Chapter Nine
Valentina
“You can’t just tell him you’re taking him to Europe and not talk to me first,” I lower my voice. The last thing I need is for someone to take our damn picture again and splash it on a magazine so I can read about how Max Sommerland and his ex-wife were fighting in a restaurant. Then again, maybe that’s better than when we actually got along for a brief moment and they said we were getting back together and poor eleven-year-old Ryder thought his wish had come true.
“He’s my son. I pay support. I hold his insurance. He’s turning sixteen and I want to experience a trip to Europe with him.” He cuts up his steak with a smile. This is the fake Max Sommerland who, even when he’s seething, can plaster on a brilliant white smile.
“All court-ordered. As is the fact that I
