Page 8 of Love Her

“There you are,” Rio said quietly, coming up to me from behind, like he was sneaking in along with me, his expression sharp. I let loose a tiny yelp, while he glowered. “Your father’s looking for you.”

“Well, here I am,” I said, flashing him a forced grin.

He wasn’t amused. “Come on,” he muttered, already steering me back the way I’d come.

I was worried if we retraced my steps far enough we’d find Rhaim, but instead we detoured to the back of the kitchen, where my father was standing with the help of a cane that he never used in public.

“You rang?” I asked him lightly, hoping my moment with Rhaim wasn’t written on my face.

He looked displeased, and for a second I thought he’d somehow read my mind, but then his expression softened in a way that was rare for him. “You’re stunning, Lia,” he said quietly. His voice lacked the sharpness I’d expected, which somehow made me feel more wary.

“Thank…you?” I wondered with a concerned laugh. “You didn’t pull me out of the party just to tell me that, did you?”

He chuckled, sounding tired. “No, I didn’t. But it’s true.” He gestured toward a chair, but I didn’t dare sit down. If I did, Lord only knew what’d stain mypretty dresswhen I next stood.

My reluctance to obey made him sigh. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your future.”

“Mine?” I asked cautiously, crossing my arms. “Or Corvo’s?”

“Both,” he admitted. “You’ve done so well. You’ve stepped into this world effortlessly—better than I ever imagined.”

A cold pit formed in my stomach, and I sobered up at once. “What’s this about?”

He stepped up to me and set his cane’s head into the crook of his arm, while he pulled the edges of my green silk bolero jacket closer, as though it were the lapels of a suit.

Like I wasn’t just his daughter.

Like I was a made man.

“I’ve got some surprises coming for you tonight, is all.”

A younger Lia might have believed her indulgent father was giving her a gift. But the Lia of the now knew it was a test.

“I’ll need for you to take them in stride,” my father went on, his tone calm but commanding. “Remember, family does what family’s told.”

A spark of defiance rose in my chest—the instinct to push back, to fight him. It’s what I’d always done—and it’s exactly why he still saw me as a child.

Whatever he had planned, I wouldn’t fight him this time.

I’d outsmart him.

“Of course,” I agreed.

His eyes narrowed warily, but then his lips quirked into a teasing grin. “Except when it comes to sitting down on offered chairs?”

I gave him a pained smile. “In these heels, if I sit down, I’ll never want to get back up.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” he said, setting his cane aside, and offering me a gallant elbow.

I took it, and let him slowly lead me into the next room.

The party had overtakenmy father’s formal dining room entirely, spilling into the rest of the penthouse’s sprawling openfloor plan. Voices echoed off marble and glass, a symphony of laughter and clinking glasses underscored by a low hum of wealth.

People parted as they saw us coming, their eyes flicking between me and my father, reading the power dynamics as if we were pieces on a chessboard. Rio stood stationed near the stairwell, alert and unobtrusive, while I spotted Rhaim on the other side of the room, half-hidden in a knot of suits.

Freddie Jr. was harder to miss.

He was planted near a column, leaning casually with a drink in his hand, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass.

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