The man stands from his chair and clears his throat. “Laikyn, Tyson.” He nods to us, but I see the sharpness in his tight jaw. He doesn’t want to be here, but he also couldn’t turn down my request to meet us for dinner. I’m pretty sure he just agreed to have proof she isn’t dead yet.
“Dad,” she whispers. “Mom.”
Her mother rolls her eyes and then throws back most of the wine in her glass. She also didn’t have a choice to be here. Like her daughter, her husband informed her she’ll attend. My father-in-law refusing my request to dine at his hotel would make him look foolish. And Mr. Minson is anything but a fool.
“I’ll let your server know you’ve arrived,” the hostess states, exiting the private room. She closes the tinted black glass double doors at her departure, silencing the chatter in the main part of the restaurant.
I help my wife over to the table and pull out a chair for her to sit in. I take the one next to her while we both face her parents. A silence lingers over the room, and I feel for the object in the pocket of my dress slacks. It’s the icing on the cake for tonight.
The double doors open, and our server arrives, approaching the table. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Minson. Mr. and Mrs. Crawford. What can I get you all to drink tonight?”
“Scotch.” Her father answers first.
“Bring me a bottle.” Her mother speaks, lifting her now empty wine glass. She’s obviously had a head start.
“Of course. For you, Mrs. Crawford?” He looks at Laikyn.
She swallows nervously. “I’ll take a glass of what she’s having.” She nods to her mom.
The server looks at me. “She’ll have a water, and I’ll take a whiskey—neat,” I inform him.
“Perfect. I’ll get those right out to you.” He turns and takes off.
Lake’s mother snorts at the fact I won’t allow their daughter to drink. Her husband prefers her drunk all the time, but I’m nothing like him.
Reaching under the table. I rub my hand up and down Lake’s thigh, making her jump. Her knees hit the table, causing it to rattle, and she clears her throat as if that’s going to distract them from what really just happened.
“So Lake,” her mother starts, “are you ready for your initiation?”
Her body tenses under my hand. “I, uh—”
“Lake won’t be doing initiation.” I interrupt my wife’s rambling and calm her unease. There’s no reason for her to be worried about that.
“All Ladies must participate in initiation.” Mr. Minson looks over at his daughter. “Don’t worry. I highly doubt that it’ll be anything too drastic. It goes by level of power.”
I refuse to acknowledge that he just tried to make a dig at the fact that I no longer hold the powerful title I was supposed to have before and gave it up for the opportunity to be sitting here with his daughter as my wife.
The server reappears and passes out our drinks. I pick up my whiskey. “Rules have changed for some,” I decide to say, not wanting to give too much away but also making sure he understands he’s not right.
He looks at me and then at his daughter. His jaw sharpens and he slams down the drink he was just given. Is he mad that she’s not going to be initiated? If so, I don’t know why he’d care.
“You’re not a Lady unless you pay your dues,” her mother adds, throwing back her now full glass of wine.
I look at Lake, and she drops her eyes to stare at her glass of water. It’s like they want her to fail, which would make sense. They don’t want her with me, and if she were to fail initiation to become a Lady, then she’d no longer be my wife. Would they rather her be shunned by the Lords? Killed? Than be with me? Abso-fucking-lutely.
To them, a dead daughter is better than one serving me. I know. History proves that.
“Are you ready to order?” the server asks.
We each take our turn ordering, and then he’s gone. We sit in silence once again and I feel it’s time to prove the point that I came here to prove.
I reach into the pocket of my slacks and push the button.
“FUCK!” Lake slams her hands down on the table, her body jerking in surprise.
“Laikyn,” her mother scolds her. “Language.”
She starts to stand, but my hand on her thigh tightens to prevent it. She stays here, where I want her. When she realizes that, she reaches out, grabs her mother’s glass of wine, and takes a big gulp, coughing through a gasp when she pulls it away. I know she’s never been a drinker before.
