Fuck.
I’m furious with him, and I’m not sure I can hold back when I see him, so I wait, letting him come to me. He’s with his driver, who doubles as a security guard, and they come down the walkway slowly, looking around.
“What happened?” My father asks as he approaches.
“Like you don’t know?” I counter, scowling, hands on my hips.
“One of my staff saw a report on the news and recognized your name,” he replies, coming closer. “Are you okay?”
“Well, I mean, Grandma’s favorite peacock, whom I’ve loved most of my life, was fucking murdered, so, you know, not really.” I glare at him.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a tight voice. “I didn’t realize…”
“You didn’t realize what? That your thugs were going to actually kill the birds? Did you tell them to just break a few things, to scare me?”
“You think I had something to do with this?” His brows knit together. “Why would I do that?”
“You’ve been trying to strong arm me into selling the property for years. Why wouldn’t you?”
We stare at each other, but he shakes his head. “Holly, I give you my word as your father—I had nothing to do with this.”
He looks pretty damn sincere but he’s a politician. He makes his living by pretending to be sincere.
“Well, unless you plan to roll up your sleeves and start helping clean up, I have to go.”
He looks frustrated. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I have to get going.”
“Of course you do.” I shake my head. “I know you were behind this, Dad. I also think it’s shitty that you invited my ex-fiancé to dinner the first time you met my new husband’s family.”
“He was over at the house—it seemed rude to tell him to leave.”
“Ruder than inviting my ex to have dinner with my husband?” I stare at him. “I think we have very different opinions about the definition of the word rude.”
“Must everything be a fight with you, Holly?” he asks quietly. “I truly came to make sure you were okay.”
“I was supposed to be in Anchorage watching my husband win a championship,” I snap. “Instead, I’m here dealing with a disaster.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I think you’ve done enough.”
His face tightens but then he shrugs. “Well, have it your way. You should call your mother. She misses you.”
“The phone works both ways,” I mutter under my breath.
I’m too mad to watch him leave so I head inside, ready to jump back into the work. I know I should at least text Viktor, let him know what’s going on, but I’m not ready to rehash the whole thing yet again. Seeing it in person is hard enough—I really don’t want to tell another person the story.
But I do owe him a response.
With a sigh, I pull out my phone and send a quick text.
HOLLY: I’m sorry I haven’t reached out—it’s been a very, very hard day. I’m sure Kelly will fill you in.
VIKTOR: I’m sorry. Can I do anything? What do you need?
HOLLY: I don’t know. I’m so exhausted I can’t even think straight right now.
VIKTOR: I’m here for you, whatever you need. Okay?
