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“Thank you, sir.”
My father gave us a final look before he walked off. When he returned to a group of people, his arm moved around the waist of a woman younger than I was. My disgust for him grew.
“I think he’s buying it,” I said.
“I do too.” He drank from his flute. “Your coldness has made it seem genuine.”
It was nice not to be completely fake.
“I have an idea,” he volunteered.
“Yeah?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Then why even suggest it?”
“Because it’ll work.”
“Alright, I’m all ears.” I faced Victor and prepared to hear a complex plan.
He held my gaze. “We get engaged.”
My heart did a flop.
“It’s exactly what he would want. You would get closer to the family, and you would become loyal to me—and, therefore, him. He’d drop his guard even more, and then you could sink your teeth into him. Make him think he has his daughter back for good.”
“I think it would be obvious if we got engaged so soon.”
“We would wait a couple weeks. Let them see me sleep overnight at your apartment.”
“If we do that, you’re sleeping on the couch.”
I caught a glance of disappointment he couldn’t cover. “That’s fine.”
It was a good idea, even if I personally didn’t like it. “Alright.”
A couple nights later, we went out to dinner—then back to my place.
When my father watched me, he thought he saw the beginning of a rekindled relationship, but what he actually saw was two people planning to shoot him to death. It was nice to have the upper hand—even if he didn’t know it.
I’d rented a small apartment that I’d found online. The owner was on vacation for the summer, so he rented out the place to someone for extra cash. That someone was me. It had one bedroom, a sitting room with a dining table, and a little kitchen. It was bigger than my apartment in Paris, so it was an upgrade, and it was a fraction of the price of my Parisian place.
Victor entered, took a quick look around, and gave a nod. “Nice place.”
We used to live in a beautiful apartment, two entire floors, a formal dining room for entertaining. It was nothing compared to my father’s estate, but it was still a dream home for most people. We’d sold the place and split the equity, and I bet Victor had moved in to another place even better than the last.
We both sat on the couch.
I wasn’t sure how to entertain him now that dinner was over. It felt strange to be alone with him in the privacy of my home. If he were Bartholomew, we would already be naked and in bed, my face in the pillow and my ass proudly in the air.
I really needed to stop thinking about him.
I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. “You want some wine?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
I opened a bottle, and we drank as we watched TV, neither one of us talking. We did that for a couple hours before it was time for bed. I found an extra blanket and pillow in the closet and tossed it on the couch. “Good night.”
