“I was quite fond of your father, Miss Lira.” Roger tugged at his cravat. “And of your late mother, actually. She and my older sister were friendly.”
Mercy, she wanted to smack David in the face. Or “accidentally” spill hot tea in his lap. Again. But despite that fact, she reined in her temper and frowned in consideration at Roger’s words. Beside her, Pena finally drew back and positioned himself by the fireplace.
Not that Roger’s prior relationship with her mother was a surprise, per se. They had common cousins in Amsterdam, and even in a growing community, like attracted like. It was just she’d died so young, Isabelle had no memories to judge what, if anything, that connection meant.
“We all grew up together. I was just the runt who tagged along after them.” He shook his head, and a shadow flitted over his light eyes despite his next words. “It’s funny.”
“What is?” she asked.
“When she passed, I wasn’t yet thirteen. At the time, I shrugged when my own mother and sister worried over your father—how much he had lost and how hard it must be.” He crossed farther into the room, creasing the red floral rug. Isabelle’s fingers clenched together as David took the opportunity to drag one of her father’s neatly positioned chairs to her desk before hunching down, file still in hand.
“I couldn’t see his struggles,” Roger said. “He was so young and strong, after all.” He inhaled sharply as he reached the mantel. “I’m more than a decade older than he was, and I find the weight of the responsibility crushing. There’s not just the business and community, but my duties to my children.” He ran a thumb along the smooth black marble. “They’re practically infants, and yet I am both father and mother, alone . . . like your father was.”
Only that wasn’t quite true, was it?
Isabelle’s heart squeezed at the memories his words sparked. Late in the evening—or really, in the night—she and Pena would sneak into her father’s study, creaking open the door, to see him sitting there, bent over the books, hand in his thick, shiny black hair. He’d raise his head, and when he saw them, the widest smile would come over his face. She’d run and leap into his lap to tell him of whatever adventure Pena had created for her.
And then both men would take her by the hand and lead her into the nursery, letting her ramble. By the time she was in bed, her eyes would already be drooping. Side by side, they’d take turns reading her bits of history or philosophy as she drifted off.
“He had help.” She glanced back and met Pena’s eye.
“Your family. Yes.” Roger cleared his throat. “We have that in common.” He craned his neck to David, who was still flipping through the file.
She pursed her lips.
Roger gave a nervous cough. “I merely want you to know that I understand you and your position—how much pressure there is, how much weight you have on your shoulders right now. Your many duties and expectations.” Tugging at his collar, he took a deep breath. “I know if you consider our solutions fairly, you will come to see . . . my family only wants what’s best for the company and the community.” He turned to his brother, but David only grunted from his chair. “This really is quite awkward,” Roger finished quite morosely.
She folded her arms and glowered. “You and your brothers have already said that, so perhaps—”
“Why can you not just accept this is the right course for everyone?” David snapped the file shut and rose. “Do what is needed and act like a properly raised adult for once in your life. Or are you still so much a child?”
Why did he always have to needle?
“My actions always meet the moment and the company,” she retorted, moving toward him, her hand itching for the knife she kept in her sleeve. Not to hurt him, just to scare him a little, like he deserved. Likebothbrothers deserved.
Glaring himself now, Roger stepped between them. “My brother might not be stating things in the most delicate manner, but he is not wrong. You need to grow up, Miss Lira. For the company you claim to care so much about and for your family. And for the community and our place in it. Uniting as one true force is best for everyone.” His voice strained. “I cannot promise you love. But I would maintain your status, give you protection, and shoulder some of your responsibilities. With the signing of our ketubah, you’d gain a house of your own, with children to raise and a position in any women-led charitable organization you’d like. Would that truly be so terrible?”
Not for him, perhaps, but for her . . .
Uniting would be more like being subsumed. However right he was—insomeways.
Isabelle swallowed. If she married Roger or his brother, she could ensure social protection for her grandmother and Pena. Their statuses would never falter. Their lifestyles would never have to change.
But as for her father’s legacy, well, what would become of that? Not to mention her own future.
Perhaps what she was attempting was selfish as well as dangerous, but could she truly sacrifice everything that should rightfully be hers in exchange for a modicum of safety? All because David Berab was unpleasant and odious and sought to thwart any independent success she had at every turn?
And more, why didshehave to be the one to compromise?
“You would be one of us,” Roger added, moving so close that Pena pushed off the wall and crossed to her side in three steps, placing himself between the two. David scowled but said nothing.
“And no longer my father’s daughter,” she whispered. No longer a Lira.
Roger gave Pena a nervous glance before returning his focus to her. “You’d always be that.”
“Would I?” Her throat tightened. “Would I really?”
David released an exasperated huff. “Consider what you are doing. Your father was bold and talented, but the company needs to find a way to move forward without him.”
