I shrugged lazily. “We’re still working out the fine details and such, but we’ve slowly but surely been working so everything comes together accordingly.”
It was true. Kira, his assistants, and the PR team were ensuring the logistics were flawless.
But me?
I was more focused on understandingher.
Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.
The way her body responded to my touch, the way her lips parted just before she denied me, the way her walls were crumbling more with each passing moment.
“Well, that sounds magnificent.”
I had to keep from rolling my eyes. My father knew everything would work out, especially when he was three steps ahead. He controlled everything according to his twisted agenda. The only thing he couldn’t control, the only person he analyzed like no one else, was standing in front of him.
“Question for you…” I mused, turning to face him. “What are your thoughts on Rosenna’s husband, Gavin?”
He narrowed his eyes at me slightly, something he unintentionally did when trying to understand what I was thinking.
“He seems fine. A bit narcissistic on the surface, but overall an okay sort of guy.”
I hummed. “Hypothetically speaking… do you think their marriage will last?”
Though, I wasn’t looking at him anymore.
I was looking ather, the painting of my flower, stretched across my easel. Exposed, unraveled…Mine.
He studied me for a long moment before responding.
“It has the potential. Every marriage works itself out in the end, when they each make an effort to keep it going.” I glanced over at him for a moment as he gave me a partially knowing look. “But on the other hand… marriage can be fragile. Sometimes all it takes is for the wrong person to get too close... and suddenly,there’s nothing left to salvage.”
Chapter fourteen
Rosenna
Ididn’tsayanythingas I ate the rest of my dinner. I couldn’t. Caught between wanting to smash Gavin’s head against his mother’s and sobbing in the corner by myself, I forced myself to swallow my food, my throat tight with anger.
When I was done, I stood with my plate in hand and walked straight to the kitchen sink.
It was utterly silent, and I genuinely didn’t care.
I didn’t care if I was being rude
I didn’t care that I was ignoring them.
Because I was fucking pissed.
More than I usually am with Gavin and his parents. More than I’ve probably ever been.No, I was beyond livid.
For as long as I have asked Gavin for a child, for as long as I tried to plan for one, imagined one, longed for one, he fought me, told me we weren’t ready.
And yet he’d spun the narrative, the lie so perfectly that his parents… his judgmental, condescending, self-righteous, misogynistic parents believedIwas the one depriving him.
At the sink, scrubbing plates, I held myself back from throwing it on the fucking ground in anger, wanting to shatter it to pieces.
Because I was about to shatter,to break.
As if he’s not the one who cursed me out years ago, demanding that I let go of the subject.
