McNeil took Gwyneth by the hand and led her to the door.
Victoria knew full well he was up to something, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Especially when McNeil had the nerve to look at her with that gentle, caring expression.
“Sorry to interrupt your dinner. If it’s not convenient, I can go to the Turners’ and pick up the kids myself.”
There he was, speaking as if it were nothing, tossing out an excuse no one in their right mind would believe, let alone apologize for.
Victoria was momentarily speechless.
He’d sabotaged her evening and still had the audacity to act innocent. Honestly, only someone like McNeil could pull a stunt like this without batting an eye.
“No need. Take Gwyneth with you. I’ll go pick up Chris and Celia.”
“Alright. By the way, Grandpa’s been missing you. You might want to stop by and see him—he’s not getting any younger, and you never know how many more visits there’ll be.”
The words landed heavily, as if he wasn’t forcing her, yet making it almost impossible for her to refuse going back to the family home.
Appealing to her emotions, guilt-tripping her with logic—no wonder the old man favored this grandson.
Truly, McNeil’s shamelessness and cunning knew no bounds.
Victoria walked to her car and reached for the door. McNeil politely gestured for her to go ahead, then followed behind in his own car.
She doubted McNeil was being chivalrous out of concern. More likely, he just wanted to keep an eye on her, probably worried she’d sneak off to see someone else along the way.
Typical.
God, he was so calculating. She’d never noticed before that he could take all those underhanded business tactics and turn them against her now.
Did he really think she was worth all this trouble?
Victoria ignored his motives and drove straight to the Turners’.
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