my parents.
“I have to say, Christian, it’s never a dull moment with you.” Flynn rubs his chin in response to my resigned smile. “We only have an hour—what do you want to talk about?”
“I had a nightmare last night. About Elena.”
“I see.”
“I’ve cut ties with her, as per my parents’ requests. Gifted her the business.”
“That’s generous.”
I shrug. “It is. But I’m okay with that, I think. Of course, she’s still calling, but it was only twice today.”
“She’s been a huge influence in your life.”
“She has. But it’s time for me to move on.”
He looks thoughtful. “Which did you find more upsetting, the argument with Elena or your parents?”
“Elena’s was awkward, because Ana was in the room. We were spiteful to each other.” My regret is clear in my tone, and deep down I wish we’d parted on better terms. “And Grace was so mad at me. I’ve never heard her curse before. But the argument with my dad was the worst. He was an asshole.”
“He was angry?”
“Very.” I ignore the stab of guilt in my guts at my disloyalty to Carrick.
“I wonder if he’s projecting his anger at himself onto you. You can understand why he felt that way, can’t you?”
No. Yes. Maybe.
Flynn continues, “Whether you agree or not, your father probably thinks Elena took advantage of a vulnerable adolescent. It was his job to protect you. He failed. That’s probably how he sees it.”
“She didn’t take advantage. I was more than willing.” My frustration echoes in my words.
I am so done with that argument.
John sighs. “We’ve discussed this many, many times, and I don’t want to get into a debate with you about it again, but you might want to try and look at the situation from your father’s point of view.”
“He said I might not be husband material.”
Flynn seems taken aback. “Oh. How did you feel about that?”
“Angry. Worried that he might be right.” Ashamed.
“In what context did he say it?”
I wave my hand dismissively. “He was lecturing me about the sanctity of marriage. He said if I had no respect for that, I had no business being married.”
John’s brows draw together.
“Since Elena was married.” I clarify for him.
“I see.” Flynn purses his lips. “Christian,” he says gently. “Your father may have a point.”
What?
“Either you were a willing participant in a relationship with a married woman, a relationship that cost her her marriage—and much more, considering what happened to her—or you were a vulnerable adolescent who was taken advantage of. Which is it? You cannot have it both ways.”
I glare at him. What. The. Hell?
“Marriage is a serious business,” he says.
“Fuck it, John, I know that. You sound just like him!”
“Do I? That’s not my intention. I’m just here to give you some perspective.”
Perspective? Fuck.
I glare at him, then down at my hands, as the silence grows between us.
Perspective, my ass. “I think Carrick’s wrong,” I mumble eventually, and I realize that I sound like the surly teen my father still thinks I am.
“Of course he is. No matter what my views are on your relationship with Mrs. Lincoln, over the years you’ve demonstrated a constant commitment to her. I think it’s your regret at terminating all contact with her that is wearing on your conscience.”
“There’s no regret!” I snap. “I’ve done this willingly.”
“Guilt, then?”
I sigh. “Guilt? I don’t feel guilty.” Do I?
John remains impassive.
“Hence the nightmares?” I ask.
“Maybe.” He taps his lip with his index finger. “You’re giving up a long-standing pivotal relationship to please your parents.”
“It’s not for my parents. It’s for Ana.”
He nods. “You are rejecting everything you know for Anastasia, the woman you love. It’s a huge step.” He smiles once more. “In the right direction, if you ask me.”
I gaze at him, not knowing what to say.
“Think about all I’ve said. Time’s up,” he says. “We can continue talking about this when I see you next.”
I get up, feeling somewhat bemused. Flynn, as ever, has given me a great deal to chew on. But until we speak again, I have one outstanding question. “How’s Leila?”
“Making good progress.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“It is. I’ll see you next week.”
Taylor is waiting outside in the Q7.
“I’m going to walk home,” I inform him. I need some time to think. “I’ll see you back at Escala.”
He gives me a pained look.
“What?”
“Sir, I’d be much more comfortable if you rode in the car.”
Oh, yes. Someone’s trying to kill me.
I scowl as Taylor opens the rear door, but resigned, I climb inside.
Am I no longer master of my own universe?
My