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Taking one last breath, I enter his office. I do my best not to appear nervous. He’s like a second father after all. I’ve known him for forever. Casually, with as much indifference as I can muster, I slide my hands into my pockets and waltz in.
Mr. Reyes glances up from his paperwork giving me a brief smile before looking back down. The small brown framed glasses perching on his nose slide down with the movement. “Mr. Carington, to what do I owe the pleasure?” The words are spoken without feeling. Dull and lifeless.
“It’s just uh–” I fumble for the words.
“Spit it out.”
“Did Dee do something wrong?”
I swear the air turns frigid. Slowly he looks back up at me again, this time setting down the pen and paper in his hand. Mr. Reyes doesn’t bother to adjust the low sitting reading glasses on his nose. Instead he peers over them at me with a lethal stare, one that feels as if it bores into my skin.
I shift on my feet under his unyielding attention.
He sighs as if he’s already completely exasperated by the situation. Pushing the papers to the side he stands up, walking around his large desk. The familiar green of his eyes sends the fleeting image of Dee’s pleading look to the forefront of my mind.
And I didn’t think I would feel any shame in front of her father. Heat rises to my cheeks.
Growing up, my father adored Mr. Reyes. Though, my father adores anyone who remotely appears to be profitable or more fortunate.
Thus in turn, I grew up wanting to be just like Mr. Reyes. Successful. Powerful. Fearless.
The man I’m looking at now isn’t someone I want to be at all. His success is from blood money built up by thieves, murderers, and liars. His power comes from striking terror into the hearts of everyone who seems immune to his charm. And of course you can be fearless when everyone else is afraid of you.
The man before me now makes me sick.
Carefully, he folds his hands in front of him, still looking down his nose at me. “Violet’s mother is a problematic person. I helped that woman time and time again.” He shrugs. “But women cannot always be helped. They will always return to destructive addictions, time and time again.”
Mr. Reyes pulls his glasses from his face, running a hand over his tired eyes. “Violet, unfortunately, is just like her mother.”
Violet, unfortunately, is just like her mother.
She’s not. She’s nothing, not anything, like her mother.
Hate burns through my veins. It leaves my cheeks red for another reason.
What I told her today. The small confession, in the most vulnerable of moments, is true. And Violet Demure is good. Her mother, the sniveling piece of shit she is, is not good.
Good tells you that you aren’t bound by the expectations of your life, not calling you names and degrading you. Good nurses your wounds when you’ve been stung by what feels like ten thousand bees, not letting good for nothing boyfriends slap the shit out of your daughter. Good rallies against the evil, it does not wallow in it and drag everyone else down because of it.
Dee is strong and kind and authentic.
I bite my tongue in Mr. Reyes’ presence. I understand why Dee wants to know what she wants to know. I’d want to know how to prepare myself for the battle against the devil himself, too.
Mr. Reyes turns back around, tossing the words over his shoulder in a careless command. “She’s a pretty girl. I understand. Take it from me, a pretty girl only gives you a problematic future. But it’s best if you just keep a distance, son. ”
It’s best if he keeps his distance. He’s hurting her. I know he is.
And if he hurts her, I’ll fucking kill him.
Thirty-Two
Landon
“A pawn,” Reed says bitterly with a shake of his head. “He just wants to use her as a pawn in his game. What else could it be?”
Dee sucks in her bottom lip, looking away from us. Her feet swing back and forth, her legs dangling from her perch on top of my long dresser. She examines the room. I realize this is the first time she has actually come in here.
My cheeks flush in a nervous way. What is she thinking?
