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He pulls the phone away from his ear and clicks the big red end call button. Then every ounce of his bitter attention is focusing on me. Everything in me says not to look him in the eye. Everything screams, run while you have the chance. But I’m here for Violet. I’m here for Violet. I’m here for Violet. Here. For. Violet.
My father lets out a heavy sigh, looking back down at his shining desk. “You know you’re not allowed in here. Also, just a reminder, I’ll be out this evening.” He looks back up with a scowl. “Shut the door.”
Shut the door.
Everything’s so private. It’d be his worst nightmare to have his dirty laundry aired out for the world to see. Though my father's dirty laundry isn’t like other people’s. It’s not the dirty secret of the threesome that happened one drunken night or the fact that he sabotaged some co-worker that he hates, or that he secretly loves his best friend’s wife. Not at all. Ronan Reyes’ dirty laundry is exactly what could land him in prison for years and years to come. If and only if all his millions of dollars were drained first. Money can buy you a lot of things.
Freedom included. Freedom when you most certainly shouldn’t have it. You know what else gives you that kind of carefree life? Getting rid of your problems. All of which, my father has become so good at. Some freakish skill he honed and refined all too well.
And I know someday, I’ll be just fucking like him.
He didn’t even bat an eyelash at the threats he gave to Violet and she’s his own fucking daughter. The memory of my father telling her he would bury her six feet under just before he dropped her weak and tired body onto the concrete floor is tattooed on my brain. God, I wish that memory would go away. It’s replayed in my head a million times at this point.
My father’s command still hangs in the open air between us but I make no move to listen. A smile full of wicked delight haunts his features, all too similar to Violet’s. “Son, why do you always have to be so stubborn?” He clicks his tongue, the sound echoing around the office. “Everything I do, everything I ask of you is for your own good. Or for the betterment of our legacy. Meant to be your legacy.”
And there it is.
The small kernel of “kindness” he offers me that is supposed to make up for his lack of parenting skills. His lack of general fucking people skills.
The long steady point of his index finger leads me to believe he would have me sitting across from him in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. I’ve had enough of my father’s charm today. Distance is necessary. Distance is safe.
“Isn’t that exciting? Knox Reyes, king of an empire. One day, son, one day. Doesn’t that just send a thrill down your spine?”
No, not hardly. It makes me sick some nights.
Because that throne, it comes with a price. A bloody, bloody price. My father may be talking to me kindly now but those tables could turn easily enough.
If I fuck up, it could be my blood he builds his legacy from.
It could be Violet’s.
So instead I’ll change the subject. Direct him back to the real reason I’m here. Away from the spotlight of my unapproved behavior.
“Do you think with the trial tomorrow we could perhaps go just the two of us? I’m getting bored dragging around the lifeless body of your real daughter,” I drawl.
Life’s a game. Learn to play. Learn to win.
Or Ronan will show you how to fucking lose.
In the worst way possible.
“That lifeless body is proof that you can overcome any fear. Conquer it. Fear is mental. The mind is a dangerous thing.” He types against his phone, likely emailing someone or sending cash electronically. “Plus, I want her to see things. Know what’s at stake. I went easy on her and she knows that.”
Anger shakes through my chest with the hard pounding of my heart but I shove it down.
Play. The. Game.
I say my words carefully. Show too much attention for Violet and he will continue to use her just to punish me. Care too little for her and he’ll know I’m up to something. Everything you say and do with Mr. Ronan Reyes is a boxing match.
Good thing I have some experience with dodging his punches.
“Then we can record it for her and show her the tape.” To play into my annoyance, I roll my eyes.
The comment earns me one of his famous easy going chuckles. The rolling sound is something I hear often when he is charming someone into exactly what he wants.
It’s light and airy.
And it grates on my nerves.
