“Downtown,” he said, not elaborating.
He was seated in a tufted leather chair in the dark room, looking like a Bond villain in a sharp, well-cut charcoal suit with a glass of something reddish orange and thick—probably a bloody Mary, from the looks of it—in his hand.
It was just after ten in the morning. Hard not to believe he’d been lying in wait for me to come and visit Max and Anja.
“A little early for a drink,” I commented. “Not going into work today?”
“I could ask you the same,” he said with a smug grin, taking a long sip from his glass.
Annoyingly, my father didn’t become addled or distracted when he drank. Just more focused. More cruel.
“What are they doing downtown?” I prodded. “And when will they be back?”
Maybe my best bet was to just call Anja and arrange to meet them wherever they were.
He shrugged. “No idea. I sent them out with my AmEx, to get some things for the little one’s room. I told Anja to buy whatever he wants. Money is no object where Max is concerned.”
I got a chill hearing my father call Max “the little one.” It was too intimate. Too personal. It also reminded me that he’d been aware of Max all these years and had purposely kept him from me. That hurt far worse than the knowledge that he had essentially paid off Anja to stay in hiding the whole time.
“How long are they planning to stay with you?” I asked, growing uneasy.
After taking a leisurely slug of the bloody Mary, my father said, “As long as they want.”
Fuck. The fact that he was trying to make Max’s room here more comfortable—likely in an effort to entice the kid and Anja to stick around more permanently—was sending up a million red flags in my mind. I hated that my son was under my father’s roof at all, even temporarily. It was a miracle I hadn’t ended up as twisted as he was after growing up under his influence, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to risk letting Max go through the same hell that I had.
I couldn’t let Max get tangled in his web, or allow him to be influenced by my father.
But what could I do? I would have been happy to remodel the spare room at my condo for the kid, but I didn’t want to live with Anja. Plus, Max still had no clue I was his dad. As far as he knew, I was just a friend of his mom’s. Offering to take Max in would have to wait.
I just didn’t understand why my father was suddenly so devoted to Anja and my son. The man could easily have put them up in a hotel nearby, so why had he arranged to keep them here at his place? He’d known about Max foreight yearsand then out of nowhere he decides he needs to get involved in the boy’s life? It made no sense. There was no reason for Anja and Max to still be here unless my father wanted something from them. Wanted to use them.
That my father was playing happy grandfather with Max was deeply suspicious.
It also made my anger boil up inside of me. I had been so angry at Anja for keeping Max a secret from me, but it was as much my father’s fault as hers. Because of his secrets and manipulations, I’d never gotten a chance to know my son until now.
“He’s a good kid,” my father mused, looking thoughtfully at his drink. “Smart, resilient, personable. No doubt he’ll be Zoric royalty someday. A nice addition to the family.”
His words were enough to put me over the edge.
“A nice addition?” I snapped. “This isn’t like adding a fucking room onto a house! He’smy son. And the reason I never had a chance to be a part of his life until now is becauseyoutook Anja away from me in the first place.”
I couldn’t stop myself from pacing the room, the rage rolling off of me. My father just watched me and laughed.
“Do you still believe that’s what happened?” he said. “It was her decision! I never coerced her. In fact, I tried to talk her out of it.”
“Bullshit,” I cut in.
“Don’t pin this on me.” He slammed his glass down. “You think it wasn’t obvious to me that the child would do better being raised by both parents? That’s what I told her! But Anja wanted out. So I helped her do that, in exchange for being able to keep tabs on my grandson. She was more than happy to take the money and run, trust me. It’s what she wanted all along.”
I didn’t believe him, didn’t know what to believe anymore, but it was hard to ignore the pain that came along with his words. After all, I seemed to be a man who women had consistently chosen to run away from.
“You almost sound like you buy into your own lies,” I told him bitterly. “I guess that happens when you never tell the truth.”
“The truth is always relative.” He got up to pour himself another drink. “But you need to let go of the past, Stefan. It doesn’t matter what happened all those years ago! What matters is that Anja is here now, with Max.” He smiled, lifting his glass in a toast. “Can’t we just take a moment and agree this is tremendous?”
“My son is seven years old,” I said, grinding out the words. “And the first time I saw his face, or even knew of his existence, was six days ago.”
“I told Anja not to buy any new furniture,” my father said breezily, putting the cap back on the bottle of vodka and heading back to his chair. “Since I’m sure you’re going to set up something at your house for both of them soon enough.”
