“Your father wishes to see you in his office.” Her voice is tight, and it sounds almost scared.
I look down and see that her fingers twist the fabric. Yep. She’s terrified of my dad.
You and me both.
It would be great if we could both feign ignorance, and I can go about my day, like she didn’t just drop an explosive device on my lap. And by explosive device, I mean some annoying lecture by my father that I’m sure is about to come.
My mouth goes dry thinking about what he wants to talk to me about.
It’s not like his lecturing me isn’t a regular occurrence, but after last night, I’m worried.
The hidden room. The dancing. Falling asleep wrapped in Lorenzo.
He must know.
He has to know.
“Thank you.” I manage a nod.
Helen doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead, she turns and hurries back the way she came.
The hallway shifts as I walk, my balance off because I’m so nervous.
Up ahead, I see the closed door. I don’t want to go in, but I have no choice.
Taking a breath, I then knock.
“Come in,” he calls, his voice as sharp as a blade.
I step inside. It feels like I’ve just entered the gates of hell. Dark wood. Heavy doors. The scent of scotch clings to everything.
He’s seated behind the enormous mahogany desk.
I hate it in here. It’s always cold and dark. And honestly scary.
A chill runs down my spine.
He doesn’t need to gesture, because I know the drill.
Not my first rodeo…
Like the obedient daughter I am, I sit.
Back straight. Hands folded.
The perfect daughter. Or whatever version of that he’s rewritten in his head.
He eyes me for a long moment, sipping from his glass, gaze moving over me.
“There’s an important dinner tonight,” he says.
My spine tightens. “Yes, sir.”
He nods once. Slowly. Too slow for my liking.
“Not just important. Pivotal.”
I stay quiet. My pulse doesn’t.
