Austin’s been gone two days, six hours, and just enough minutes to make me want to fuck him senseless the second he comes through the door. So, when a few loud knocks sound at my front door, I positively skip through the house to answer it.
After his last text, I decided to swing home early, eager for whatever surprise he promised me after work. Which will only add to my own news. With my win on Long Multinational vs. Long Dong Silvers, Austin had better break out the Red Bull and get ready to celebrate all night long.
But when two more knocks hit the door, it’s clear the man must have seen me arrive, and I give the heavy custom door a good swing out. And nearly knock over the man on the other side.
He’s in his favorite gray three-piece suit, which is a ridiculous choice for the 102-degree heat of Dallas. Not a bead of sweat is evident on his smooth forehead, so the arrogant son of a bitch is obviously Botoxed to the max.
“Daddy?”
Without cracking his face with a smile, he greets me with barely a hug. “Evelyn. Are you going to let me into this hovel you’ve been shacking up in, or shall we grab beers, stand out here, and scratch our private parts while we gossip about the pound puppies you call neighbors?”
My practiced giggle bubbles up on cue. “You tell me. I’m good with both.”
His brows flatten, coordinating perfectly with his unfazed glance and tight lips. “I’m sure you are.”
He brushes past me, his gait stiff and commanding, as out of place as the suit that’s totally wasted on me. I shut the door and offer him a seat on the sofa, which he astutely scans, likely skeptical of food remnants or bodily fluids.
Patient, I roll my eyes, waiting for him to eventually sit. He doesn’t.
“So, Daddy, what brings you to the slums?”
“You, Evelyn.” The disapproval in his voice echoes through the room as loudly as it did when I was accepted to law school.
Banks women were not bred to think. They were bred to keep their mouths shut until such time as they were asked a question, about to eat, or prepared to suckle on the two-inch cocks of their husbands.
“I would’ve dropped by the house,” I said, wringing my hands. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”
“I came all the way out here to free you of your trailer life and take you back to the loving arms of Dimitri. He is, after all, your fiancé.”
“I hate to belabor the point, but actually, he’s not.”
Taking an interest in the window, he walks over to it, not bothering to look at me when he says, “Don’t worry, my dear. Dimitri won’t hold a grudge. He’ll take you back.”
“Take me back?”
My voice is definitely loud for the cozy space. The disapproval that flashes across his face as he turns to face me again shuts me up, avoiding my slippery slope toward a good old-fashioned tantrum more appropriate for a three-year-old. So I dial it down a notch.
“He’d be lucky if I took him back. And, by the way, I’d sooner use a sandblaster to wax my vagina.”
My deliberate crassness results in a predictable shrug by a man who has never used a swear word a day in his life.
“You always did have a mouth on you, Evelyn. You should thank your lucky stars that a distinguished mogul like Dimitri Antonov wants anything to do with you. You’d better marry him before he finds a younger, brighter, and slightly prettier model.”
“Oh, Daddy. You always were the charmer.” Asshole. “I’m not going back to Dimitri. Get used to it.”
“Then you’d better get used to being completely cut off.”
He studies me, gauging the impact of his warning. I’ve heard his tired threats all my life, so this one is barely a blip on my pucker-factor scale. But it’s never been more worthless than in this moment.
If my father saw my portfolio, he’d shit a brick. It was easy putting my money behind one of my best friend’s companies, Black Technologies. It’s done quite well, like getting in on Apple when it was a penny stock. But nobody knows. Because like the great Davis Richard Black himself, I’m taking his lead, throwing caution to the wind and banking on something, the one thing that will always win out over hundreds of millions of dollars.
My heart.
Sticking with my decision will be like an ice pick through my father’s wallet. Eager for a small slice of payback, I hit him where I know it’s going to hurt. Sting him just a little for all the pain he’s leveled on me.
“I’m not marrying Dimitri,” I say, trying to sound a little less elated and a little more determined. “I’d rather be in love and happy than wealthy and miserable.”
Without batting an eye, he says, “You think you’re in love? How very interesting, Evelyn, since the last I heard you had a fiancé.”
I force back the stammer waiting to happen. The weakness my father likes to home in on, wrap around, and twist until I’m suffocating.
Deep breath in. Long breath out. I do it twice more, taking my time while his narrowed eyes scan me.
I fight to get my voice heard, which comes out like a whisper. “Even if I didn’t love someone else, I couldn’t love Dimitri.”
I want to tell Daddy about the other women. As if he’d care. And the mind games. The cameras. But I don’t. What would be the point?
Losing interest in me, my father looks out the window again. “But there is someone else, isn’t there, Evelyn? Maybe someone close. Maybe someone in this very trailer park. Even on this very street.”
The silence between us draws out while he watches me drown in his omniscience. Whether he’s having me followed or Dimitri is, my father knows about Austin. And by extension, Dimitri knows. Good.
Taking an interest in the thick draperies, my father skims a long, crooked finger along the regal fringe on the curtains, landing at the sash. The one I just retied.
And now I get it. Just how sick the son of a bitch is, but I say nothing. I want him out of my fucking house, but I say nothing. I’m ready to slap the smugness right off his calculating face, but I don’t.
