I scowled. “Out.”
“Address.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Text me the address. My driver will pick you up.” His voice was flat, but the irritation bled through.
“Why?”
“We have Aedris business to deal with. ”
I stilled, fingers tightening around my glass. One day, I’d stop being surprised by my father. But tonight wasn’t it.
I’d spent the last five years steering clear of Aedris. I’d already served my two-and-a-half-year sentence of paddock grunt work while he held my tuition hostage, waiting for me to agree to a business bachelors.
I wanted nothing to do with my father’s team.
My instinct was to say pass. To tell him to find another prop for his show. But the phantom weight of the tuition bill in my future stopped me.
If I said no, the check would disappear. I knew it as clearly as I knew my own name.
I took a breath, tasting the lime and bitterness of my drink.
Play the game.
“I don’t have time for this. Send the address, or forget the doctorate.”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, then set it down with the kind of forced calm that usually preceded violence.
Cleo winced. “That sounded ominous.”
Imani took a sip of her drink. “What’s the verdict? Financial ruin if you don’t comply?”
“Basically.”
Cleo exhaled. “God, Ihatehim.”
“Get in line.”
I set my drink down and picked up my phone again, jaw tight.
Imani’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? Texting him the address.”
Cleo tutted. “Vi, no. Don’t give in.”
Imani shook her head. “If you keep caving every time he threatens you, he’ll just keep upping the ante.”
“What am I supposed to do? Call his bluff? We both know he doesn’t bluff.”
“Maybe he is this time,” Cleo said, her tone almost desperate. “He needs you for this Aedris thing, right? You have leverage.”
I hesitated.
It sounded nice, but leverage only worked if you were willing to burn the deal down. I wasn’t holding the matches, he was. He held the pen, the checkbook, and the future I’d spent five years clawing my way toward.
