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“So, Kara, I meant to tell you that you looked absolutely gorgeous the other night at Whitney’s gala. Did you have a good time?” My mother’s southern accent was out in full force as she cut her salmon into small pieces, the salmon she wouldn’t actually eat.
“It was such a darling event, and for such a good cause. But Lincoln, I didn’t see you there. You usually never miss it,” Kara cooed, literally dragging a finger across her cleavage while she talked to try and catch my eye.
Sorry, sweetheart. Monroe’s tits were a trillion times better. I tried not to envision sucking on Monroe’s rosy nipples, biting down gently and getting that soft moan from her lips—Fuck. Down boy.
I didnotwant to give Kara the wrong impression.
“Lincoln was at one of his little games,” my father snidely responded on my behalf.
“Dad, I’m surprised you would even know that. I didn’t think you followed my schedule,” I mocked, causing a red flush of anger to creep up his neck at my disrespectful tone.
“Of course we do, Son,” my mother chortled, taking a big swig of her wine.
That’s it, go comatose for me, Mother.
The three of them chatted back and forth, occasionally dragging me into the conversation to get my opinion on some inane social event, or the new sports car their neighbor had just bought—the only part of the conversation that was actually interesting.
My father didn’t bring up anything business related, even though Kara’s presence here was solely related to the deal he was trying to work out with her dad—he thought all women were fools, so he wouldn’t bother bringing up anything of substance in front of them.
Dinner dragged on, because five courses were necessary for the average family dinner.
Kara’s hand went to my arm, massaging it while I tried to eat my cheesecake. She leaned towards me, her breasts pushing against my skin.
I froze, feeling my father’s approving gaze crawling across us.
I turned and leaned in so that my lips were brushing her ear. Her chest was already heaving, like I was touching her clit instead of talking.
“If you touch me again, I will stab you with this fork,” I murmured. She froze, shock and confusion in her eyes as she stared at me fearfully. It was clear she hadn’t been expecting that.
"Excuse me?" she whispered, her voice wavering slightly.
"You heard me," I replied with a cold smile, and then I brought a bite of cheesecake up to my mouth—just for kicks and giggles.
Kara's mouth hung open, and for a moment, she could only stare at me, as if trying to comprehend what had happened. Then she stood up abruptly and grabbed her purse.
"I...I'm sorry," she stammered, backing away from the table. "I have to go."
With that, she turned and practically ran out of the room, leaving me alone with my seething parents, in a room that seemed to have dropped twenty degrees.
“What the fuck did you do!” my father roared, leaping up and slamming his hands on the table so the glass plates and cups all rattled.
My mother grabbed her wine glass and stalked out of the room without a word, as the staff scattered into the kitchen.
I took another bite of my cheesecake as if I was completely unbothered by the whole thing.
“Come with me, Lincoln,” my father growled in a voice that brokered no argument.
I found myself standing and following him to his office, a spacious room located on the second floor of the estate. It was elegantly decorated, with dark wood paneling lining the walls and plush carpeting covering the floor. A large oak desk, an ornate leather chair, and a set of matching bookcases that were stuffed with leather-bound books and family heirlooms filled the space.
A large crystal chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, casting a warm glow over everything in the room. My father's desk was cluttered with papers, files, and various office supplies, and there was a computer monitor on the desk with several screens open, displaying stock charts and financial data.
I stared out the large window behind the desk, studying the view of the expansive grounds. From there, I could see the lush gardens and sparkling pool below. Memories of swimming with Tyler dashed before my eyes…I had to look away.
The walls were adorned with several paintings and photographs, including a portrait of my father shaking hands with the current president, and a framed copy of the cover of Forbes magazine featuring him as the most successful businessman of the year.
Taking his time, Anstad poured himself a drink, not bothering to offer me one. When he felt the tension was sufficiently built, he placed his empty glass on the desk and turned his attention back to me. "Let’s talk about Kara," he said, his voice once again taking on a menacing tone.
“It’s not happening," I said with a yawn, knowing full well it would fall on deaf ears.
