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“You need to learn—”
She snaps then, turning on me and cutting off my words. “I know fucking respect, Nico! And I also know who deserves it. I have yet to meet a man in this world who has earned it. You are all the same. You take, take, take. You blister over with lack of control, and then when you snap, you do it. Youtake. Take freedom, control, self-respect, and any dignity.”
I open my mouth, but she keeps going.“I’ve lived my whole life under the thumb of a man like you. I didn’t ask to marry you. I begged to not be sold off to you like a fucking animal. I am a woman. A person. AndIdeserve respect. You claim that the world we are in owes me and must respect me because of my position. But you? You’re exempt, right? You can mock me, ridicule me, push my buttons, and lock me in a fucking room like a caged animal. Andyoucan just… exist.” Her last word is spoken softly, a stark difference from every other word in that rant.
I stay put, letting her have the floor. No one is around. And if she needs to get it off her chest, then she can. Part of me feels a dash of guilt, but I brush that away, because I don’t feel bad for people. That’s the furthest thing from my damn DNA.
“So no, Nico, I don’t need to learn respect. But I’ve now been taught how much I despise the man you are. I would ask if your father would be proud, but he’s the coward who raised you, so I’m assuming he’s just as pathetic.”
That’s the last tick of the time bomb, and I explode.
“Enough! You—” I gain on her, moving until I have her backed into a wall. “—are never to speak about my parents again. You can call me whatever, Emelia, tell me what a prick I am, but if you say any ill words like that about my father again, I will lock you in the penthouse, and you will never see freedom again!” I yell and punch the wall next to her head.
Emelia jumps, her shoulders lifting and her head burrowing between them, scared that it’s her who will catch my fist. I breathe in and out deeply, my chest rising and falling harshly, and I give her one final look of disgust before I hastily pull back and leave the room, slamming the door behind me.
How dare she? My father was many things, but he was not pathetic nor a coward. My parents are the one subject I take zero shit about. You disrespect them, then you might as well be spitting in my fucking face. And if that were anyone other than her, I would have put a bullet between their eyes.
I get to the top deck, and I take my whiskey off the table and down the glass before I refill it. I sit down at the table, and I stare out at the blackness of the night sky. The lights from the yacht make it hard to see the stars. I’m trying to calm down, trying to let what she said go, but I can’t. I want to hurt something, break someone’s face, and make them pay for what she said.
And then I let out an incredulous laugh.
Of course I’m in the middle of the fucking ocean with no one around to do just that.
“Nico?” Emelia’s soft voice comes from behind me.
Closing my eyes, I grit my teeth.“What, Emelia?”
I listen to her move, her bare feet making nearly no sound. Rounding the table, she stands over me. I don’t look up. If I look at her, I may flip the goddamn table.
“I'm sorry. Parents are off limits. I crossed a line. It’s you I'm mad at, and it's below me to attack others like that. Especially those who have passed.”
My fist tightens, the reminder that they are gone, hitting me. Still, I stay silent.
“I would like to have dinner and not argue.”
Is she asking me for permission?
I look up at her finally and see that’s exactly what she's doing.
“Sit,” I order. Taking her seat, she waits. “Eat, it's getting cold.”
Picking up my knife, I cut into the steak and take a bite. I’m starving and ready to enjoy a hot fucking shower and a long night of sleep. Might as well take advantage of being too far away to handle business myself. I can't remember the last time I got decent sleep.
She picks at her food, pushing it around and taking occasional bites.
“What's wrong with the food?”
“Nothing. It's great, thank you.”
“What is it, Emelia?” I can tell she wants to ask me something. She's practically falling out of her seat from her leg rapidly bouncing up and down.
“Nothing.”
“Emelia,” I warn, my voice sharpening.
“Okay, I just thought maybe you could tell me a little bit about your parents.”
This is a joke. It must be. She calls my dad a pathetic coward and then wants to ask me about them after I put my fucking fist through the wall. Does she like living on the edge? Does she not feel fear?
