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I rip myself from her hold.
“You can’t prove anything. You have nothing on me.”
“But I do have friends in high places, and it would be far too easy to turn that building into rubble. You don’t stand a chance.” Gone is the soft-spoken, elegant hostess, and in her place stands a vicious woman, ready to do whatever it takes. “Consider my offer, because it’s the only kindness you’ll get from me.” She pockets the key and switches on her hostess smile.
“Now let’s get back to the dining room! I’m sure dessert is ready to be served now.”
I wonder to myself how much James will care if I slap his mom.
James
Dad had nothing to say that I hadn’t heard before. I’m a liability the longer I put off joining the company. I’m only hurting my future prospects. The board doesn’t think I’m committed to being there (I’m not). I would tell him off if I thought it would make a difference. At this point, I’m used to hearing how I’m doing everything wrong. At some point, I’ll be pulled back, but it’s relieving to be rebellious for even a short while longer.
Today, he manages to surprise me.
“How attached are you to this girl?” It’s not at all what I’m expecting from him. Cursing, insults, maybe a threat or two. Curiosity, however, is not something I’ve come to expect from my father. I turn to him with a suspicious scowl. It’s obvious that I take after my father when his face twists into a sneer to rival my own.
I guess we’re dropping the mask of politeness.
“Before you speak, remember your place,son.It’s high time you fell in line.” Father reaches for the envelope next to him. He slides it across the table to me, tapping it. “You don’t know your little plaything as well as you think.” He leans back, folding his arms across his broad chest.
“You don’t know a damn thing about her.” I grit through my teeth. The curl of his lip makes my skin crawl.
“Oh, but I do.” He nods to the envelope.
I hate this. I hate feeling so powerless, so useless. Whenever I’m in this house, all I can think of are ways to get out, ways to leave.
Every visit is a game to them. At least this time I can see all the cards.
I excuse myself to use the washroom for a bit, just to get away from him. As I walk down the hallway, I can hear mother and Stella speaking.
“You somehow have my son under your grimy little spell, so I’ll tell you what. We will pay off your outstanding debt.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re going to convince him to quit his insipid little band.”
“I would never—”
“And then you’re going to leave him. He is about to become a much more influential person, and he doesn’t need some child hanging around waiting for a handout.”
I’m vibrating with rage as I try to keep myself from storming in there. Why did I ever think this would be a nice, normal family Christmas? Also, why the fuck does my mother think that I’m so naïve that I would follow any hot girl around?
I should have known this would happen. I knew there had to be a reason that my parents invited her over today. I think back to Stella’s words, how she hoped it would be a genuine interest,wanting to be closer to me, but it was too good to be true. They’re trying to use her to get me back under their thumb, getting her to help them manipulate me.
That’s not the kind of person Stella is. I know that deep in my bones.
But what if they get to her? They had a P.I. follow her, they’re threatening her. There must be something in this envelope they think will get her to cave. What could it possibly be? This sweet, innocent, bratty, selfless woman isn’t someone who even has a closet to put a skeleton into.
I walk back into the dining room, knowing that intervening now won’t help anyone. I’ve learned by now that muscling through it and keeping your mouth shut is the better option when they get like this. My dad is still scrolling through some article on his phone, pointedly ignoring me. My anger is seeping from my pores and I’m glad I won’t have to speak with him.
When Mother and Stella stroll back into the room with Mother’s arm wrapped around Stella’s shoulders, Mother looks far too pleased with herself. The smug smile that she can’t seem to keep off her face is reflected in the tight grip that she has on Stella’s arm until they retake their seats.
“We’re ready for dessert!” Mother announces, as though we’re all one big happy family.
Stella, on the other hand, looks to be contemplating the ramifications of assault and battery.I can’t blame her after the threats my mother issued.Her knuckles are white, wrapped tightly around the butter knife in her hand from her place setting that has yet to be cleared. Maybe she’s nervous? I risk a glance up at her.
Nope. She is definitely imagining stabbing someone right now.It’s kind of hot. Her eyes are screaming murder, and I kind of want to fuck the anger out of her.
