Page 279 of Power Play

“You dress control up like concern, toss in a few words about her future, make me the threat, then stand back and pretend you’re just a father protecting his little girl.” I stepped closer, slow enough that it couldn’t be mistaken for losing control. “That might work on people who need your money or your approval. I don’t need either.”

“No,” he said, his voice cooling. “But Charm does.”

That one landed exactly where he meant it to. Not in me. In her.

The room went still, and Lance watched my face like he wanted to see the moment I understood the game. He wasn’t trying to scare me off. He was telling me he didn’t have to. Charm was the leash. Her school. Her comfort. Her family. Her fear of disappointing people who had spent her whole life teaching her that love came with conditions and obedience kept the peace.

I smiled at him, and this time I let the ugly show.

“You’re not a protective father,” I said. “You’re a coward with leverage.”

His glass hit the desk a little too hard.

“Pinche madre. Finally.” I gave a bitter laugh.

“Watch yourself,” he said.

I moved closer, stopping on the other side of his desk. “You don’t scare me, Lance. I broke you faster than your country-club buddies would sneer at you for. You crave control, and you’re powerful when you have it. But you forget some men will never heel.”

“You should consider whether I can make life difficult.”

“For me?” I asked. “Get in line.”

“For her.”

The answer came fast enough to tell me he’d been waiting to use it.

My hands flexed at my sides. I let him see that too. Let him see the leash on me wasn’t fear. It was choice. It was Charm. It was the fact that I’d promised myself I wouldn’t make her regret bringing me here by giving her father the scene he wanted.

“You don’t get to use my love for her as a weapon,” I said.

“I’m asking you to consider what loving her actually requires.”

“No, you’re asking me to leave so she doesn’t have to choose.” My voice dropped lower. “You’re asking me to hurt her for you and call it noble so she won’t resent you.”

His mouth flattened.

I leaned in, hands braced on the edge of his desk now, close enough that he had to look up to hold my stare. “Listen to me carefully. I’m not some boy you can shame out of your house. I’m not the foster kid at your table hoping the rich family lets him stay for dessert. I know exactly what I am. I know what I’ve survived. I know what I’ve earned. And I know your daughter doesn’t look at me like I’m beneath her until someone in this house reminds her she’s supposed to.”

Lance’s eyes flashed. “Charm is young.”

“Charm is grown.”

“She’s impressionable.”

“She’s trapped,” I snapped, then pulled myself back before my voice carried beyond the door. “And you like her that way because scared daughters are easier to control than brave ones.”

The study door opened before Lance could answer.

Charm stood in the doorway.

Her face was pale. Her hand gripped the brass knob, and her eyes moved from me to her father, wide and wet and furious in a way I’d never seen on her.

For one second, nobody spoke.

Then Lance straightened like he hadn’t just been carved open in his own study. “Charm, sweetheart, this is a private conversation.”

“No,” she said, but the word shook. “It’s about me, so it isn’t.”