Drake nodded. He didn't seem perturbed that James didn't ask how he was again, instead taking another sip from his wine glass before setting it down with a definitive clink. "I've made a decision."
James pressed his lips together at the retort that immediately bubbled up, one of his hands curling into a fist. Nothing good came when his father made decisions.
Drake mirrored his position, leaning back in his chair and scanning his nails as he continued, "I've decided that you don't need to complete your senior year of college. Your qualifications are more than enough for you to start work right away, and I've already spoken to my supervisor about adding you to the team. You'll mentor under me, of course, until you have enough experience to run your own team."
He said the words with such finality, as if there were no room for argument, that for a moment, James was stunned. "That wasn't what we agreed to," he said flatly.
He forced the tide of anxiety down in his stomach as he glared at his father, who quirked an eyebrow at him. "Remind me what it is that we agreed to, son."
"We agreed that you would allow me to complete my bachelor's degree before you expected any sort of solidemployment from me," James said, his voice firm. It wanted to waver, tight with anxiety, but he didn't let the fear that he was feeling show.
His father nodded, his expression hardening a little. "Under the condition that you finished your degree in four years, just like every other student. You're going on year five now. That wasn't what we agreed. And I feel fully justified in recinding my financial support of your bachelor's, given that it's not necessary for your chosen career path."
James couldn't help the growl of frustration that is escaped his chest, running a hand through his hair before he bit out, "It isn'tmychosen career path, Dad."
It was an outburst that James didn't intend, and it got an eye roll from his father. "This again?" He leaned forward a little, a flash of anger passing through his gray eyes. The same gray eyes that looked out of James' own face. "This has been the plan for you since you were a child. You've known this for years, don't pretend like this is a surprise. You know better than that."
James swallowed hard, the threat more than clear. Fear swelled in his chest at the idea of being pulled from school, of being taken away from Evan and his other friends, and he swallowed again as he thought frantically.
Time to play dirty.
Heaving out a breath, James forced his shoulders to relax, and he sat back in his chair again. He reached out and picked up his glass for a sip of wine, forcing himself not to grimace at the dry taste before putting the glass down again. "I'm sure that Harper will be well pleased to have an employee there against his will, rather than one fully committed to the job." James shrugged, glancing around the room again as if he were bored. "Last I checked, spies who weren't fully committed ended up dead. But I guess if you want the shame of your son not living up to expectations on your shoulders..."
It was a risky move, threatening his father's livelihood. Jack Harper, Drake's boss, was a ruthless son of a bitch, and James had heard more than one story hissed over the phone of the man ordering mercs in his employ killed because they were no longer performing up to standard. Drake performed his job impeccably – whatever his real job actually was, James had never gotten a straight answer out of him, no matter how many times over the years he had asked what he would be expected to do in this position one day – and James knew that the idea of his ownsonbeing the one to bring fire down on his head would be simplyunacceptable.
As predicted, Drake’s eyes narrowed, and fury lit in their gray depths at the subtle threat. For a moment, he didn't say anything, his cheek twitching as thoughts whirred behind his eyes. James met his gaze calmly despite his heart pounding in his chest. This was his only trump card, the only thing with a remote chance of getting his father to see things his way.
The only other threat he had in his arsenal was suicide, and James wasn't quite desperate to call that particular wolf yet.
Drake took another sip from his glass of wine, his knuckles white as he clutched the glass so tightly that James surprised that it didn't shatter under his grip.
Finally, though, he set the glass down and breathed out a slow, measured breath. "How many more credits do you have to complete your degree?" he asked, his voice smooth and calm again. Only the spark of anger in his eyes told James how deeply he had gotten under his father's skin, but he didn't allow anxiety at the sight to stall him.
"Seventeen." A slight exaggeration – James only had twelve credits left to finish his degree and half of them were experience-based courses. But it was a number he could reasonably split over two semesters, if he played his cards right.
"And how many are you taking this semester?" Drake asked the question as if he didn't already know the answer, and James allowed a small smirk to tug at the corners of his lips.
"Twelve. Last two courses aren't offered in the fall."
“And you’re still living with Evan?”
James' heart kicked at the mention of his friend, but he didn’t let it read on his face. “Of course. I don’t like anyone else enough to live with them.” He flashed his father a smug grin, knowing that his relationship with Evan was one of the things that bothered his father the most, and the thing he had the least control over.
You couldn’t control someone completely if they had other people to rely on.
Drake's jaw flexed again with irritation, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by their waiter reappearing with their food. He set the steaming plates in front of James and his father with a cheery, "Enjoy!" before he walked away, and James immediately picked up his fork and started stabbing at his potato, the distraction life-saving.
"You're on thin ice, James," Drake finally said, his voice low and dangerous. When James looked up, his father was glaring at him with the unadulterated disgust and disappointment that he had gotten used to seeing in his eyes after his mother's death. "If I get so much as one message from the school..."
James interrupted, unable to stop the bitterness from coloring his voice as he stabbed at his potato more viciously. "You don't have to keep threatening me, Dad. I know the drill. I step one toe out of line, I'm done."
Drake pressed his lips tightly together, then nodded once, sharply. "Fine."
James' shoulders sagged a little at the single word, but he didn't let his relief show on his face.
He had bought himself time to figure something else out, but not enough.
Chapter three
