I can feel the weight of her gaze on me as she speaks. I want to tell her that I’m more eager to get out of here than she can imagine. There’s something about her vulnerability that I recognize in my own and the reflection makes me intensely uncomfortable.
Without waiting for him to respond, I stand and head toward the door. “Do you work for her? Or you work for me? You don’t move unless I tell you.” His voice, that grating growly disdainful voice, snaps at my retreating back.
I halt in mid-stride. Even though every single inch of my being flexes against the way he’s speaking to me, I nod without any emotion and sit down in my seat.
This is for the greater good and it’s temporary. I’m still a step ahead of him. And as long as that’s true, I’ll be fine.
Fiona starts to sit in the chair next to mine
He groans. “I hope you’re not sitting down because you’ve got a lot to say. I’m busy.”
She pauses half way through sitting and looks at him like a deer in the headlights.
“You look like you’re about to take a shit, Fiona. Say whatever you’ve come to say and let me get back to my day.”
Her swallow is audible.
“I’ll talk to you at home. It’s not important.” She says, finally and then without waiting for him to respond, she hurries out.
My father stares at her, his eyes full of disdain. When the door closes behind her, his eyes return to me.
“I have the worst luck with my wives. First your mother turns out to be a she-devil with no loyalty. And then Fiona turns out to be as barren as a desert. That girl she pushed into the world better not turn out like her mother. I’ve got plans for her.” His smile is dark.
I bristle in anger. But not at him, at the powers of fate, or God, or whoever decided that this man would be my father. I think about every hope I’ve ever had - painting in paradise, falling in love – and how I handed them all over to him in exchange for Cameron’s freedom. How wrong I was to do that. I’ve only given his brand of love more fuel.
Dina’s right, I’ll do more for her by letting him go.
I bite the tip of my tongue hard and give him one of my practiced smiles.
“You wanted to see me?”
His expression clears and he nods.
“Yes, I want to make sure that you’re over whatever problems you had with Duke.” He says, evenly. His eyebrow raised in expectation. I may have to pretend, but I won’t lie to him anymore. He doesn’t deserve the comfort of thinking he’s won. I want him to know that I’m here because I made the choice to be.
“I don’t see how I can get over it. Everyone has heard. Everyone knows that he’s been unfaithful. I’m not sure we can—" I look away from his now steely gaze. I stare down at my hands, I have them linked to hide their shaking.
“You’re not sure you can what?” He asks, his fingers drum his desk as he waits for me to respond.
I look at his bodyguards, their faces are impassive and I decide that even though I know they’ll go home and tell their wives, who will tell everyone they know, that maybe it’s for the best.
So I just say it.
“I don’t love Duke. I only agreed to marry him so I could come home.”
He cocks his head at me, his eyes narrow but he doesn’t say anything.
“And now that I’m here, I want to show you that I can contribute to this family. I can be more than a secretary. I’m an artist. I could create new branding for you. I could help you with the decor for model homes. I have—”
“Get out.” He says, standing suddenly and startling me into silence.
“What?” I ask.
He doesn’t repeat himself, but he walks over and grabs my arm and hauls me up.
“Go on,” he says, and with a slight shove he pushes me toward the door. I look over my shoulder at him, but move my feet in the direction he commanded.
His bodyguards start to follow us out.
He stops them.
“No. We need privacy.”
Dread spreads from my gut and by the time we reach the hallway that leads to my office, it’s permeated me to the marrow. Apprehension is making me dizzy and I stop, pressing my hand to the wall for purchase.
“Walk. Last