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My father tipped his cheek, and I placed a dutiful peck on it. The scent of his aftershave sent a jolt of panic through my veins. I had never realized my physical aversion to my father, but it was clear to me now I was once again in his presence. My pits were damp, and there was a tremble in my legs. Had it always been this way? Or was I so used to my life before I married Drakos that I’d physically steeled myself against my father’s presence?
“I’m so glad you called, it’s been lonely around the house without you, and I’ve missed you, daughter.” The comments rolled off his tongue. It was exactly what a fond parent would say to their married child.
“I’ve been very busy, but I thought it would be nice to snatch a moment with you.” I folded into the seat opposite. Philip took up a position against the wall, and I didn’t dare look him directly in the face. We were safe here from bloodshed, so he didn’t need to worry.
“How is married life treating you?” My father peered down his nose at me, fingers stroking his mug.
“Fair. My husband is a busy man, always working.” I smiled.
“Indeed.”
“But I’ve spoken to him about his ships. He’s open, père. If we disclose the contents of the containers, he will consider allowing us carriage on good terms.” I tensed as my father frowned heavily at me.
“Of course, I will disclose the goods to be shipped.”
“He’s worried about...legalities.” I folded my hands to hide their shaking.
“Talia,” my father warned. “The shipping rights were a distraction. He would expect you to plead on my behalf. That’s why I had you bring it up, but it’s not actually what’s important. Mon Dieu, you’d think you’d know that!”
“He is accusing you of smuggling live goods,” I said, stressing the words. “It’s just one of their lies, isn’t it, père?”
There was a beat where my father gave me a long look. “That’s right,” he said in French. “Always remember whose mouth the shit is flying from, mon petit.”
“So, the claims that you smuggle sex workers into the country, that you run a few brothels on the side—those are lies?” I demanded, and even though it wasn’t said in English, I kept my voice low. I hoped Phillip didn’t understand the foreign language.
“The fact that you have to ask wounds me, Talia.”
“Sandy is just a dancer, then? One who runs her own side hustle?” I pressed. “I need to know that the victory I’m bringing home isn’t for a family that is undeserving.”
“How dare you!” My father’s explosion was tempered as he shot a look around the café. Although it was doubtful anyone here spoke French, the tone was clear enough.
“I dare, père, because this is my empire.” I dug my fingers into the table, leaning forward. Desperately, I pleaded, “I want a stake in your empire. I always have—and you damn well know it. So, when I bring you Drakos’s head on a platter, you had better offer me something worth having.”
“Just as Herod offered Salome, you shall have up to half my kingdom to rule beside Claude. But Talia,” my father gripped my wrist, pinching hard, “you’d best fucking earn it.”
An actual answer—a first. My father actually promised what’d I’d hoped for all along.Empty words, a voice taunted in my mind. I squashed it for later contemplation.
“I will, père.”
The vise on my wrist tightened in emphasis. I swallowed the whimper. My father’s grip was strong enough to break my bones. There would be a bruise, no doubt. But I hid the discomfort, knowing that Philip was watching the exchange with hawk-like precision. I couldn’t have the chauffeur jumping in to attempt a rescue.
“Drakos comes home from LA in a matter of days. He’ll not be in his house twenty-four hours before I end him,” I promised. But the words were stale in my mouth. It wasn’t the whole truth.
However, my father was convinced. A lazy, false look slid over his face. He leaned back in his seat, releasing me. “It was good to see you, Talia.”
“You as well, père.” I rose, and, without betraying the gnawing horror in my chest, left the café.
