I want the life I accidentally made with Fae.
Especially on the night she wanted to end things.
And now it’s all happening and I don’t know what the fuck my problem is.
But anyway, back to my father and the reason he’s called me into his office. Which he states as soon as I enter the room.
“This belongs to you, I take it.”
And as soon as I hear those words, I forget to breathe.
I forget to move.
I forget that I ever knew the meaning of being afraid.
I didn’t know. I never knew.
Not until this moment.
Not until I see what he has in his hands.
A square photo. A black and white blurry picture from the last doctor’s appointment.
Of Halo.
I snap my eyes up to my father’s face and there’s a slight triumphant smirk on his mouth. “It looks like you’ve been keeping a secret from me.”
With a conscious effort, I breathe deep.
I breathe to calm down the terror inside my body, the chill.
It’s like my bones are freezing over.
But still, I unhinge my jaw and say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He grazes the edge of the photo with his finger. “I think you know. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Although, I’m a little hurt.”
The sight of my father’s dirty, villainous hands touching something so pure is making me want to leap across the space and snatch it from him.
It’s making me want to rip his fingers off his body.
But I stay put. I try to sound nonchalant. “Didn’t know you were capable of being hurt.”
“Well, I am. I’m a sensitive man. And this is such big news. The biggest.” His smile appears wolfish, his gray eyes flashing with cruelty as he throws the photo away and threads his fingers. “My new secretary, Linda — you’ve met her — she found it on the floor by your desk and well, she let it slip in one of her, let’s say, weak moments.”
Even though he’s not touching Halo anymore and that brings a bit of relief, I still fist my hands.
I still dig my nails into my flesh.
That he found out. That my plan, my promise, failed.
“You mean, when you were fucking her,” I say.
He shrugs, sitting in his throne-like chair. “I was trying to be tactful.”
“Don’t start on my account.”
He smiles again, watching me. “You’re going to be a father, huh? That’s a big job. Being a father.”
“Yeah, you’d know a lot about it, wouldn’t you?”
“Come on.” He laughs, making my skin crawl. “Don’t be that way, son. I should be the one who’s mad. You hid it from me. You hid that I’m going to be a grandpa. And you did a good job of it, I must say. I never had a clue. Not one single clue. I feel foolish, to be frank.”
“You should. You’re not exactly bright.”
Anger flashes through his eyes but he chooses to let my dig go.
He has something bigger up his sleeve, I know. I can feel it.
He wants revenge.
He wants to put me in my place for hiding things from him, for playing him. Like he did two years ago when he had Fae arrested just because he wanted to get to me.
To punish me for years of taunting him with soccer.
He settles back in his chair then. “I can’t help but think why. Why would you hide something so big from your own father? You don’t think I mean your future child any harm, do you?”
“You —”
“You don’t think I mean her harm,” he says, tilting his head to the side to look at the photo again, reading off it, “Calliope Thorne.”
“Don’t,” I snap with clenched teeth, “say her name.”
He laughs again. “She must be one special girl, this Calliope.” I clench my jaw again when he says it. “Well, she’s already proven herself to be so useful. A fucking goldmine, I have to say, and I haven’t even met her yet. She —”
“Stop talking about her,” I snap again, and this time, I move.
I stride over to his desk with violence running in my veins, and when I reach it, I put my hands on the wood, bend over and growl, “What the fuck do you want?”
His wolfish smile grows.
He knows he’s got me.
He knows I’m going to do whatever the fuck he wants me to do.
“Nothing really. Just wanted to see it with my own eyes.”
“See what?”
He chuckles. “If you’re still whipped. What is it about her though, I wonder? Is it because she’s a dancer?”
“What?”
He smiles, his eyes flashing. “What, you thought I wouldn’t find out everything, every fucking thing, about the mother of my grandchild?” He chuckles again. “She’s a ballerina, huh? A good one from what I’ve heard. And she’s got her little heart set on Juilliard. My, my. Apparently, it’s one of the best schools and apparently, they’re pretty fucking lucky to have her. At least, that’s what he said when I talked to him, the dean. Turns out, I know him. I’ve asked him to take good care of her. She’s family now, isn’t she? You saw to that. And unlike you, the girl’s got ambition. She wants to dance for the New York City Ballet Company. I think I like her more than I ever liked you.”
My fingers vibrate on the desk, with fear, with dread, as he takes a pause to let his words sink in.
As he makes all my nightmares come true.
“But then, are you sure you want to give her that much freedom? Maybe she’s better off, staying home, taking care of your sweet little kid, who I very much hope takes after its mommy rather than its useless fucking daddy.”
“You fucking –"
Finally, his façade breaks and my father becomes the villain he is. “Watch your fucking tone with me, boy. You don’t want to piss me off. You don’t want to get me upset. Not right now, you fucking piece of shit.” His jaw clenches. “You think you can keep things from me, huh? You think you’re so clever keeping things from your old man, taunting him, rebelling against him. I tolerated that back when you were growing up. With your goddamn soccer and your teenage rebellion and little revenge plans. I let it go but those days are over. Those fucking days are over. You know what you are now? You’re my bitch. You do what I tell you to do. I ask you to jump, you ask how high. I ask you to get down on your knees in front of me, you better be prepared to not only get down on your knees but to lick my fucking boots. And if you don’t, I’ll take your happy little family and crush them under those same fucking boots, you understand, you shithead. Don’t ever keep anything from me or try to pull one on me or I’d be happy to remind you, Roman. I’d be happy to remind you who the boss is.”
Bile surges up my throat.
He’s the only one who calls me that. Roman. And I’ve fucking hated that name for as long as I can remember.