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But then, I have never seen my father date as well. He leads a private life, but even when I had to see him at social events, he never had anybody on his arm.
For a time period, I assumed he was just a sexless droid.
But now, I recall small things between them, exchanges, eyes lingering too long, soft brushes of the hand.
I close my eyes, forcing those thoughts a
way.
One of the maids sees me roaming around the halls aimlessly, and she offers to bring me a snack. That’s how, an hour later, I find myself halfway deep into a fresh casserole, when Henrietta descends the stairs, my father following her.
His suit looked mussed up.
It hadn’t been mussed up when I saw him.
I groan inwardly.
He catches the motion and gives me a displeased look, his eyes telling me to mind my own business.
“You and him, huh?” I ask Henrietta, who leans down to kiss my cheek.
“Sorry for yelling at you,” she whispers in apology.
I grasp her hands. “You can always yell at me. I don’t mind. So, is it true?”
She nods, and when I wince, she narrows her eyes at me. “Your father and I are adults, Zayn. Behave yourself.”
Feeling chastised, I still persist, “You can do so much better than him.”
“I can always kick you out of my house, as well,” my father reminds me pleasantly, and I scowl at him.
Henrietta just pats my cheek. “I’ll bring you and your darling girl souvenirs from my trip.”
As she walks away, I glance at my impassive-faced father. “So, she’s going, huh?”
Elijah’s jaw tightens. “Henrietta always seems to get her way.” He fixes his hair, adding absentmindedly, “Stop eating out of the dish. Get a plate.”
I don’t stop, and he doesn’t repeat himself.
Seating himself in the chair opposite me at the dining room table, he watches me. “It’s rare for you to come all the way out here. Is something wrong?”
A bitter taste is in my mouth.
I push away the casserole.
Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I say, “Thomas Richards.”
When Elijah’s eyes darken, I see a deep rage in them that he hides very well. “What has he done?”
I pause before saying, “So, you’re aware of the history between him and Eve.”
My father’s upper lip curls. “Intimately.” Then his expression clears and he raises a brow. “If you’re here to question me—”
“I’m not,” I say, hastily. “I don’t—when Eve wants to tell me, she can. I just want to know whether he could have something to do with this. With all of this shit.”
Elijah purses his lips, deep in thought.
“No.”
