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Needless to say, there’s no love lost between me and that family.
“That’s cold. Did that family of yours teach you to be like that?”
“Strike one, you’ve shown up to my family’s business out of the blue. Strike two, you just insulted them. One more strike, and I will break your fucking jaw in this middle of my office.”
His gaze lowers to the tightened fists at my sides. I dare this motherfucker to give me another reason to lay him on his ass.
“Hey.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I thought maybe we could talk. Seeing as how our father recently passed away.”
“Your father,” I correct.
His lips tighten. “He didn’t see it that way.”
“He should’ve. He was never a father to me.”
“Then why did he leave something for you in his will?”
My head juts back because I wasn’t expecting that question. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s why I came to see you. We’re having the reading of his will soon, but it requires all of us to be there.”
“Who the fuck isus?” I’m damn sure not a part of that family.
“Like it or not, Gabriel Garcia is your father. Yourrealfather.”
I take a threatening step in his direction.
He steps back for the first time, fear invading his eyes.
“I just mean, you share his blood. And he took that seriously.”
I scoff. “Seriously enough to lord it over my mother’s head for years.” I know all about the way my father manipulated my mother. He used his money and influence to put me in school and used that as a way to keep her from dating anyone else.
That is until she met Carter Townsend.
The man who adopted me and raised me as his own.
His nostrils flare, and his eyebrows dip to a V. The angered expression passes quickly, though.
“He wanted you to have something of his to remember him by, I guess.”
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t know. We’ll find out at the reading of the will, but you have to me there.”
“Do it without me. Now get the hell out, and don’t show your fucking face around here again.”
I yank my door open, gripping the handle so tight that my knuckles turn red.
“We need you there. The attorney said—”
“Figure something else out because I want nothing from him, you, or anyone else in your goddamn family. And if you show your face around here again, I’ll break it.”
The unmistakable urge to follow through on that threat rushes through me. My sight begins to cloud, and the back of my neck starts to heat up.
I run my hand across my neck, but the move is useless.
Seeing the face of Gabriel Garcia Jr. is like looking into his father's face. I despite them both.
