Page 20 of Blades of Obsession

He hums. “I’ll go over your complaint, talk to your dad to get more details, and let him know by tomorrow. Sorry, I don’t have more time today. I’m running late for lunch with my wife.”

Crap. I knew stopping in that long brunch line would backfire on us. My dad can never make it anywhere on time.

The logical part of me knows if I don’t get that paper today, my dad will find some way to blame it on me—whether he’ll criticize the way I spoke, the way I dressed, or how I didn’t show the proper respect.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll look forward to your answer.” I start to rise, but he stops me.

“Oh, I never caught your name, young lady. You go to Crestview, right? How old are you, and what year? My daughter is new there and she could use some friends.”

“Amelia.” I flash my best beaming smile, trying to make a good impression. This guy seems like the type youneedto make a good impression with. “I’m a freshman, but I’m nineteen because I repeated a year in high school.”

Why did I just tell him that? I always overshare when I’m nervous.

“Amelia...Amelia. Hm.” The way he repeats my name, like it’s sour on his tongue, makes my stomach churn. He sucks his teeth, and suddenly the atmosphere shifts. His once somewhat friendly eyes narrow, turning dark. “That name sounds familiar.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly finding the artwork behind him as fascinating as the Mona Lisa. Anything to avoid looking him directly in the eyes.

After a long pause, he says, “I’ve reviewed your complaint, Amelia. And my final answer is no. Don’t bring any similar matters to me in the future.”

“What? I-I thought you said you’d give your final answer by to—”

The darkness in his eyes zero in on me, making my throat tighten and rendering me speechless. I try to swallow the lump now forming in my throat, but it doesn’t help.

“You should’ve known better than to come here with such a foolish request,” he hisses. “Blade is like a son to me. He talks about you constantly. Amelia this, Amelia that. To be honest, I’m tired of hearing your name.”

His words hit like a slap to the face, knocking the air from my lungs. I pause, weighing my response carefully. “My dad and him don’t get along. I’m scared they’ll hurt each other.”

“Cindy, stop typing,” he orders, then lowers his voice. “Listen closely. If you hurt Blade, I will kill your dad and not even think twice about it.” I gasp, my eyes wide. “If you break his heart, I know over sixty different ways to kill a person, and I’m learning new ones every day.”

The weight of his not-so-subtle threat presses down on me like a suffocating blanket. It’s hard to breathe. Panic claws its way up my throat as I grapple with the terrifying ultimatum.

Be with Blade or...my dad dies?

He’s far from the best dad, but he’s the only family I have left, unless you count my junkie aunt in California.

“Speaking of Harvey—” He presses a button that leads to an intercom system. “Let him in.”

A few seconds pass, and my dad strolls in smiling, oblivious that we’ve been caught, and that I now basically hold his life in my hands.

“Hello, John.” My dad gives him the same beaming smile I tried to win him over with. “I hope all is going well.”

“Did you know she came here to get away from Blade?”

My dad’s face falls faster than a skydiver without a parachute, and the danger we’re in feels just as deadly. “Yes, I did,” he admits, sighing.

“Why would you do something like that, Harvey? What was your plan once I found out?”

“I thought… I don’t know what I thought.” My dad’s shoulders slump. “Maybe the letter would get him to back off long enough for him to give up.”

John chuckles. “Give up? I think you’re sorely mistaken about his intentions with your daughter if you expected him to just give up.”

“I know his intentions.” My dad’s jaw tightens. “She’s my daughter. This was a last resort. I had to try something.”

Intentions?Can someone say these intentions out loud so I can know them too? They’re talking about me like I’m not even here.

“I know, and I understand.” John half-sighs. “Which is why I’ll only send you to the dungeon for three days. I was thinking a week at first.”

“What?! No, I can’t go back there!” my dad pleads, and he genuinely looks like he’s about to piss his pants. He springs up from his seat, as if he’s about to make a break for it, and John’s eyes narrow on him.

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