Page 117 of Ruthless Knight

I smile back at him. “I actually want to do it, and I really like your mom. She's cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” It's been a while since I got on so well with someone so soon after meeting them.

I thought Knight's grandmother was amazing, but I haven’t spent the same amount of time with her as I have with Knight’s mother.

“My mom is very cool. She taught me how to paint and sculpt. I don’t do many paintings. I never took to it the way I do with sculpting.”

He’s actually talking to me and telling me about himself, but not just that—his art.

“Why didn’t you go to art school? I’ve never seen anything like your sculptures.”

“Thank you, but you might change your mind when you see my mother’s work.” He presses his lips together and pauses for a beat. “I wanted to go to art school, but my duty as a Grayson was to work in the family business.”

“Couldn’t you have done both?” I can’t imagine why not with all the family’s wealth.

He shakes his head. “No, that wasn’t for me.”

“Why?”

“I had to prove a point that I could be the best in our business and the best anyone had ever seen.”

I have a feeling this has to do with his father and the other side of the family.

I've thought about the situation several times. Every time I want to ask about it, it feels like bad timing or just plain inappropriate. It feels like that now, but it also feels like the perfect opening.

“Is that because of your dad?”

When Knight glances at me again, there's an unreadable expression on his face, but it soon softens, and I feel less guilty for prying.

“I suppose it was only a matter of time before you asked me about him and that side of my family. I'm sure you can tell things are tense between us, to say the least.”

“It was obvious. And they weren't at the wedding?”

“No, they wouldn't have been.”

“But it was our wedding. Why wouldn’t they be there? Why wouldn’t your father be there?”

“My father is not like yours, Aurora.”

“Given the fact that you and my father didn’t start off on the best foot, I’m not sure if you’re insulting him.” I felt it was best to check, although his comment doesn’t feel like an insult.

He gives me a slight chuckle before the seriousness returns to his face. “It’s not an insult. Your father is a real father. Mine isn’t.”

That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him sound so distant.

“Did you two have a falling out?”

“No, it wasn't anything like that. I’m sure you've noticed he treats Jericho the same way too, and neither he nor his family speak to us.”

“I have noticed.” And I’m still waiting to be introduced to him.

“My father doesn't acknowledge us as his kids.”

I hear him, but I can't comprehend what he’s saying. “What do you mean he doesn't acknowledge you? You're his kids.”

“Not to him.”