Page 22 of Monster's Edge

What the fuck?

I look up sharply at my dad. Why would he care if Ian likes the hotel? Then again, maybe there’s more to their relationship than the two of them being business partners. My father has never cared about what another person thought. He certainly hasn’t cared what anothermanthought. My dad has very strict standards when it comes to dealing with other people. He keeps them at arm’s length, always. He really doesn’t want them to have any sort of say in what he does.

People are meant to be used as pawns in my father’s lifelong game of chess. He doesn’t have much use for people beyond what they can provide to him financially or socially. A question like this, however, lets me know – albeit discreetly – that my father is somehow indebted to Ian.

Ian doesn’t miss the slip-up, and he shoots me a quick, fast smile. It’s so hasty, in fact, that my father misses it completely. How the hell did he not see Ian grinning at me? My dad is staring at Patricia, though. He’s nervous about something and I don’t really understand what it is that’s bothering him so very much.

“It’s amenable,” Ian finally says. He, too, looks at Patricia. She stands up a little straighter. Her neck seems to stretch out like a giraffe, albeit a beautiful one. I don’t know if there’s such a thing as an ugly giraffe.

Her relationship with my father isn’t exactly platonic, I don’t think. I’m not entirely sure what the two of them get up to when they’re alone, but I’m an adult. I can guess. My father wouldn’t keep a woman around unless there was some sort of reason. He’s getting something from her presence. It might just be sex. It might just be her company. There’s something, though.

“Patricia, you look lovely tonight,” Ian says. His words are smooth as silk. I’m reminded of the words he spoke to me less than an hour ago. The things Ian said to me were very different than the things he’s saying now. He wanted me on my knees. He told me. He wanted me begging. He told me that, too. There were so many weird, wonderful, ridiculously horrifying things that Ian said to me that it’s going to take me a lifetime to unpack all of it.

Did he force me into sex?

Basically.

Only, I wouldn’t have said no. If he’d approached me here, especially after a drink or two, I don’t think I would have said no to him. So, is it so bad, really? I’m trying to wrap my head around what happened to me. I’m trying to find ways to justify it. I’m failing, of course, but I’m trying, anyway.

Patricia doesn’t say anything to Ian at first. She needs to saysomething,or it’ll be seen by everyone as a snub. Ian raises an eyebrow, and I start to panic inwardly. If she doesn’t want to make a scene, she needs to say something.

Anything.

Come on, I silently urge her.

Only, we’re all saved from having to speak because there’s a huge commotion over at the entrance to the ballroom. This particular room of the hotel is the one where the party is happening. Even though my dad has booked the entire space, this is the room most people are in. It’s also the room my father is in, so it’s the place I wouldleastexpect there to be some sort of altercation.

Ian and my father spring into action at the same time. The two of them head directly toward the doors to see what’s going on while Patricia and I hang back. I glance over at her. Patricia’s lips are pressed together tightly, but she looks irritated – not surprised.

“Who is it?” I ask her. She seems to know. At the very least, I bet she has an idea. Only, Patricia just shrugs. Why is she shrugging? She’s my father’s...well, I’m not really sure what she is, exactly. Looking back over, my dad and Ian are both barking orders at their men. A couple of girls rush by us. I grab one by the arm. “What happened?” I ask a young blonde. She looks like she’s ten years younger than me. Is she even old enough to be here? She looks like she’s still in high school.

“Anthony,” she says.

“Anthony who?”

“Barone,” Patricia says. Oh, so now she feels talkative. Looking over at her, I loosen my grip on the woman I grabbed and she uses that moment to slip away. Shit. So much for having some sort of informant on my side. Damn.

“You know Anthony Barone?” I ask her. “How do you know that? And why is he here?”

She sighs. “He’s looking for me, I suppose. He’s my husband, after all.”

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