Daniel continues as if I didn’t speak.“There is already—” he pauses, then chooses his words carefully, “—some interest.Your father prefers to address it before it becomes uncontrolled.”
Interest.
The word is a trap.
Interest means someone knows something.Interest means someone has eyes.Interest means there’s already a file with my name on it and a list of people I love written underneath.
Or ...and this is the part that I’m thinking is really happening.“They’re using this as leverage.”
My gaze flicks instinctively to the stairs.
Vesper.
Monty.
The baby.
It’s not their war.It never should’ve been.
But my family doesn’t understand the concept of things that matter to me.They only understand things they think they can own.
“What exactly is the threat here?”I ask, because naming it matters.“Let’s stop dancing.”
Daniel exhales again, patient.“Your father is requesting that you return to New York and attend a board meeting.Within seventy-two hours.”
I let out a sound that’s half laugh, half disbelief.“No.”
Silence.
Then, softer, “If you decline, he will consider you in breach.”
“Breach of what?”I ask again, harder.“Spell it out.”
“Breach of your family agreement,” Daniel says, and the phrase lands like a slap because of course it’s called that.Of course they gave coercion a cute name.
“And what happens if I’m in breach?”I ask.
It means press.
It means leverage.
“You can’t,” I say quietly.
Daniel’s response is immediate.“He can.The press will be very eager to learn what’s happening with the youngest Winthrop, who always evades the press.”
I set the mug down carefully, because my hands are shaking now and I refuse to show it.
“Is that all?”I ask, voice bright again, almost cheerful.“Or is there more?”
There’s always more.
Daniel clears his throat.“Your mother is also concerned about the ...optics of your relationships.”
Relationships.
Plural.
My jaw clenches so hard it hurts.“Is she now?”
