“I’ll tell him,” I respond before we end the call. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed the town car wasn’t here so that means Zachary isn’t home yet. We’ve hardly crossed paths. Since our last conversation, he’s avoided me even more.
I go straight to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Oddly, Anthony isn’t around, but the housekeeper is. She gives me a warm smile before continuing on with her task.
As soon as I head up the staircase, I hear my dad. “Ivy Bear, I didn’t know you were home already.” There’s a cheeriness to his voice, but it’s forced. My guess is it’s due to the man standing beside him who looks polished and regal. Everything my dad isn’t.
Dad motions to the man as I walk back down the few steps.
“Come meet our neighbor. Mr. Montclair stopped by to welcome us to the neighborhood.”
Luca’s father?
His hand is outstretched for a few seconds before I take it. The little I know about the man, I don’t like. And he doesn’t appear to be the bring-the-new-neighbor-a-pie kind of guy. So, why is he here?
“Please, call me Donald.”
There are a few other names I’d prefer to call him.
“Donald has graciously invited us to join him for dinner tonight.” Dad is way too giddy at the suggestion.
“I’m busy.” I’m not. I just don’t have any desire to sit across from Donald or eat a meal at the Montclair lair.
“Ivy,” Dad scolds. “Don’t be disrespectful to our guest. He has generously extended us an invitation, and it’d be rude not to accept.”
The dude is accustomed to rudeness. I’ve met his son. “It’s also rude to change plans at the last minute without any regard for another’s schedule. Right, Ronald?”
Dad looks like he’s about to lose his shit as he says, “It’s Donald.”
However, Donald just lets out a little chuckle. “Touché. How about we plan for another night. What works with your schedule?”
Never.
Before I answer, Dad does, “We’ll be there tonight. Really, it’s not a problem. It’s a kind offer and we’d love to accept. Right, Ivy?”
Dad shuffles him away, showing him out before I can reply. As soon as he walks back in, he shouts, “What the fuck were you thinking being so disrespectful? I didn’t raise you to be a goddamn brat.”
My father cares more about the opinion of a man he’s known for mere minutes. He never cared what my mother thought or felt. “You’ll have to find some other way to impress your idol.”
Before I get the words out, I’m slapped across my face. The sting spreads over my cheek as tears well, and I snap my eyes shut. He won’t make me cry. My mom wasted enough tears on him.
When I don’t react and just watch him, his anger surges. Swiftly, his hand moves to my throat, backing me up against the wall. “You will be there tonight. You will be respectful. And you will put a fucking smile on your face.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Test me and find out. It’s amazing what money can buy.”
I cringe inwardly, hoping I was able to hide the response from him. “Not class apparently.”
His hand tightens on my throat, his reddened face in mine as he squeezes harder, and I struggle to take in a breath. He wantsme to cry. He wants me to beg him for forgiveness. He wants to show me how threatening and powerful he is. Because he’s truly a weak, inadequate man.
I squeak out, “Do it.”
For a few seconds, I think he will. He’ll strangle me until I pass out and not wake up. Yet I still don’t feel scared.
Disappointment washes over me when he releases me and I’m able to wheeze in air to fill my lungs.
“If you don’t get in line and cooperate tonight, I will make the only person you care about pay the price. I know how much you value your precious brother’s happiness. All this can go away as quick as it appeared. And I’ll make sure you’re just as miserable as your mother was. So, put on a pretty dress and shake your ass for the Montclair boys, Ivy. It’s the only thing you’re good for.” He stomps off as I slide down the wall until I hit the floor. I don’t think I’ve ever loathed a human being as much as I hate my father. How can the man who is a part of me hate me so much?
39
