Page 94 of Knot My Only Fan

He doesn’t remove the look of the disgust plastered on his face. “Your life isn’t shit. You are.”

“Why the fuck are you here?” I grunt, slamming the glass on the table to my right and standing.

He hums as he walks closer to me. “We had a deal.”

“The only deal was taking your friend’s daughter to the charity evening. And I did that.”

He sneers. “You could be as happy as Stanton when you stop drinking and marry Raine.”

“Get it into your fucking head. I am not marrying Raine. I’m going to choose my own omega.”

“You disappoint me.”

“I’ve always disappointed you. Your family is one colossal disappointment to you.” I dig my index finger into his chest. “And one after the other, you lose them. And now it’s my turn.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m leaving this apartment.”

He smirks. “To move into a dive downtown?”

“It’s not about the fancy apartment, or cars. I’m leaving New York. I can’t stay here beholden to you any longer.”

As he stares, a gust of air escapes from his nostrils, creating a faint, audible sigh. Surprisingly quietly, he says, “I’ve got an election to win...”

His focus remains solely on himself, as always. He has zero interest in knowing where I might choose to go.

“Fuck you and fuck your election. You should be able to win on your own merits. If you need my help, you’re…”

I flinch as his hand rears back, bracing myself for the sting of his slap.

Whack!

At least, a slap doesn’t break bones or skin.

Laughing, I run my palm over my cheek, still feeling a slight sting. But the numbing effects of my alcohol have provided relief from the pain. Or perhaps it’s because I’ve felt it too many times.

My eyes flick to his intense gaze. “Did that make you feel better?”

With a sigh, he shakes his head in disbelief. “No.”

As his tongue moves across his teeth, his eyes remain fixed on me, studying my every move. “Who is she?”

“Nobody,” I declare, seizing the tumbler from the table and raising it triumphantly. “Cheers.”

His lips press into a tight, angry line.

A smirk spreads across my face. No matter how hard he tries, I can never bring myself to share anything about her with him. “It’s just easier to be fucking drunk. It hurts too much to be sober.”

He nods. “It’s somebody. I know. The last time I got this drunk was when your mother left me.”

I rear back, my mirth echoing through the room. “Nobody hurts you. Least of all, my mother.”

And for the first time in my life, my father’s eyes shimmer with tears. “She wasn’t my scent match, Lucas, but I still loved her. She gave me three children.” He sighs as he turns to the window.

I don’t know how long we stand in silence before my father turns back to me. “I thought I smelled her once.” He chews on the inside of his cheek as he goes to a different place. “My scent match…” He swallows and stops talking.

I narrow my eyes as I think about that. My father claims he doesn’t believe in scent matches or omegas being our equal.

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