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“Thomas! Master Carmelo, please!”
“You’re wasting your time.” Chains sounded, but I ignored Aimon as he continued. “I know you’re upset but try to relax. If my grandfather put you here, he’s not going to let you out. Not until he has his way. No amount of screams or banging will change that. The good things is, when he sees you won’t budge on his stupid scheme, he’ll let us go. You can stop freaking out. No one is coming for you. Accept it and sit.”
“No.” Again, I pounded into the door, yelling out.
“Will you please stop screaming?”
I spun on Aimon, not able to resist the hopelessness that was causing me to lash out. “This is your fault. My mother is on life support and could die at any moment. I just lost my father a few days ago and where am I?” My hands shot up, only to slap down against my thighs. “I’m here! I’m here because of you! You could have lied. You could have told him anything but no. You didn’t. You fought with him intentionally, just to piss him off. You asshole. You….dick!”
Amusement flashed over his face, erasing the irritation he’d held not moments before. “I believe that’s what you want from me. Not really who I am.”
“I hate you. I don’t even know you, but I hate your guts.”
“Hate away. Most people do. Do you want to know why they do, Mistress Fayette?”
“Don’t call me that. That’s not even funny.” I pounded the door one last time and headed for the small sofa that rested in front of the fireplace. The moment I collapsed; I was sure I was going to pass out again. Sweat coated my skin, and I took a deep breath as my limbs grew weak. When was the last time I’d eaten anything? Drank anything? I couldn’t even remember. I didn’t feel good.
“Actually, I like it. It’ll never be, but it has quite the ring to it. Mistress Fayette. Well, my love, the mother of my non-existent-never-will-be-bastard, it seems the real reason you’re here is no one’s fault but your father’s. He sold you out. He threw you under the bus like you were a piece of trash. Like you meant nothing. Some dad you had. Father of year if I do say so myself.”
Tears spilled over as I lifted to sit. I didn’t ever remember coming to my feet. I swayed, managing to make it to the head of his bed without falling.
“You’re really pale.” The smirk was gone as concern drew in his face. “I’m sorry, it has to be the drugs. I should have never of said—”
Crack!
The slap had Aimon’s eyes widening in surprise.
“How dare you. You didn’t know him. You have no idea what happened between my father and your grandfather. Neither do I. You’re vile, arrogant, and cruel. I’d never say those words to my worst enemy, yet they so easily come from you.
“Fay—”
“I can’t stand that I have to stay another minute in this room with such a callous person. I despise, even more, that I may have to…” A cry forced its way out as I tried to straighten my shoulders. Shark. Yes, they all were. But I could be too. “If we weren’t in this situation, I’d never let you touch me. I sure as hell wouldn’t touch you. My father was a good man. The best. He loved me. I was in trouble, and he was trying to help. I told him no... I…”
I stepped back, nearly losing my footing. Multiple expressions crossed Aimon’s face as he took in mine.
“I’m sorry. Your father, whatever his name is—”
“George. George Brexton. And don’t you ever speak of him to me. Not of him, and not his name. It’s too good to come out of your ugly mouth.”
“What?” Aimon’s lips parted as he thrashed to sit higher. “George is dead? George is your father?” His head gave a jerk. “You’re lying.”
“Don’t say his name.”
“Fay.”
“Don’t.”
“God.” Aimon’s brows drew together through something between a wince and a cringe. “I think I’m going to be sick. It’s the eyes. Fuck, it’s the eyes. Different color, same shape. That’s why I felt I knew you. Son of a bitch. Fay—”
My palm pushed towards the air in front of him. “Stop.”
“I had no idea. He’s really dead? He’s not dead. Fay?”
At the tears racing down my face, he tried to hold in his own.
“I’m sorry. So sorry. I’m really, really—I loved—”
“I said don’t!” Harder I sobbed, not able to stop the river of emotions that damn near killed me. How did he know my dad? Why didn’t my father ever tell me about any of them? “I’m done with you. I’m done with all of you! I want my mom. I want. I w-want—”
