Just as my father starts to speak again, a phone starts ringing from inside the office.
“What?” My father barks out, presumably having answered the call, snapping at whoever on the other end of the line.
“When?” he demands again, followed by a moment of silence where someone must respond to his question.
“I’m in the middle of something. Check it out and I’ll be up when I can,” he states with authority, before presumably hanging up as I hear Charles speak next.
“Problems?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Robert replies shortly, “what’s the other problem you needed to talk to me about?”
“This guy. He’s been digging around and asking questions he shouldn’t be,” Charles explains, likely having handed my father a picture or name card or something.
“Doesn’t mean he knows anything.”
“I have security footage of him sneaking around in my office at work. Not that there is anything there for him to find, but he’s persistent. He’s had it out for me since I became Governor and I can’t have him digging around, especially now. I won’t allow him to interfere with my plans.”
“Alright. I’ll put my men on it. They are in need of some action anyway. Turns out, security isn’t as exciting a job as they anticipated and they are starting to get impatient. This won’t go unnoticed though.”
Robert and Charles discuss all of this so casually, but based on what I’ve heard I’m pretty sure these two monsters are talking about threatening or killing whoever gets in their way. What the fuck is wrong with these people? They discuss murder as if it’s the natural solution to all their problems. Fuck, for these assholes it probably is. They have clearly done it before and gotten away with it. Hell, it was only a week ago I watched my father murder a man in the room behind me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll sort it, just deal with him,” Charles asserts impatiently, “I have some competitors I need help eliminating too. I’ll send you a list of names. The next auction will be at the end of the month, I will need a number of your men available on the day.” Charles says ambiguously, only serving to raise more questions about what ‘business’ these two are involved in. Something involving The Feral Beasts, whatever it is.
“Now, have you upheld your side?” My father enquires with a hint of a threat in his tone. Anyone else would be shaking where they stand, but Mr. Donaghue just snorts at my father’s attempt to intimidate him.
“Of course, I have. Three of your men will be paroled by the end of the week.”
“Good.”
After a moments silence, Mr. Donaghue speaks up. “A new shipment should be here in a few days. I’ll have someone arrange to take you to the house when it arrives, so you can see the operation. It should be easy for you to replicate back in Oregon and show others how to set up.”
“And where are we with arranging a meeting with the others?”
“We’re getting there. You need to prove yourself first. Just do what I have asked and we will talk again.”
“Fine.” My father finally grinds out, annoyed at having to cater to the likes of Mr. Donaghue. “That’s everything then? I should get back before people notice I’m missing.”
Knowing the conversation is coming to a close, I quickly duck into the alcove across from my father’s office. I just get out of sight when the office door opens, and Mr. Donaghue steps out. He looks up and down the corridor before sauntering back towards the party.
I stay in my hiding spot waiting for my father to leave before daring to move.
After waiting there for what is probably ten, fifteen minutes, there is still no sign of my father coming out of his office. Perhaps he isn’t planning on returning to the party like he told Mr. Donaghue.
Knowing I can’t afford to stay hidden any longer in case someone comes looking for me, and not wanting my father to return to the party and find me gone, I decide to risk it and step out of the alcove.
Of course, this is when my father chooses to open his office door and spots me standing in the middle of the hallway like a deer caught in headlights. Fuckitty fuck.
“What are you doing here?” he snaps, glaring at me while a vein pulses on his forehead. Fuck. Shit. Fuck
“I…eh….I came to find you. You’ve been missing for a while, and people were starting to ask where you’d gone.” I justify, trying to think of a plausible excuse as to why I could be here.
Before I can think any more on it, my father reaches out and grabs me roughly by the arms, dragging me close to him.
Tilting his head, his eyes narrow in suspicion as they bore into mine, as though he’s trying to read my thoughts.
“Were you in my suite tonight?” He asks out of the blue, his voice low and threatening. My eyebrows pull together in confusion. Why would he think that? Was someone else in his suite tonight?
“What?” I splutter out, “N…N…No. Of course not.”
“If you were spying on me girl, you will regret it,” he snarls, getting right in my face. “I’ve been playing nice and so far you have served your purpose. That could change at any moment and I can assure you, you won’t like it if I suddenly have no use for a teenage girl,” He continues to threaten, his voice low and eerily calm. God, does it petrify me.
Having seen what I saw, the other week, in the room right across the hall, I am painfully aware of one thing in this moment, my father, Robert Montgomery, wouldn’t hesitate to murder me if I became a complication. This is a truly horrific reality I’m just now, in this moment, fully grasping.
Of course, I knew my father didn’t care about me. I knew he would probably kill me if he had to. However, seeing the reality of that snarling in my face, looking at me like I’m a bug he would love nothing better than to squish, it’s nothing short of terrifying.
I am his own daughter, his flesh and blood, and he wouldn’t blink an eye if he killed me. I wouldn’t even be a distant memory. He would just forget I ever existed and move on.
What does that say about my life, about me, that my only living relative, my own father, isn’t interested in keeping me beyond his own gain? Well, fuck, that revelation isn’t anything short of completely and utterly depressing.
Unable to form words, I simply nod back at him. He continues to stare me down for another minute before dragging me up the hall behind him, back towards the ballroom. He still has a death grip on my upper arm and I know it will leave bruises tomorrow. Hell, I’m surprised my shoulder joint is still in its socket with the way he has been yanking on it, but I refuse to show any weakness in front of this asshole, despite my racing heart and sweaty palms.
Instead, I do my best to keep up with his huge strides in my high heels – frig, it’s a miracle I haven’t already gone over on my ankle in these death traps - and stumble up the hall behind him.
As we pass the final alcove in the hallway, before reaching the foyer and heading back to the party, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye.
Looking back, I see Barrett hiding in the dark, staring back at me with wide eyes. Our eyes connect and he gives me a sad smile before I am pulled around the corner and back into the ballroom.
I have no idea how much he saw, or what it means, and I don’t have the time right now to process any of it. Now that I am back in the same room as sleazy Mr. Belmont, the rest of the one-percenters and a father I can’t afford to piss off any further, I need to stay focused and keep my wits about me. God, when will this party finally be over?