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“I know what it’s like to go, as they say, slumming. To see how the other side lives. After all, I did it myself. In fact, if I didn’t do it with your mother, you wouldn’t even exist.”
His words hit me like a slap in the face and I feel myself rear back.
“What did you say about my mother?” I hiss.
He completely ignores my question. Instead, his face lights up with this sick kind of glee as he goes on as if I didn’t speak. “And given that half of you is white trash like your mother… It was probably even harder for you to resist that sweaty gym rat. Like attracts like, doesn’t it?”
I shake my head in dismay. I’m so angry, so damn angry, tears sting my eyes. My father has said some pretty nasty things to me over the years, but they’re usually barbs that are cleverly disguised to hide the intent.
This… this is just outright nastiness.
“Wouldn’t that make you trash as well?” I snap, throwing his stupid, messed up logic back at him.
For a second, his eyes flash with anger, but it quickly fades away. He takes the time to drain the rest of his glass and then carefully sits it beside him. “No, because as I said, I was simply experimenting. Sowing my wild oats. I come from good stock, so it was only curiosity on my part. Once I realized my mistake, I quickly rectified it, and I’ve been happy ever since.”
As far as I’m concerned, the gloves came completely off when he insulted not only me but also my mother, and I don’t even try to stop myself now from speaking what I truly think.
“Are you?” I ask skeptically, narrowing my eyes at him. “Are you truly happy? You look like a miserable old bastard to me…”
My father flinches, actually flinches as if my words hurt him, then his jaw ticks. Reaching over, he picks up his empty glass, and without looking at it, tries to take a drink. When only ice clinks against his lips, his expression grows darker and he tosses the glass to the side.
I jump a little when the glass hits the door, making a loud noise but not shattering.
My father gives the ice rolling onto the carpet a look of disgust, as if he wasn’t the one who just threw his glass, then turns his attention back to me.
“As I said,” he says roughly then clears his throat. “I understand what it’s like, Aubrey. I do. I understand because you’re still half me. And for that reason, and that reason alone, I’m willing to forgive you.”
After all the nastiness he just spewed, I’m pretty sure his idea of forgiveness isn’t a good thing. I don’t say that out loud though. Not when he no longer has a glass to throw.
When I don’t respond in any way, he sighs heavily. “I forgive you, Aubrey, but it stops now. It all stops now. I’ve let you have your fun, I’ve let you have your little fling. Now it’s time for you to step up and fulfill your responsibilities.”
Trying not to focus on the whole let me crap he’s spewing, I have to clear my own throat, the damn thing trying to close up on me. “And what exactly are my responsibilities?”
My father’s eyes and voice sharpen as he glares at me. “Don’t play stupid, you know very well your responsibilities. You will marry Tristan Yates, play the good wife, and produce a couple of children, uniting our two families.”
God, what is this? Have I accidentally stepped into an alternate reality?
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady,” he says, his face flushing with anger. “You’re lucky to have this opportunity. There are dozens of other families that would give everything they possess for their daughters to be in your position.”
When my eyes roll again, he growls in frustration then adds as if it’s some kind of consolation that will convince me to submit, “If you do as your told, after you produce a couple of children, perhaps you’ll be permitted to do as you wish.”
“And if I don’t?” I challenge as I cross my arms over my chest.
There’s nothing, nothing in this world he could threaten me with at this point to make me agree to any of this craziness.
A slow smile starts to creep ove
r my father’s mouth as he leans back in his seat, and I realize too late that I’ve walked myself into his trap.
Shit.
“I wanted to do this the nice way, Aubrey…” he says ominously as he reaches over and grabs another folder I didn’t notice until now.
Just like the other, he tosses the folder at me. “But you give me no choice.”
Quickly uncrossing my arms, I scramble to catch the folder before its contents join what’s already scattered around me. When I do finally have it safely in my hands, I realize I had no reason to worry. The stack of papers inside have been clipped securely to the folder to keep them from spilling.
“What’s this?” I ask as my eyes scan over the top paper.
