Page 278 of Power Play

Charm’s fingers tightened around mine under the table before she let go.

I hated that she let go. I hated more that she looked sorry when she did.

She followed her mother because this house had trained her feet to move before her mouth could argue, and I watched her walk away with her spine straight and her hands folded in front of her like good daughters didn’t bleed where anyone could see.

Lance waited until she disappeared through the doorway before he looked at me.

“Ryan, would you join me in my study for a moment?”

I pushed my chair back and stood. No hesitation. No glance around for permission. No little-boy nerves for him to feed on.

Charm turned from the kitchen doorway, and our eyes caught across the room. Her face had gone pale again, but I mouthed to her, I’m good, mi hada.

Her mouth parted like she wanted to say something.

She didn’t, and her silence followed me down the hall.

Lance’s study was exactly what I expected from a man who wanted every room in his house to remind people he mattered. Dark wood. Leather chairs. Framed degrees. Books that looked untouched but expensive. A bar cart near the window with crystal decanters and amber liquor glowing beneath a brass lamp.

He closed the door behind us.

I didn’t sit and was happy he noticed that.

“Drink?” he asked, already moving toward the bar cart.

“No.”

He poured one for himself anyway, slow and deliberate, giving the moment room to become his.

I let him have the room because I had the power.

He turned with the glass in his hand. “You’re not what I expected.”

“I’m sure I’m exactly what you expected. I’m just less obedient than you hoped.”

The corner of his mouth moved. “Charm has always had a weakness for wounded things.”

My jaw tightened, but my smile came easier this time because he’d finally stopped pretending and that meant I could too.

“Call me wounded again,” I said, my voice low, “and this conversation gets less polite.”

His eyes narrowed, but I stood my ground.

The space between us changed. It had been a study a second ago. Leather and money and fatherly concern. Now it felt like what it was—two men standing across from each other with one woman between them and neither one willing to step back first.

Lance took a sip of whiskey. “You think aggression helps your case?”

“I think men like you call it aggression when a man like me doesn’t lower his eyes.”

He set the glass down. “A man like you?”

“You’ve been saying it all night without using the words.”

His expression stayed controlled, but something meaner settled behind his eyes. “Then allow me to be clearer. My daughter has a future that doesn’t need to be complicated by a man still trying to prove he can outrun his past.”

I laughed once, quiet and sharp. “You really practice this shit, don’t you?”

His face hardened.