Crue follows instructions without delay.
“Leave us,” my father demands, and the next sounds are from Ryan’s foam shoes as he exits the kitchen as well.
The moment we’re alone, he reaches over and pinches the side of my hip. I try to squirm away but he just presses his fingers together harder until I whimper.
“Tell me something,” he says after releasing my skin. “When you’re married, do you think your husband will enjoy you interrupting him?”
I put a shaky finger up to my chin, pretending to think about it before settling on a sarcastic yet honest, “Since I haven’t met him yet, I have no idea what he’ll enjoy.”
Another pinch in the exact same spot makes my skin scream and my blood simmer—in agony, in anger, in desperation to get the hell out of here.
Satisfied when a lone tear rolls down my cheek, Father releases me.
Damn it. I didn’t want to cry this early in the morning, especially not because ofhim.
“That was rhetorical. No man wants a wife who talks over him. Your mother knew her place and—”
“Knowing one’s place and liking one’s place are two different things. My mother may have known her place but—”
“Never,” my father warns. Unfortunately for him, five months ago I decided I’d rather endure thousands of his pinches than bite my tongue one more time. He’s better off making good on his promise to sew my lips shut because hurting me where nobody’s going to see the evidence hasn’t stopped me from talking back. I’m already compliant in his demands. If he wants me quiet as well, he’s going to have to cut out my fucking tongue.
“She wasn’t happy in it because happy people don’t throw themselves off the back of a yacht in the middle of the night!”
His fists slam down onto the table, making both his utensils and my shoulders jump.
“You were young,” he says way too calmly. “You don’t remember that night accurately. Your mother had too much to drink aboard theBurning Rudder, slipped, and accidently fell into shark-infested waters.”
“Shark-infested? That’s their habitat.”
He pins me with a glare for so long I think he’s going to escalate to something worse than a pinch.
My body instinctively shrinks back in my chair.
“Regardless, it was a tragic accident,” is all he says.
I wasn’t too young. I know exactly what happened and it was no accident. My mother was miserable for as long as I can remember, nearly catatonic the year leading up to her death. If she really did slip off our yacht, she did so intentionally.
And honestly, I don’t blame her.
“Too bad you didn’t hire a bodyguard to watchherevery move.”
“Mmm,” my father agrees as he sips from his coffee. “Which reminds me… You’ve been going around, starting a rumor that I have a stalker to explain your executive protection agent.”
“People are taking an interest in my new twenty-four-hour shadow.” Some of them too much interest. “Would you prefer I tell them the truth about my bodyguard?”
We have ourselves another stare-off.
“Do you know what our annual revenue was last year?”
I slowly shake my head. What does that have to do with anything?
“Five billion one hundred thirty-six million.”
“Congratulations?” Like, why is he telling me this right now?
“The year before that, our annual revenue was six billion nine hundred seventy-five million. And this year, we’re on track to take an even bigger hit.”
“Yikes,” I deadpan. “Maybe we should make some cuts of our own. Reduce some costs around here. I can think of two salaries that can go right now.”