Page 79 of Beneath the Surface

“It’s a shame, you know?” His voice is low. Quiet. “Single parenting is hard. It’s so easy for kids to just... slip away.”

My heart stalls in my fucking chest, lungs compressing, terrorpouringthrough my insides at the thinly veiled threat. My nostrils flare, teeth grinding so hard I feel a molar start to crack.

He leans in closer, his breath blowing across my face. “Get in the fucking car, Alexander.”

Don’s repeated warnings scream in my head; all the times he reminded me what would happen if I continued to be so goddamn stupid.

And now I’ve put Lily and Chase on their radar.

I’ll do anything to protect them.

So for the first time in a decade, I do as I’m told, and I get in the fucking car.

37

Mason

The Hoppenstein Hotel is one of the nicest in Phoenix, and as we walk through the back entrance, making our way to the presidential suite, I scoff at the predictability. Over a decade, and still, nothing has changed.

There’s security at the entry, and my breath sticks to my lungs as Frank pushes open the door, leading me into the main sitting area. My eyes glance around, heart smacking my ribcage, as I look for signs of life. My mother. My father. Olivia. But they’re nowhere to be found.

I’m not sure what I expected, but an empty room wasn’t it.

“Your father is in the boardroom,” Frank says. “Let me check if that’s where he wants to see you.” He smiles, blinding me with his chemically whitened teeth. “Make yourself at home.”

I shake my head, walking to the couch in the center of the room and taking a seat. There’s an unlit Cuban resting on a crystal ashtray, and I take it upon myself to light it up. I sit back and enjoy the flavor on my tongue.

If I’m here in Hell, I might as well take advantage of the hospitality.

“Alexander.”

My gut twists so tight it steals my breath. His voice is just as I remember it, sending a chill down my spine. Anger brews in my stomach as I resist the natural urge to sit straighter and call him sir.

But that boy was stomped from existence the night he ripped out my heart and ground it to dust.

Fuckhim.

I’d rather die than let him know the lifelong tools he beat into me are still ingrained.

I lean back on the couch, rolling the stogie between my fingers.

He moves to stand in front of me, hands in his pockets, and I take the moment to soak him in. I’ve seen him on television, but it’s different, getting to stare at the man who shaped your nightmares up close. His hair is still dark, grayer now at the temples, and he looks as polished as ever in a pair of dress pants and a crisp white button-down.

He nods toward the Cuban. “Those were a gift.”

I puff on the cigar, letting the embers sit heavy on my tongue, before blowing it directly into his face.

He grimaces, moving to sit in the chair opposite me, his eyes trailing along the ink on my arms. Crossing his legs, his hand comes up to rub at his chin. “Ten years and you have nothing to say?”

There are a thousand things Iwantto say. A million questions I’m desperate to ask. My chest fuckingacheswith the need for answers. But I arch my brow, keeping silent. Deep down, I knew that I would end up here. I just didn’t know it would be so soon.

I puff on the cigar one more time before placing it back on the ashtray, leaning forward and blowing out a heavy breath. “We said everything we needed to say ten years ago.”

He scoffs. “Come on now, Alexander. You were a child back then.Barelyan adult. Are you still upset about that?”

Fire rages through my blood, my stomach churning in disgust. I inhale deeply to calm myself, bringing up memories of the books I read back when I was trying to rid myself of the pain from losing family.

“Never expect a narcissist to admit their wrongdoing. They’ll paint themselves as the hero or the victim, but they’ll never be the villain.”

---