Page 64 of Deception & Daylight
He lifts my chin, forcing me to see the sincerity in his eyes. “When are you gonna realize I don’t do anything I don’t want to do?”
“Are you sure?”
Miles tugs my bottom lip free from where I’d been biting it. “Of course. What are boyfriends for it not to run interference?”
Feeling a little of my confidence returning, I smirk, “I can think of a few other things.”
“Ooook,” Lucy interrupts. “I’ll call the caterers. I get the feeling your dad wouldn’t be too keen on my homemade lasagna.”
“Hey! I love your lasagna.”
“Thank you, sweet girl. But let’s not make this any more difficult than it has to be. I can get a delivery from the French place in Willow Valley easily enough.”
“Thank you, Lucy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I pull her into a hug, her warmtha comforting contrast to my father’s chilling demeanor, and it eases some of the pain left behind by his blatant disapproval.
“You just worry about putting that man in his place, my girl. You deserve the world. And a birthday cake. So go on — I have work to do!”
Miles and I are already seated in the dimly lit dining room when Dad strolls into the room. He approaches, standing stoically beside a woman who can’t be much older than I am, her expression pinched and her nose wrinkled up toward the ceiling, a look of utter disdain on her face.
She’s dressed in a black minidress that leaves nothing to the imagination, and the rock on her finger tells me I’m looking at wife number four. The change in her demeanor is instantaneous; a flicker of disinterest giving way to a sultry gaze directed at Miles, openly betraying her lack of true commitment to my father.
Dad pulls out a seat for his wife, offering her more courtesy in that one gesture than I’ve received in an entire lifetime, before taking his place beside her. She pushes her breasts together, leaning over the table directly across from Miles, and my possessive side rears its ugly head. Before I can make a move, Miles is brushing the hair off my forehead and kissing me in a way that simultaneously steals my breath, and breathes life back into me. “Better?” he whispers. Words suddenly foreign, I nod. I’ve had a few glasses of wine to prepare for this dinner, and now I’m not so sure if that was a good idea.
Dad clears his throat, interrupting our stolen moment. “Who’s your friend?”
Miles reaches a hand across the table. “I’m Miles Barlow, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Dad’s gaze flicks to Miles' extended hand, but he ignores the gesture. “You must be what’s keeping my daughter so distracted. Figures.”
Miles responds without missing a beat. “I don’t know about that, sir. But I adore your daughter. Honestly, I’m just honored she’s giving me the time of day.” Miles smiles that devastating smile that makes my knees weak, but it goes unreciprocated.
Dad scoffs. “I’m sure you adore what my daughter can do for you. She’s a Watson, after all.”
I slam my hand down on the table with more force than I intend. Sending the utensils clattering against the surface. “Dad. Don’t be rude.”
Miles places his hand over mine, smoothing his thumb along my palm. “It’s ok. I’ll be right back with another bottle of wine.” He kisses my cheek and heads towards the kitchen.
As Miles disappears around the corner, I straighten my spine and pin my father with a glare. “Why don’t we cut to the chase and you can tell me all the ways I’ve failed to live up to the Watson name.”
I steal a glance at the dark-haired woman perched across from me, her brief appraisal finding me lacking. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Maggie. The disappointment.”
“Margaret. Bite your tongue. Katerina is my wife and you’d do well to remember that.”
Right. Of course he’d defend his wife over me. Having adaughterhas never meant shit to this man. I wasn’t even invited to the wedding; not that I would’ve attended. “No. I think I’ve done enough of that over the years, don’t you?”
“What has gotten into you? It seems the attack has knocked a few screws loose.” I suck in a ragged breath, blinking rapidly. Dad doesn’t know the extent of what happened to me — he doesn’t know I wasbrutally violated — but that still doesn’t excuse his cruelty.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Miles comes to stand beside me, his hand gently gripping on my shoulder, anger radiating off him in waves as he slams the bottle of wine down on the table. The loud crash startles me, the sound echoing through the room, but to my surprise, it doesn’t shatter.
Dad’s eyes flick between us, upper lip curling in distaste. “It’s time to come home. You have to start taking your life seriously.”
“I think you mean it’s time I start living up to your expectations and prepare to give up everything I care about to carry on your legacy.” I grip Miles’ hand, holding onto him like a lifeline.
Dad’s jaw ticks and I can tell my words are getting to him. “Semantics. Either you come home and prepare to take your rightful place as CEO, or I’ll cut you off and you can fend for yourself.”
Without a second of hesitation, I bite back. “Good. Cut me off.”
He scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. You wouldn’t last a day without your trust fund.”
