He can ignore me all he wants and pretend like I don’t exist, but to do so to his own daughter, in front of me? I don’t think so.
I clear my throat with a force that echoes in the quiet dining room. “Sir, Sarina was talking to you.”
Finally, something gets his attention. “I heard her.”
Sarina’s hand still rests on my lap, and I can feel it growing colder by the second. I place mine overtop hers, underneath the table. “All right, I wasn’t sure since you didn’t respond.”
He skirts his gaze to Sarina, and the grin plastered on his face, widens, growing more sadistic in appearance. “Hello,mia figlia, what an honor it is for you tofinallygrace us all with your presence.” He peers to me once more. “Is that better?”
Nothing Sarina warned me about her dad could have prepared me for the level of dickhead this guy is.
With Sarina’s hand in mine, underneath the table for no one to see, and only us to feel, I caress it, as I try to drum up a response that won’t lead to a fist fight.
“I was just making sure is all, you seem preoccupied.”
“That’s because I am,” he spews. “Sarina, I didn’t realize your date was so inquisitive.”
Air leaks out of her mouth where words were intended to come out. I can’t tell if she’s speechless or hesitant of what to say that will appease this seemingly impossible man she has to call dad.
My phone vibrates in my pants pocket. Likely another email from Ralph, if I had to guess. I ignore it, about to say something in her defense, but Mr. Tesoro beats me to it.
“Everyone thank your mother for putting together this feast for us and lets eat.”
Obligatory thanks fill the room, from everyone but him. I watch as he swaps his phone for a piece of bread, handing it off to his wife so she can butter it for him, as if the task is beneath him.
Sarina’s mom tells everyone to help themselves, uncovering the platters in the middle of the table.
Harper and Chloe each start to fill their plates. Mr. Tesoro hands his plate to his wife and huffs a “Fill it how I like” to her, sounding as if having to instruct her to do something he clearly thinks he’s above doing is a burden. Chipper and attentive, she takes on the task, and it’s taking every fiber of my being not to tell him to make his own fucking plate.
Sarina taps my leg, “Do you want me to make a plate for you?”
Much to my surprise and none to my delight, that grants us his attention.
I pay him no mind and respond to Sarina, the same way I would whether we were here or alone. “Thank you, cariño, I appreciate it, but you don’t need to wait on me.”
“Cariño?” Sarina’s dad repeats, condescendingly, through an awkward laugh.
I faintly hear Harper say “Oh fuck” in the backdrop as he continues.
“Well, you see, I’m…” is all I can get out before I’m interrupted.
“Tomás Ramos. Yes, I’m familiar. I remember you from our meeting.”
I bite my tongue.
“That’s correct.” It takes everything in my power not to correct him by reminding him how he blew me off for said meeting, passing me off to his business partner. I know that doing so would only add fuel to the fire, and it’s not going to do me any favors if I want to get my proposal on the job site in.
He waves his finger in the air, clicking his tongue. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Sarina asks in a stronger tone, one that I’m used to hearing from her, and one that contradicts the way her lip is quivering from what I can see in my periphery.
“That he wasn’t your date, he’s your co-worker. Mr. Ramos is Junior Partner at Turner & Vize. Isn’t that the law firm you’re a secretary at now?”
“Paralegal,” Sarina corrects him.
“Same difference.”
Now it’s my turn to chime in. “Actually, the two positions are different. Both are valuable and necessary for our company to run as smoothly as possible. Your daughter’s skill set as a paralegal, however, can put my law degree to shame. She’s so knowledgeable.”
