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And in those six years since, Dad has clearly blamed Della. Time only made the wound fester.
“I’m going to be taking on a protégé,” Dad says, smirking. “Apparently, according to my CFO, it’s long overdue.”
The news is surprising to me. My father doesn’t usually make time for such things. He’s a shrewd businessman who threw his entire self into the company after Mom died. It’s always about making the next dollar—hence his Tokyo endeavor—but never about teaching others.
“That’s not the only thing Gareth had to say.” Dad pauses as Noel bustles into the dining room with a tray filled with plates. “Thank you, Noel.”
Noel’s cheeks burn crimson and she nods. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Croft.”
He flashes her a wolfish smile that turns my stomach. It’s as if everyone around us is blind to his monstrous behavior. I hate that no one else sees him the way his children do. While he blatantly flirts with Noel, I glance over at Della. Her tears have been swiped away and she’s scowling. If it were just us, I would tickle her until she smiled. Since I can’t exactly do that, I make a silly face at her before quickly schooling my features. The corner of her lips twitch. An almost smile. Better than nothing.
After Noel deposits each plate in front of us and pours our wine, she slips away quietly. As soon as she’s gone, the heaviness of Dad’s anger clouds the room. Della is not-so-quietly clanging her fork against the china as she shovels green beans into her mouth.
“What else did Gareth say?” I urge, drawing his attention to me once more. “You’ve piqued my curiosity.”
He relaxes, offering me a teasing grin. “He had much to say. Actually, some of it involved you.”
My brows pinch in confusion. Me? I’ve only met Gareth a few times, all of which he was preoccupied talking business with Dad. None of those times did he ever even take the time to notice me, much less speak to me.
“He wants me to intern for you?” I ask, guessing the only plausible thing I can think of.
Dad barks out a laugh. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. You’re a Croft, not some unpaid college intern brat.”
“Then what could he possibly have to say about me?”
“There are…influential people in this city. People he thinks you should meet.”
I study Dad, frowning. Since when? He rarely lets me out of the building. Now he thinks I should meet influential people. A sick, uneasy feeling turns my stomach.
“It’s time,” Dad says, darting a glance over at Della, “that you leave the nest. Get out there and meet new people. Schmooze and represent the Croft family as the goddess they no doubt will see you as.” He beams at me. “Gareth says one of the Constantine cousins is single and recently moved back to the city. A young fellow, fresh out of college and looking to make something of himself, which is admirable. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting.”
I blink at him in shock.
“Don’t look so surprised.” He cuts into his filet, his lips still curled into a smile. “I can’t keep you as my little girl forever, though I know we both would love that.”
Panic shoots through me and the room spins. I should eat to chase away the dizziness, but I can’t move or breathe or think.
“But who will watch Della?” I whisper before swallowing hard. “She needs me.”
It’s not that she needs me to care for her, because technically that’s what Sandra is for, but Della needs me emotionally. I’m the only person who truly gets her. The only person she trusts and loves. I know that she sometimes acts out when she’s tired or overstimulated and just needs a second to herself. I know how she likes her snacks arranged on her plate or which bows are her favorites. It’s all those little things she needs me for.
Of course, I can’t say that to him. He already thinks I baby her too much.
Dad takes a bite of his steak and chews, his features darkening. I want to reel the words back in, but I’ve already cast them into the depths of his resentment toward her.
“This little attachment she has to you is unhealthy,” he says after he chases down his meat with a healthy swig of wine. “You’re not her mother, Landry.”
His words strike like the belt he’s used on me and Della both in the past. I visibly flinch, and then hate that he saw my reaction.
“Besides,” Dad continues, “Della has Sandra.”
Sandra is an uncaring robot. She flits about, doing Dad’s bidding, and adds no extra emotion or care. I might not be Della’s mother, but I am her family. I can give her what no one else can. Love.
Della only has me.
“But, Dad—”
“I know this is hard for you,” he barks, slicing my words off the end of my tongue like a sharp blade, “but you’ll get over it. Della will be starting school soon. I have tutors lined up for her beginning next week.”
