“No offense, Father, but I’m not really a fan of fucking in front of an audience.”
His eyes turn to steel. “Don’t lie to me, boy. That girl has three other boys at her beck and call. Like you haven’t fucked in front of her little harem.”
I hold my tongue. He won’t believe that we hadn’t had sex. He’s decided it’s the truth, and that’s that.
With a sigh, he turns away from me and stomps across his office. “How about we make another deal?”
Fuck. “What kind of deal?”
He pauses, staring at the decanter of scotch. “Privacy in exchange for proof.”
“What kind of proof?”
“Visuals after the fact.”
I can’t help the disgusted groan that escapes me. “That’s fucked-up.”
He turns, dragging his gaze from the liquor. “You’re lucky I’m even offering another deal.”
“Why would you?”
He takes his time to settle behind his desk, the motions so familiar that a few of my long-healed bones ache in anticipated agony. “Because as much as you hate it, you’re my son, Archie. More than Trevor will ever be. Some part of me must have recognized that from the beginning, giving you my name instead of him. You and I, we fight against being forced into something. And my actions have only provoked that tendency. So, instead, I’ll offer you one last compromise. I get my grandson, and you get to fuck your girl in private.”
“And if I don’t take this deal?”
“Then you get the supervision you obviously don’t want.”
“You trust me that much?”
“No. Not at all, more’s the pity. But if I want you to play, I must give you a turn as well.” He looks up from his papers. “You know there are worse things I can do than I have already done. Much worse.”
That doesn’t require a response.
“You and your girl do as you’re required, and I may even give you more freedom in the house. Your guards have told me neither of you show signs of running, nor have those other boys made an appearance. You’re being good enough on that front. Do this one thing, and you might even get a bed more than occasionally.”
If he expects me to thank him, he’s delusional. I refrain from glancing at Falk.
RJ might have been disguised, but I know the man behind me is smart enough to have clocked him giving me the bag with the birth control. Which might explain why he left us together that morning—to pass off the mystery bag. If that was his plan, well, the result must have been a surprise to him.
But he’s been watching us together, and it’s clear he knows we’re up to something. He knows she’s more than what she shows to Father. And he knows I defer to her.
This is her plan.
And it’s my job to mitigate the risks in it as much as possible.
“Tomorrow night, we’re going to the orchestra. No visible marks on the girl, please, son. That bruise on her neck makes her look like a whore.”
Rage bubbles up, but I swallow it down, letting Falk usher me out before he cuts me free of the zip-ties around my wrists. Because my father’s fear of me has this physical manifestation. I’ll be proud that my father is this scared of me when I’m not in the middle of this mess.
Falk glances at his phone. “You’re okayed to use the gym four days a week.”
I scoff, and he looks at me, something in his eyes that I can’t read. “Let’s get you changed.”
When we make it down to the gym, he leans next to the door. “Warm up,” he instructs.
Curious, I let him boss me around. He’s working up to something.
It’s been long enough since I last exercised that my heart-rate spikes after an easy start, sweat dripping down me like I’m doing something twice as difficult as a slow jog and some calisthenics. “Fuck. I’m out of shape.”
