Page 23 of Fragile

I was argumentative and aggressive with a strong preference for thinking over feeling. Those who thought they knew me, probably saw me as a narcissist, but I called that self-preservation and putting myself out there. If you didn’t stick your head above the parapet, you didn’t get noticed, fact.

I could think logically and this led to me accepting that I was usually the smartest person in the room. I was also a good judge of character and under normal circumstances had an excellent memory; hence my ambition to be the best lawyer I could be. Head and shoulders above my old man anyway.

The lift pinged, the doors sliding open and I braced myself to see my father in all his menacing glory, but that wasn’t what I was faced with. He strode out of the lift with the usual confidence but he had lost weight and he was ashen-faced. No doubt a downside to working with the fucking mafia.

His expression was unreadable; a usual occurrence, considering he held his cards close to his chest. I wondered if he was ill and why his cheeks looked so sunken. And that was all I would do about it, wonder. You didn’t ask Garrett Knight if he was OK as he would never admit to any type of weakness. That included the common cold; whilst most of us would sneeze and splutter, Garrett would hold that fucker in until his eyes watered.

“This is a surprise. I thought Soho made you nauseous,” I drawled, leaning back against the kitchen counter with folded arms.

Garrett's shrewd eyes ran over my stance. He knew I wasn’t happy to see him.

“I didn’t come here to fight with you Gabriel,” he said, his voice traced with a hint of amusement. That worried me as Garrett didn’t usually find things funny and seeing him smile was rare. To put it bluntly, a sense of humour and my father didn’t orbit the same space.

“That’s weird,” I replied with a twist to my lips. My father’s brow scrunched.

“What is?”

“You appear to be in a good mood.”

“Yes, well don’t get too used to it,” Garrett sniped as he strolled past me as if he owned the place, which of course, he did.

I watched with narrowed eyes as my father plucked the bottle of whisky that I had been drinking last night off the kitchen counter. He was a tall man and imposing even though his dark hair was now peppered with grey.

After foraging in one of the wall units, he turned to face me clutching two glasses in one hand, and the bottle of scotch in the other. He then walked over to the counter I had been leaning on and placed the glasses there.

Remaining silent, I waited until he had poured two measures and then he pushed one at me with his knuckles. It slid across the space and I curled my fingers around it. You didn’t refuse to drink with Garrett Knight, it just wasn’t done.

“So, how are your studies going?” he questioned, savouring the single malt.

I turned and placed one of my hands flat against the counter, we were now watching each other over the surface. Garrett was facing the living room behind me where my laptop and books were. He flicked a glance in the direction of my work. “Going well?”

“It would be better if I were actually studying, instead of drinking liquor at two in the afternoon. What are you doing here Garrett?”

The bite in my tone didn’t faze him. “I’m just checking in on you, I was in the area. Can’t a man pop by to see his son on a whim?”

What a pile of shit; Garrett Knight did nothing on a whim. I wrinkled my nose; you could almost smell the bullshit. “You clearly want something.”

Garrett finished his drink and poured another, mine remained in front of me untouched.

“I heard you have a girl living here.” Fuck me, news travelled fast.

Shrugging my shoulders, I quirked him a look. “And?”

“So, who is she?”

I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip, the amber liquid burning the back of my throat.

“Nobody,” I replied flatly, hopefully without expression.

Garrett raised a thickset eyebrow, his face stating that he didn’t believe a thing I said.

“I heard she’s quite a looker.”

A burst of annoyance shot through me; who the fuck had been running their mouths off?

There was a beat of strained silence.

Of course, Marco. Asher had used my driver to transport Leonie and her stuff over.

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