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With that, I hang up, the ground beneath my feet fucking lurching.
FOURTEEN
LIA
“So you must be Lia?” a suave, silver-haired man with piercing blue eyes asks me, his tailored suit and polished appearance exuding sophistication.
“I am, and this is my son, Toby,” I reply as Toby hides behind me, his arm wrapped tightly around my thigh.
“Carl,” Drix acknowledges, his hand resting gently on the small of my back as I take Toby’s hand and he guides me into the opulent lounge where Dalton’s father sits on a plush plum couch, a glistening chandelier hanging overhead.
The grandeur of Carl's mansion is as unsettling as the man who owns it. He reeks of money and entitlement, right down to his handmade leather loafers and arrogant disposition, solidifying his image as a man who has everything he desires at his fingertips.
“Take a seat, I’ll have Tessa bring some refreshments,” he replies, waving a hand as a woman, not much older than me, enters the room as if by magic. “Some tea, Tessa, and a…” His voice trails off as Toby settles beside me on the pristine white couch. Carl’s gaze rises up from Toby’s scuffed and dirty trainers. “What would you like to drink?”
“A glass of whatever juice you have will be fine,” I reply for Toby, who for the first time in his life is lost for words.
Toby is usually so chatty, so the sheer fact he’s not around this man is a warning in and of itself. Kids are incredibly instinctual when it comes to understanding whether someone is a good person or not, and going by his reactions, Toby is just as keen on this man as I am. Which is not at all.
“Fine,” Carl says with a dismissive shake of his hand towards the poor woman.
“Thank you,” I add, shooting her a smile, making sure she knows I appreciate her given this man clearly doesn’t. She dips her head, leaving the room as quietly as she entered it.
“I understand that you’re both staying with Drix,” Carl says, taking me off guard with his abruptness and steely tone of voice.
Dislike crawls up my spine like an unfriendly spider, and I suddenly feel some empathy towards Dalton. No wonder he seeks comfort in the arms of women because I’ve no doubt he got very little from a man like this. Carl’s cold, matter of fact, and entirely too much like Martin than I’d care to admit. My hackles rise.
“They’re my guests,” Drix adds tightly, a warning tone to his voice as he takes a seat beside me.
“I see. And how did you meet exactly?” Carl asks, flicking his gaze from Drix to me. When neither of us answer immediately, because what business is it of his anyway, Carl plasters a smile on his face that reminds me more of a snake about to strike. “Drix is the son of my very good friend, so you see I have a vested interest in knowing who he chooses to bring into his home.”
“And Drix is a grown man who doesn’t need to explain himself to you,” I bite out, anger rising in my chest at his words.
Carl smiles, leaning back in his chair as he regards me. “You’ll have to excuse me for sounding so…”
“Rude?” I suggest, and Drix stiffens beside me.
“Interested,” he corrects. “Drix is like family to me. Hubert was my best friend and I need to ensure that his son and heir is protecting himself. You understand?”
“Carl, you’re out of line,” Drix growls, his body stiff with tension.
I bristle. “I can assure you that I’m not interested in Drix’s money, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“That would seem to add up given you’re working at my hotel. Pastry chef, no?”
“If you’re unhappy with my work, then you can ask Dalton to fire me,” I snap back, refusing to let the tears stinging my eyes fall. In all of two minutes this man has made me feel worthless.
“That is not the issue here,” he says curtly.
“Then what is?” Drix asks tightly.
“No need to be so defensive, this is just a friendly chat,” Carl replies, crossing his leg as he gives us all an empty smile.
Friendly? This is about as friendly as Martin used to be before he flew into one of his rages.
“Like I said,” he continues, “I have a vested interest in who Drix chooses to invite into his home,” Carl says, cutting his gaze to Drix who flinches.
“What do you want to know?” I ask just as coldly.
