Page 7 of Pretty Little Threats

Dad’s answering grin is one he doesn’t use often, and itwarms my chest to have one gifted to me. “Rosalynn, you look so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Any lingering worries Dare instilled disappear in my father’s presence. Dad has always been my safe place.

“How was your day? Did you work from home?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say quickly. “My day was good. Busy, but I’m happy to have some time with you.”

“Me too, Rosie. Do you have anything fun planned for the weekend?”

I pull a face. “Fun? What is this thing you speak of?”

He chuckles. “I thought you and Cassia might be doing something.”

“She’s busy with dates and world domination.”

“Ah, no rest for the wicked, eh?” He studies me. “Have you been dating?”

“Um.” I wrinkle my face. My dating life isn’t a subject we discuss. “I haven’t really had time.” Work is my life, and after the last few dating disasters, what little time I have off is spent on my couch, drawing, or hanging out with Cassia.

“You can take a night off for yourself every once in a while.”

Yeah, and fall behind? No thanks.“I know.”

His phone chirps and he glances down, tapping out a message, then locks it. “Sorry, work never stops.”

I know that more than anyone. When I was younger, I used to hate that he’d spend so much time on his computer or phone, but then I got involved, and it felt good to be part of something so big. Plus, working together has made us closer than ever.

I wave away his apology. “I get it. Is everything okay?”

Dad studies me, then releases a breath. “Nothing that can’t wait until Monday. Tonight is important.” Not only isit a charity gala, but it’s also a way to build connections, and Dad always takes advantage of any opportunity to strengthen his network.

“Who are you talking to tonight?” I ask.

“The Astors.”

Darius and Elaine Astor are the heads of Rex Technologies, and we often collaborate with them to develop apps for our various financial ventures. It’s critical for them to know they’re important to us.

“And you’ll make the perfect dinner companion for Mrs. Elhart,” Dad says.

Mrs. Elhart? She has an opinion on everything and isn’t afraid to throw a few insults into our conversations. She’s particularly vocal about my size. I would say you can’t blame her, because she’s elderly and that’s just how things were back then, but that’s bullshit. She’s an asshole.

“Can’t someone else do it? She smells like a funeral home and...” I trail off when he scowls at me. Right. This is one of thosefall in linemoments.

“You’ll eat dinner with her and keep her company. She might be old, but her holdings in the Money Works Investment Group are important to me.” He pauses. “To us.” I hear the unspoken reminder.

Everything I do is for you, Rosalynn.

The dinner won’t be that long, and sitting with Mrs. Elhart can’t be any worse than sitting at a table full of men discussing business. That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

He grunts. “You remind me of your mother when you talk like that.”

His words aren’t a compliment. What he means is, I remind him of my mother when I have an opinion of myown. I rub my chest and chew on my cheek, staring out the window and trying to swallow my hurt.

Mom died when I was six. It’s been nineteen years since we lost her, and each year that passes dulls the pain a little more, but his disapproval of our likeness cuts deep. I cherish the few memories I have. Gentle smiles. Warm hugs. Confident and beautiful. I’ve always wanted to be like Mom, my way of feeling close to her, but Dad makes it seem like a bad thing.

---