Bythishe means the Imani Davies situation.
I open my mouth to respond but he starts pacing the room and muttering furiously like he didn’t just ask me a question.
‘Do you understand how hard I’ve had to work to get Davies to come around to this idea? Months, Asher. I’ve spentmonthsworking him. This merger could changeeverythingfor the business – for the family…’
I manage to swallow down a snort. Since when have I been part of any of his considerations when it comes to the family?
‘And yet you insist on making things difficult.’ He pauses in his ranting momentarily and narrows his eyes. ‘As usual.’
I could point out that the reason he’s having to go to these lengths to get over the line with Peregrine Airways is because ofhisown less than savoury behaviour over the years, and has nothing to do with me, but he’s inching closer to a paperweight on his desk and I don’t fancy my chances if he reaches for it and sends it flying.
‘If we don’t get the Peregrine shareholders and investors on board—’ He cuts himself off abruptly and gruffly clears his throat. ‘Well, the specifics of the situation don’t concern you. Just know that it needs to be done and you need to do your part in ensuring success and securing our family’s legacy. Is that understood?’
I run my tongue over the back of my teeth in an attempt to tamp down the maelstrom of resentment and rage I can feel building inside me. All this talk about family and legacy coming from him of all people leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I’m nothing more than an inconvenient obligation to him; he’s made that perfectly clear over the years. There’s no love or even a hint of fatherly affection driving him here.
‘Isaid,’ he grits out, leaning against his desk until he’s only mere inches away from my face. ‘Do. You. Understand?’
I’m not entirely sure why this, of all my father’s schemes over the years, has rubbed me the wrong way like this. He’s always treated me as nothing more than a transaction; just a pawn in some game where the prize is always more money and power, so it shouldn’t be that difficult to agree to this ridiculous demand. But when I open my mouth to utter out the expected ‘Understood’, nothing comes out.
Maybe it’s because he’s involved someone else this time. Someone entirely undeserving of his anger. As much as I’m willing to be his punching bag, I can’t do that to someone else.
To her.
I guess he hasn’t ground down my backbone as much as I thought he had.
He’s still waiting for me to respond, staring at me with cold eyes and a tight jaw. The silence that stretches between us is thick and suffocating. His nostrils flare suddenly, and for a moment, I think he’s going to explode again. I eye the paperweight nervously.
He opens his mouth and I flinch, ready for the explosion. But it’s not more vitriol that comes out of his mouth. Instead, he sighs and I do a double take, sure I’m seeing things. Because it looks like the fire behind my father’s eyes dampens slightly. He looks almost concerned. For me? Surely not.
‘This is Grenada all over again, isn’t it?’ he asks, voice softer than I’ve ever heard it before. It’s not exactly a kindtone of voice by any definition, but there’s none of the bite there was just seconds ago.
I frown. It feels like we’re in uncharted territory here. My father ranting, raving and throwing things I can handle. I know how to navigate and dodge that. But this? This is new. I don’t like it.
‘Perhaps I’ve been too hard on you,’ he says softly. He settles into his seat, leans forward and steeples his fingers together. The shock I’m feeling must be painted clear as day across my face because he chuckles knowingly. ‘All I’ve wanted to do is shape you into something – or should I say, intosomeoneworth carrying the Vouvalis name. Have I been hard on you over the years?’
Yes, I think bitterly, but I stay silent, knowing he’s not looking for a response from me.
‘Perhaps,’ he says, cocking his head to the side. ‘But I considered it a necessary evil. I’d hoped that under my tutelage, you’d eventually grow into a man – into ason– I could be proud of. I had thought, naïvely perhaps, that we’d reached a turning point when I gave you the Grenada resort. You’d begun to show promise after all. But we both know how that turned out.’
The soft, fatherly façade slips for a moment, and I get a glimpse of the anger I’ve become so accustomed to. It’s almost a relief to see it.
‘I did what I felt was best,’ I force out, not that it does any good. In the two years since the Grenada debacle, I’ve tried and failed to defend myself and my choices there more timesthan I can count. It never ends up going my way. He doesn’t care that the resort location he wanted to open up in Grenada would have displaced hundreds of locals and reduced their access to the beach and the sea. He only care abouts profit and the bottom line, no matter how many people he hurts.
‘Yes, yes,’ he says dismissively. ‘And therein lies the problem, doesn’t it? Whatyoufeel is best is never quite right. But never mind that. Never mind Grenada or all your other missteps over the years. This is your chance to redeem yourself.Sheis your chance.’
My father smiles then and the expression on his face is so foreign, it startles me. ‘If you do this for me, I can make sure you’re finally seen for what you are, Asher. You’ll be more than just the boy who’s squandered every chance I’ve given him. You’ll be my son.’
For a moment, I can’t breathe. There it is. The hook. The same one he’s been dangling in front of me since I was eight years old and desperate for any scrap of affection he might one day decide to toss my way.
I like to tell myself that his approval means nothing to me, and that I’d stopped chasing it years ago, but the lie doesn’t hold much weight even in my own head. I was, after all, perfectly ready to sayyesto marrying Imani just to keep him happy, and even now, I’m not laughing in his face and storming out of his office like I know I should.
Deep down, beneath all the anger and resentment I’ve built up over the years, there’s still a pathetic, broken part of me that’s desperate for his approval. The kid who used tohide at the top of the stairs just to hear if my father might say something kind about me to someone else when he thought I wasn’t listening. The same kid who’d spend day after day trying to earn a smile, and when it didn’t come, decided it was because I hadn’t worked hard enough to deserve one yet.
That kid still lives inside me, and as much as I hate to admit it, he wants what my father is offering.
My voice sounds hollow when I speak again. ‘If I do this…’ I start. ‘If I do what you’re asking, will that finally be enough for you?’
The silence that follows stretches for too long. He leans back in his chair, regarding me with a look that might be pity or maybe disgust. I can never tell the difference with him.
