Lance took a sip of whiskey. “You think aggression helps your case?”
“I think men like you call it aggression when a man like me doesn’t lower his eyes.”
He set the glass down. “A man like you?”
“You’ve been saying it all night without using the words.”
His expression stayed controlled, but something meaner settled behind his eyes. “Then allow me to be clearer. My daughter has a future that doesn’t need to be complicated by a man still trying to prove he can outrun his past.”
I laughed once, quiet and sharp. “You really practice this shit, don’t you?”
His face hardened.
“You dress control up like concern, toss in a few words about her future, make me the threat, then stand back and pretend you’re just a father protecting his little girl.” I stepped closer, slow enough that it couldn’t be mistaken for losing control. “That might work on people who need your money or your approval. I don’t need either.”
“No,” he said, his voice cooling. “But Charm does.”
That one landed exactly where he meant it to. Not in me. In her.
The room went still, and Lance watched my face like he wanted to see the moment I understood the game. He wasn’t trying to scare me off. He was telling me he didn’t have to. Charm was the leash. Her school. Her comfort. Her family.Her fear of disappointing people who had spent her whole life teaching her that love came with conditions and obedience kept the peace.
I smiled at him, and this time I let the ugly show.
“You’re not a protective father,” I said. “You’re a coward with leverage.”
His glass hit the desk a little too hard.
“Pinche madre. Finally.” I gave a bitter laugh.
“Careful,” he said.
I moved closer, stopping on the other side of his desk. “You don’t scare me, Lance. I broke you faster than your country-club buddies would sneer at you for. You crave control, and you’re powerful when you have it. But you forget some men will never heel.”
“You should consider whether I can make life difficult.”
“For me?” I asked. “Get in line.”
“For her.”
The answer came fast enough to tell me he’d been waiting to use it.
My hands flexed at my sides. I let him see that too. Let him see the leash on me wasn’t fear. It was choice. It was Charm. It was the fact that I’d promised myself I wouldn’t make her regret bringing me here by giving her father the scene he wanted.
“You don’t get to use my love for her as a weapon,” I said.
“I’m asking you to consider what loving her actually requires.”
“No, you’re asking me to leave so she doesn’t have to choose.” My voice dropped lower. “You’re asking me to hurt her for you and call it noble so she won’t resent you.”
His mouth flattened.
I leaned in, hands braced on the edge of his desk now, close enough that he had to look up to hold my stare. “Listen to me carefully. I’m not some boy you can shame out of your house. I’m not the foster kid at your table hoping the rich family lets him stay for dessert. I know exactly what I am. I know what I’ve survived. I know what I’ve earned. And I know your daughter doesn’t look at me like I’m beneath her until someone in this house reminds her she’s supposed to.”
Lance’s eyes flashed. “Charm is young.”
“Charm is grown.”
“She’s impressionable.”
