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“How did that meeting go?” I asked.
“What meeting?”
“You had someone at the house when I stopped by.”
“Oh, that’s right.” He watched the waiter fill his glass before he took a drink. “Yes, it was an old friend. Just catching up.”
“If he’s an old friend, wouldn’t he have understood that your daughter needed you?” I was supposed to be calm. I wassupposed to be sly. But shit was about to hit the fan because I’d inherited his temper.
His eyes narrowed on my face. “So you are angry with me…”
I’d just stepped into the snake pit without gloves or boots.
“Considering everything worked out between you two, I assumed you wouldn’t be upset?—”
“I forgot my purse.” The moment of truth had arrived—and we hadn’t even ordered dinner. “I sat in the car for a while fighting back tears, but when I tried to drive away, I realized I had no keys. So I came back in to grab it.”
My father was still and composed, but his eyes darted back and forth between mine.
“You asked thisold friendto kill my husband.” I wanted it to be a misunderstanding, but what possible misunderstanding could there be? I’d heard him, like a boom box in a silent room, and there was no mistaking the threat.
He gave no reaction to this. None whatsoever. He just continued his stare. He didn’t feign surprise or look appalled by the accusation. But he didn’t admit to it either, plotting his next move behind the rough exterior. “You were eavesdropping?—”
“I forgot my purse. And even if I were maliciously and intentionally eavesdropping, it doesn’t change what you said. You said you would kill both Axel and Theo. Axel, my husband, and Theo, my brother-in-law. You said those words.”
He inhaled a slow breath, not blinking once since the accusation had been put on the table.
The waiter approached. “What will we be ordering?—”
“Leave us, and don’t come back.” My father didn’t raise his voice or drop it, but there was a distinct threat to his tone.
The waiter remained for a moment, taking a second to wonder if he had heard my father correctly, but whether he did hear correctly or not, the tension between us was unmistakable, so he fled.
My father continued his ruthless stare, all the fatherly affection he’d previously held gone. “Scarlett, you had just told me he served you divorce papers?—”
“And five minutes later, you decided to kill him?” I couldn’t believe he tried to justify it, let alone admit it. “Those plans must have already been planted in your head and grown to a full tree for you to act on it so suddenly.”
He stared, his features those of my father, but his spirit belonging to someone I didn’t recognize. “You aren’t even denying it.”
“Because I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“Really?” I snapped. “So, once he was dead, how would you explain it?”
“Nothing happened, so we don’t need to discuss this further?—”
“I told you he was the love of my life—and you plotted to kill him. So yes, somethingdidhappen.”
“I told you I’ve never liked him?—”
“It doesn’t matter what you think. I love him. I’m in love with this man.”
He didn’t look guilty or apologetic. He was a man without a conscience. “He went to prison?—”
“He’s innocent.”
“He cheated on you.”
I sucked in a hard breath and swallowed, using my full restraint to keep my mouth shut. My eyes burned as my eyelids were stretched open, and my rage was restrained in a delicate glass bottle that was about to shatter.
