That pacing has sparked anxiety in my chest since childhood. I imagine him shapeshifting into some hairy, fangy, terrifying beast, towering over me as he seizes me by the neck. Claws piercing the skin as he dangles me off the ground before ending me for good.
No daddy issues here. Nope. None.
I join him on the balcony. Maybe he wants some privacy for our conversation?
The view of the Pacific might even calm his nerves.
I don’t know about him, but the fresh, salty air does instant wonders for me.
Of course, anything’s better than the stench in my beautiful penthouse.
Once the French doors close behind us, my father addresses me.
“You notice any unusual happenings in or around the hotel over the past day or so?”
My eyes flick down to the Arden, where I’m reminded of that kiss I shared with Kellin under the twinkling lights.
I refocus. “Other than your men, who seem to be populating like clownfish?”
He cocks his head.
“Clownfish reproduce like you can’t imagine. They’re horny little bastards. Disney left that part out.”
Dad doesn’t laugh at that amusing nugget of aquatic trivia.
Tough crowd.
I don’t know why I can’t just keep my mouth shut around this man. “Should I be concerned about the guy in the recliner watchingLaw & Orderreruns?” I point through the window.
His lips twist into a sneer. “I’m asking the questions.”
“No, I haven’t noticed anything.” I might have my Kellin blinders on, but I’m pretty sensitive to mafia goings-on. “How much longer do you plan on occupying my penthouse? We have a big wedding this weekend, and the couple has reserved this space.”
“My penthouse, you mean. My suite. How much longer will I be here, in the room I own?” He straightens from his usual hunch, an instinctive scare tactic that no longer works on me.
I remind myself it’s just second nature for him. I shouldn’t take the gesture personally. “Your business, my business,ourbusiness. We’re still running an operation here, first and foremost. You don’t need to continually point out thatyouown it.”
He acts like he has more to say, so I give him a minute.
Nothing.
“And this is not your office. Can we at least agree on that? This,” I motion toward the stranger again, “is not good for the Cypress.” I’m whisper-yelling, though I don’t know why. We’re the only ones out here.
“You’d best watch that attitude, Maeve, or I’ll claim the penthouse permanently. Or sell this place out from under you.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. After spending the entire day in bed, dizzy, weak, and just plain out of it, I don’t have the bandwidth for this crap. Every time we disagree on anything, he threatens to sell the hotel.
And he would in a heartbeat. Because while my father has never hit me, the emotional blows always pack quite a punch. Instead of using physical violence, he’s subjected me to death by a million figurative cuts over the years. Disparaging remarks, threats, snatching away beloved things…including dropping my cat off at the animal shelter because I embarrassed him in front of his friends.
I guess I should be thankful he didn’t kill Fred. He stole him from me, though, just like he ended up robbing me of my brothers’ affection.
My father turns his back on the epic ocean view, too, and heads inside.
I trail after him, bumping into him when he suddenly pivots to face me. “Who’s the guy, by the way?”
My heart leaps into my throat. “Excuse me?”
“The one Brody saw you dining with the other night. Your brother says he’s been hanging around.”
