Page 56 of Once Upon A Sale

If she asked me the same question, I’d have to lie. Honestly, I have no idea how this is going to play out.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, and hey…” She pulls me into her, wrapping her arm around my waist and looking up into my eyes. “Thanks for helping me and the girls research.”

Reaching up on her tiptoes, she kisses me, softly, then grins as I link her fingers through mine.

“Any time, Kitten.” I tug on her hand a little and start walking.

The Steakhouse restaurant is fine dining, and is the same place I always meet Dad for our six-monthly meet-up. It’s usually a lot busier than this, and my first official sign that this night is going down the route badly fucked is the fact that only two other cars are here.

There’s no maître d’ upon entering. That’s my second sign. Turning the fuck around and leaving isn’t an option at this point, though.

“Son!” Dad stands from his seat at our usual table in the corner, the ideal position for him to see everything. He steps toward us when we approach, holding out his palm.

I take it, shaking his hand with a polite nod, “Dad, this is Ophelia.” No point in lying about her name. The Firm already knows it since Dexter and co reported back their intel before their untimely demise.

“Ophelia, a pleasure to meet you, young lady.”

Without saying a word, Ophelia politely curtsies, a light smile on her plump lips. Dad grins, seemingly pleased with her performance so far. Being the perfect socialite that she is at all the fundraisers she attends, things like this come easy to her. It’s just a simple sign of respect that she’s happy to give.

She’s aware of the plan, to persuade my dad that she’s my submissive, that she’s under control and won’t be killing any more members of The Firm. In reality, that’s all bullshit, she’s just gonna have to be a lot more fucking careful and not get caught on CCTV, as well as speed the whole process up. Taking her time with it is just making it easier for them to come for her.

“Please, sit.” Dad takes his own seat and gestures to the two chairs opposite him, with their backs to the rest of the completely empty room. Not a soul is in here having a meal, other than us, and the only other people are very obvious security men and a singular waiter approaching the table as we sit.

“Can I take your order?” The waiter, who is absolutely not a waiter if the cut of his suit is anything to go by, holds up a small tablet.

“A bottle of the 2005 Château Lagrange for the table. Three Ceaser salads to begin, and we’ll all have the prime ribeye, rare,”Dad orders for us all, and I ball my fist beneath the table, my other hand clutching onto Ophelia.

I hate when he does that, but he’s asserting his dominance over us; a subtle way to let me know that I’m fucked if I make one wrong move here tonight.

The thing with my dad is that he never really took the time to know me properly. I appear to be the boy he always wanted. Okay, so I followed in his footsteps and did everything he asked, right down to joining The Firm, but I never really had a reason to want to do anything else. Being the boy he wanted didn’t come with a lot of time spent together, though.

I’ve managed to get myself into some interesting scrapes over the years, but I’ve also done the training necessary to get myself out of them. So this little scenario doesn’t worry me for the reasons that Dad wants it to.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be right out with the wine.” The waiter walks away and through the double doors into the kitchen area.

“You’re being an obedient little bitch. I guess Jarrett was right. He has tamed the shrew.”

Ophelia’s grip on my hand beneath the table tightens, but she holds her tongue. Me, on the other hand, no.

“Dad, there’s no need for that kind of language. She’s here. I did exactly what I was supposed to do. Subdued the enemy. Done. Can we just have our meal without the crap?” What I really want to do is rip his throat out for the way he spoke to her. The thought surprises me though, because I have never wished harm on my dad.

His response is to laugh, a booming loud one that fills the room.

“Of course. I had the place emptied so you have free reign with your new submissive.” Dad raises his brows expectantly.

“I’m not planning on doing anything in front of you either. That’s fucking sick.”

He laughs again, and it’s grating on my nerves. Why have I not noticed how much of a douche he is until now? I can usually handle the twice a year face-to-face visits with minimal conversation.

As we discussed, Ophelia stays silent throughout all this, the only signal that she’s as pissed off as I am is the hand squeezing.

“Stand up, girl. Bend over that table and lift up your skirt.”

“I don’t fucking think so.” It takes everything in me to not throw my steak knife at him.

“Watch your language around me, Son. You belong to The Firm, therefore your submissive belongs to The Firm. I’m your superior. What I say, goes.” The smirk on his face isn’t one I’m used to seeing. I don’t like it.

This is all going south quicker than I imagined.

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