Page 4 of The Quiet After The Fall

He passed the platter to my father, and he took his share before answering. “I’ve been in talks with a man named Vince Moretti. We’re moving forward with a partnership.”

Owen and I both looked up—me, from scooping a helping of mashed potatoes onto my plate.

“Moretti?” Owen asked. “Why have I heard that name?”

My father cut into his chicken before answering. “He runs a development holding company out of the city. He’s got political connections. Union relationships that would take us a decade to build on our own.” He set his knife down. “You’ve probably heard the name because he’s a big shot. Everyone who’s anyone knows Moretti.”

Owen accepted that with a small nod, reaching for his wine.

But I’d heard the name for different reasons. None of them good. Moretti was a name that got mentioned in whispered conversations around Ashford, and then dropped just as fast, like if you held his name in your throat too long, you’d choke.

I turned my fork over in my hand, waiting for my father to go on.

“Working with him means we get access to contracts we’ve been locked out of for years. City projects. Infrastructure. Jobs that’ll put this company back where it belongs.” He reached for his wine. “Exactly what we need to rebuild our reputation.”

“And what does he get from us?” I asked, cutting through the crap.

My father’s eyes moved to me, a hard expression on his face. Unsurprised that I was the one asking, probably. “Equity. And a personal connection between our families.”

The table went quiet while they all focused on their food.

But I mulled his answer over, something about it not sitting right. “What kind of personal connection?”

My father set his fork down and folded his hands on the table. Good, maybe he’ll finally get to the fucking point. “He has a daughter. Ella. Twenty-two, finishing up school this year. Her father wants to see her with someone he can trust. Someone from a family he’s doing business with.” He paused. “Someone who can make her feel taken care of.”

The word someone sat in the middle of the table like a grenade with the pin already pulled.

Owen put his fork down slowly. “You’re asking one of us to date her?”

“I’m asking one of you to be available to her. To spend time with her. Make a good impression.” My father’s tone stayed even, almost reasonable, which had been a red flag for a while now. “Moretti is offering us something we can’t get anywhere else. The least we can do is show him we’re serious about this relationship.”

Owen looked at me. I looked at my mother. She was poking at her food, using it as a distraction. Not that I thought she’d speak up for her sons. She’s too intimidated by my father.

“Which one of us?” Owen asked.

My father looked at him with a brow raised. “You.”

Owen’s jaw tightened. It was the first real crack in all that ease, but he knew to keep it controlled when it came to our father. Owen never really did lose his temper. He left that for me to do.

“I can’t do that.”

My father’s expression didn’t change. “Owen. This isn’t a negotiation.”

“I’m serious.” He pushed his plate forward. “I’m with Sawyer. You know that. I’m not going to⁠—”

“I don’t give a damn about the Thorne girl,” my father interrupted. “This isn’t about her.”

“It is, though.” Owen kept his voice level, speaking in a tone that made everyone agree that he knew what he was talking about, that he was easygoing, and reasonable. It always worked in his favor. “I love her, Dad. I’m not going to date some other girl.”

“No one is asking you to fall in love with her.” My father’s voice dropped half a register. “I’m asking you to have dinner with her. To be present. To make Moretti believe this family values what he’s offering.”

“Then find another way to make him believe it.” Owen picked his fork back up, which somehow pissed me off. How calm he was. The finality in his action. In his eyes, the conversation was over. “I won’t do it. I’m sorry.”

Silence stretched across the table.

My father turned his head and looked at me.

He didn’t have to say a word. The shift of his gaze from one son to the other, and the silence that came with it told me everything I needed to know.