Prologue
The longer he stares, the more I’d like to listen to my instincts, to race away and hide somewhere he won’t find me. I’m starting to realize, though, there might not be anywhere safe from Victor Hernandez.
I’m also wondering how I ever thought this would be a good idea. Facing him head-on, that is, but fear aside, there’s no way I could shy away from holding him personally accountable.
While sitting across from him, his scent is working against me, twisting my insides in warning, telling me to run.
“No one is coming.” He grins, shifting to lean on his elbows.
The move is intentionally intimidating. He’s crowding closer, attempting to scramble my thoughts. I sit back, trying to maintain the distance, then crossing my legs and relaxing into my seat, a sign of my own confidence.
“I’m not sure why, though.” I opt for the truth as a way to level the playing field.
He mocks me with laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re not sure why? I raised you better than that, Quintessa.”
I disagree with a quick shake of my head, holding a hand up to stop him. “Let’s not spend our time reminiscing. What happened in the past isn't going to change what you did yesterday.”
He hums, nodding his head in his conceited, pompous way. “I disagree, daughter," he croons, as though he’s trying to lull my racing anxiety. In reality, he is hoping to pick apart my determination, one small familial gesture at a time.
It won’t work, and I can’t let it. Not after what I have seen and now know. Remembering what I saw, and what happened, I answer my own question as to where the people are that I called for help, in a roundabout way.
I lift my eyes and use his technique of staring right through him as a way to feign my indifference. “You have alliances no one knows about, then?”
My father reclines back in his chair, showing me how absolutely confident he is about no one coming to help me. “It is my job. Fostering and working hard at sourcing, then maintaining beneficial advocacy. But yes, there are some alliances less obvious than others that stretch further than you can imagine. Even I can admit, only to you, of course, that what I have managed is blatantly glorious.”
I smile, absorbing his confession while continuing to subtly chip away against his dominance, and his over inflated sense of self-worth. Once he’s completely enthralled by his own supposed success, I use his flair for the dramatic and take a jab, intentionally speaking the way he hates. “You’re a cunt.”
I see the immediate impact of my cussing. He blinks in irritation before he manages to lock away his reaction. He’s back to maintaining this false facade when he speaks. “It seems that is a trait we share. But perhaps during our time apart, you will grow out of being one.”
As he talks, more of his scent blows across the space. Once upon a time, it would have brought me comfort, but once upon a time, I was a naive girl, unaware her father was such a foul man, willingly involved in abhorrent crimes.
He leans to the side of his chair, and my heart immediately races faster. After last night, I know he has killed before, so my fear is justified that he’s going to end our meeting with finality. If I had a weapon close by, I’d do it to him.
Instead of drawing a gun, he sets his briefcase on the table. With a small push, it tips to its side, and cash spills out. Bundles of it. “We’re at an impasse."
“We’re negotiating?” I ask, thinking for the first time I just might walk out of here alive.
“You tell me.”
Conscious of the games he likes to play, the recent events have made me see our time together differently. For a long time growing up, his “tests” were fun. Now I recognize his mental gymnastics as the workings of his devious intentions.
As a way of dealing with him, I lean in to all the tactics he taught. Clearing my throat of his caustic scent, and the strangling influence of his designation, I try to hide the triumph from my eyes. If he’s leading the negotiation, he’s as good as admitted he’s more disadvantaged in this situation than I am.
Apparently, I don’t hide my pride well enough.
“Don’t push me,” he warns with a snap of dominance.
I shake my head, looking away before swinging my gaze right back to him. “You say the strangest things sometimes.”
It’s an intentional barb, one he’s said to me many times. He does it to confound and cloud, to make you wonder if what you said was actually stupid or not. He did it constantly when I was younger to throw me off-kilter, and it used to work.
He dips his chin, his eyes flashing with his true character, reminding me of his reptilian nature. Oddly, he gives me a way to realign my emotions, back to the reasons we’re here.
“Considering you’re offering me a bag full of money, and there’s none of your ‘staff’ with us and you haven’t made any real threats, I think it’s safe to say you believe each and every word in the message I left on your phone this morning.”
He waves me off with a flick of his hand and rolls his eyes in one of his signature, dismissive moves. “Of course I believe you, sweetheart. Your stubborn determination is one of your most endearing qualities, but one I suspect will be your undoing too.”
I’d like to reach over the table and show him how stubborn I can be by punching him in his smug face.