I. Say. Nothing.
Because if I move at all, I’ll crumble in front of a man who always manages to make me cry. And I am not crying.
“I’ll bet you think it’s love, Evelyn. You’ve always been that sweet dreamer of a naive girl. Like love is the answer. Love will fix anything.” Turning, he faces the window again. “Look there, Evelyn. The man across the street is home. Is that him? The one you love?”
I stiffen, trying to stop my body from trembling with rage. “You obviously know it is. How you know that, and all the other things you’ve managed to know for your perverse pleasure is beyond me, but you can’t teach an old dog to stop being a sick fuck.”
A disgusting smile takes over his face before he waves me over. “Come, Evelyn. Come take a look at your Prince Charming.”
My gut falls as I bolt to the window. “If you’ve hurt him—”
“Why on earth would I do that, when you’ll probably save me the effort.”
Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean is beyond me, but it doesn’t matter. Austin is back, getting out of his car with a big smile on his face.
Even from here and with his sunglasses on, I know the steel-blue eyes behind them are warm and inviting. I allow myself a nervous second to scan up and down the street. Whatever it is my father wants me to see, I doubt this is it.
Austin’s hair looks freshly trimmed, and maybe a bit sun-kissed during his short time away. With his T-shirt loose and easygoing, and jeans that must be ecstatic to be clinging to this man’s glorious ass, I soak him in for half a second before running to the door, ignoring my father’s demand.
“Evelyn, wait.”
I’m two steps out the door before I feel his grip on my arm, dragging me back into the house. Glaring at him, I bite out, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
With me inside and the door still cracked, the hard lines of my father’s face soften. His voice is decidedly lower. “Don’t make a scene. Just look.”
Stunned, I can’t believe my eyes. Won’t believe my eyes.
When Austin grabs a pale pink suitcase from the trunk, I’m confused. And then I’m crushed. He rushes to the other side of the car and opens the door. Which is when the man of her dreams offers his hand, helping a tall, thin female with endless legs and a cascade of overflowing curls exit the car. Like a fucking gentleman.
“Hate me all you want, Evelyn. I know about the dirty little deeds the two of you have been up to, because he’s been trying to shop them around to the highest bidder.”
Horrified, I can’t breathe, and the only way I know my heart hasn’t stopped is because its deafening thumps fill my ears. I don’t believe it, but I can’t speak. I’m stuck there, listening, as my father rambles on.
“Banks Media is always hot on the trail of a story, but I quashed this one. It cost a pretty penny too.”
My father reaches out, and I wince at his hand stroking my head, unsettled by his drawn-out touch. But I don’t cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction of it. Even if bawling by myself in a corner and letting it all out is exactly what I want to do.
I watch as Austin shuts the door, grabbing her suitcase before swinging his strong arm around her shoulders. It’s a dagger to my heart when he pulls her in for a tender kiss on her head. The kind that no doubt will make her weak in the knees and believe every goddamn lie that escapes that bastard’s lips.
Too embarrassed to see how this shitshow plays out, I breathe deeply, close the door, and turn to head toward my bedroom.
“Where are you going?” my father says with the last remaining modicum of concern he has for me.
“To pack. Fine, you’ve won. You were right.”
“Dimitri will be delighted.”
“I’m not going to Dimitri’s,” I say, storming away, but my father stays glued to my shoes like an unwanted square of toilet paper. “I’m going to the Mansion. I’m getting pampered and wasted, and engaging in enough debauchery as penthouse living can afford.”
“Oh,” he says in that disapproving tone that, unfortunately, means something.
“Oh, what?”
Undeterred, I drag a suitcase from the closet and flop it on the bed, and start tossing random dresses and underwear, shirts and jeans, and a bra or two, because in the moment, actually thinking this through is the last damn thing on my mind. My black card works just fine, so I’m not even sure why I’m bringing anything at all.
“You’re heading to Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek? Alan is there.”
“Well, that’s just perfect. Must be the posh setting for his house arrest. Not that I don’t enjoy quality time with my brother, but I’m just wondering how many hookers I’ll have to dance around to fix myself a drink.”
Stone-faced, my father says, “Six was my last count.”
I dart him a glare before I realize the man’s not joking.
Briefly, I consider a flight to Cancun, then remember my last trip there landed me with a sunburned ass that was the worst thing ever when you’re also glued to the toilet due to diarrhea.
Instead, I stand firm. “The suite is massive. He and his hired help will stay on his side, and I’ll stay on mine.”
“Dimitri would love to see you. Don’t lose him, Evelyn. He’s the one decision you could actually get right.”
Weighing my options, I realize my decision isn’t exactly solid.
“I’ll think it over,” I say, wavering. “But I’m still taking my chances with Alan for the moment. He might have harem sex right in front of me, but at least he won’t mess with my head. Besides, I’ve always been my brother’s keeper. Right, Daddy?”
The daggers I hurl at him are as lost as my words. He’s already out the door. Using me is only the second skill set of his. Ignoring me has always placed first.