Page 30 of Ruse
Austin’s dressed in his usual laid back business attire, khaki dress pants and a short sleeve linen polo in some god-awful shade of pale orangey pink. His blond hair is impeccably styled and gelled to one side, not a single hair out of place, but it’s the crow’s feet around his outer eyes and the frown lines along his forehead and around his mouth, which shine the truth about his almost fifty years of age, despite the hideously bronzed tan he got back in Miami Beach, where they traveled for business after their honeymoon in Paris.
“Early yes, but certainly not uncalled for,” I stammer curtly, setting the glass down, and turning to walk away. I’m still dressed in last night's clothes - clothes I know he saw me wearing when I walked out last night as they’d just arrived.
“Wait,” he calls out, and I can’t help the upward twitch of my lips forming a faint smile at how incredibly easy this is going to be. I stop in my tracks, turning my head back to face him.
“Yes?” I mutter questioningly.
“Come into my office, there is something I wanted to speak with you about.” He doesn’t wait for my response, instead turning and heading back into his study assuming I’ll follow suit. I do but for an entirely different reason. This is exactly what I was hoping would happen. “Have a seat,” he says as he rounds his desk and sits on the brown leather chair behind his wooden oak desk.
The space, which I’d never stepped foot in before, differs greatly from the rest of the house. The walls are an off-white almost cream color, bare of any decor other than frames of the men of the Bancroft Dynasty from previous generations, the furniture a darker more natural wood than the rest of the house, not to mention it reeks of cigars and single malt scotch, among other things. Kind of like walking into a room full of wealthy English aristocrats during the 1920s.
I obey, sitting on one of the two matching leather armchairs opposite of him, leaning back and pulling a cigarette out of my pocket. “You don’t mind, do you?” I ask, and the distaste that crosses his face proves he does but won’t say a damn thing.
“Of course not,” he responds, hiding his true feelings on the matter. Instead, he leans back, arms folded across his chest and watches me light the cigarette and blow a cloud of smoke up into the air toward the ceiling. “Maverick,” he starts, unsure of how to continue whatever it is he’s planning on telling me. “I know we haven’t started off on the best of terms.”
“You mean because you fucked my mom and ruined my parents’ marriage?” I make sure to leave out the part about him being involved in shipping me out of my house and off to boarding school at the age of ten. I’m certain he has no idea, but I know he’s responsible for that, and I’m planning to keep it that way until I find it necessary to come to light.
The shock written all over his face is all the evidence I need to show he was not expecting that response from me. Sad to say all his hard work of sending me to a reform school was wasted. If anything, it only taught me the discipline I need to ensure my revenge scheme goes down without a hitch.
“Your mother and I…”
“Cut the bullshit Austin, may I call you Austin?” I interrupt him, but don’t wait for him to respond. “I don’t care what you and Daphne decide to do with the rest of your lives. Frankly, I stopped caring about what happened to my family long before you entered the picture. So do us both a favor and stop pretending to care one bit about this conversation.”
“Look son,” he says, standing abruptly and slamming his hands down on the desk before him. He must realize he let his anger and frustration show, quickly reeling it in, lowering his shoulders, and leaning forward, glaring at me with an impassive expression.
I stand to meet his daunting stare with one of my own. I’m much taller than him, and given his long and lean physique, much stronger too. I may only be eighteen, but this man knows I’ll tear his pretty little face in two if provoked. However, he tries to keep his composure.
“Don’t call me son, Austin. You already have one of those, and I’m not interested in having another daddy. One absent father is enough.”
“You’re right, an absent father who you may have not noticed, left you in my care. That means you are in my house, you follow my rules, or you’re out.” He rounds his desk once more and comes to lean on the desk right in front of me. “You may not think I’m capable of that, but you are no longer a minor, therefore no longer your mother’s responsibility. If I’ve allowed you to move into my house with my children, it’s because she asked it of me. Don’t confuse your being here with anything more than a pity favor to her. Trust me the moment I say you’re out, she won’t hesitate to oblige.”
A heavy laugh leaves me at the absurdity of him thinking he’s calling the shots around here. That’s my fault, the poor fool has no clue what’s in store, and suddenly I’m not in a hurry to enlighten him.
Though maybe it will be more rewarding to hit him when he least expects it. I’ll let him continue to think he has any say in what happens around here, and when the time comes, I will burn down everything he’s built and claim it as my own.
Taking a step forward and invading his space, I press a finger into his chest, watching him slightly cower down at my advance. It’s a subtle movement but I recognize the motion. “You must be confusing me with someone who gives a shit what you think. Don’t fool yourself old man, you may think you’re in charge here, but you have no fucking clue what I know.”
He huffs, puffing out his chest, smoke practically coming out of his nostrils at how angry he is. “What the hell does that mean?”
Shaking my head and laughing. I relax my shoulders and take a step back. “Nothing you need to worry yourself with right now. You’ll know when I want you to know. For now, I’d walk around looking over my shoulder Bancroft. You’re a man with many secrets, one who should always sleep with one eye open. You never know when they’ll come to light.”
I can see the unease wash over him, hundreds of things going through his mind all at the same time. I know the possibilities of what it is I’m referring to are endless. A man like him has so much to hide, and so much at risk. Austin masks his undying fear with a false sense of confidence that is so flimsy, it doesn’t withstand the weight of my glower. “Are you threatening me, boy?”
I raise my hands in surrender, “Just making you aware of the dangers a man of your power status risks. Don’t push me Bancroft, you won’t like it when I finally push back.” The threat slips out of my lips so easily, like second nature. I guess I’m more like my father than I had expected to be. This is exactly what he does to any rival or enemy who crosses his path. If he gave me the time of day, I know he’d be proud.
“You’re making a terrible mistake creating an enemy out of me Maverick. I could make your stay here very easy, or I can make it like nothing you’ve ever experienced.”
This is turning out to be more amusing than planned, watching Bancroft appear confident of himself, yet simultaneously his insecurities wreak havoc in his mind. He’s terrified but isn’t willing to show his cards. Well, neither am I.
“Do what you need to Austin, I’ll be doing the same. Do tell Phoenix I’ll see her at school, I wouldn’t want to wake her myself. I have an inkling she had a pretty long night.” I add a wink for good measure in case he didn’t catch the sarcasm dripping from my lips. But his seething glare tells me he knows exactly what I was going for with that comment.
Austin steps forward, his chest now pressed against mine, “Stay the hell away from my daughter Carter. Daphne's son or not, I won’t hesitate if you so much as lay a finger on her.”
I pat the fucker on his shoulder, not once giving my true feelings away. “Pleasant talk, Austin. I look forward to more of these bonding sessions in the future.”
ChapterEleven
PHOENIX
