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Jaden nodded but kept her distance. Things had been this way for many, many years now . . . hard, unyielding, and complicated.
“You seem on edge, my pet,” he murmured silkily as he stopped a few inches from her. He knew she hated the endearment, so he made a point of using it every chance he got.
Alarm bells sounded but on the outside she remained calm.
“What can I do for you, Jakobi?” The slight tremor in her voice couldn’t be hidden, and she watched a slow smile spread across his face.
He loved it. The power he had over his children. The fear that he inspired.
He pursed his lips. “Can a father not visit his offspring without having a reason?”
Jaden exhaled softly. What game is he playing now?
“Would you like a drink?” she asked politely, changing the subject.
His nostrils flared once more, his eyes narrowed. “You’ve already indulged, whiskey from the smell of it.” His voice held a hint of distaste. In his mind, a lady should never develop a taste for hard liquor. Wine was a much more refined spirit.
But, of course, she was no lady.
Jaden turned from him, filled with the need to do something, and grabbed her glass, hoping he couldn’t see how her fingers shook as she reached for the crystal decanter.
“Have you spoken to your brothers lately?” His voice was flat, cold, and, just like that, any shred of civility vanished. The pretending was over.
She paused, took a few moments to carefully pour herself a drink, then turned back to him.
His eyes were dead. There was nothing there, at least nothing that was good anyway.
“I talked to Degas several days ago, why?” Degas was the eldest DaCosta sibling, and the most like her father. He was a man filled with darkness, who lived on the edge of sanity, always striving for their father’s approval. He’d just never clued in to the fact it was never going to happen.
Their father cared about no one but himself and the image he wanted them all to project.
“He feels you’ve been distracted of late.” A slight hint of pissed off was present in her father’s voice.
Her vision blurred, and her belly rolled, but Jaden smiled tightly. She’d been playing a double role for so long that her reactions were always spot on.
“Distracted?” She laughed softly. “He’s full of crap. Degas is always looking for a way to push me out of the picture.”
Her father remained silent, and she didn’t like the way he was staring at her, like he knew something. Inside, her heart fluttered, and though she tried to keep the blush of heat from her skin, she felt her cheeks redden as he continued to stare at her.
The tattoos on the side of her neck began to burn, and it took everything inside her to keep from glancing back at the balcony. If Julian was there, all would be lost.
“You’re so like your mother,” Jakobi whispered as he walked toward her. She cringed, an automatic reaction to his proximity, and hated the way his mouth lifted into the merest whisper of a smile.
It wasn’t real, of course, and only amplified his distaste for her.
She recovered quickly. Fear fed the sadistic soul that lived inside him, and she’d rather he starve tonight.
He stood not more than two inches from her and she held on to the glass in her hand so tightly that her fingers ached. She heard the air wheezing inside her lungs as her heart rate continued to accelerate.
Damn his sarcastic, arrogant ass. Jakobi knew what he did to her. Why the fuck did she even try?
“Your mother was a whore, too.” His hands reached for the clan tattoos along the side of her neck, and she sensed his anger now. It was in the thin bent to his lips, the eerie glow that lit his eyes from behind.
“You are the shame I cannot hide.”
Jaden swallowed thickly but couldn’t move away. Though his words should have bounced off her like rubber, they didn’t. Even after all this time, they still hurt.
The ache inside her chest tightened as she gazed into his face, fighting the need for him to understand. She was pathetic.
