Page 136

The distant music dulls and laughter disappears as he closes the door behind us. In this hallowed hall of masculinity, I take my place in front of the hearth. The carpet and a silence stretch out between us.

My father examines me, playing his usual power game: First to speak loses.

In private, I pretty much always lose.

“Well?” My hands lift and fall.

“What do you think you are doing?” He doesn’t shout. In some ways, I think that would be easier.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You’re too old to play games, Clara. I told you I did not want that boy in my house.”

“That boy has a name. And you said you didn’t want him here, not that I couldn’t bring him.” I know, I know. The attitude isn’t going to help.

“I suppose you think that’s entertaining.”

“I just thought—”

“That must be novel for you. A thought. The truth is, you never think. Not beyond the moment you’re standing in.”

The usual bullshit. Only tonight, it hurts more because it’s not just me he wants to bring down. The irony is, Troy is worth ten of those assholes here with their parents tonight, flattering and kowtowing to the great Edwin Forbes. Those supposed nice boys from good families want to be near him. Want to flatter him. Yet they’d still plow the great man’s daughter given half a chance.

“If you just have a conversation with him,” I say, hating the pleading note in my tone.

“Entertain the son of a criminal? A murderer, no less. I see you don’t know him as well as you imagined.”

So smug. God, I hate him.

“It doesn’t matter to me who or what his father is.” Though I don’t believe him, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of arguing about it. “I care for Troy, and I wanted him here tonight.”

“You care for no one but yourself. And you only brought him here because you wanted attention. As usual.”

“Poor Daddy,” I pout. “For a business titan, you’re a little slow on the uptake. I stopped looking for your approval years ago.”

His jaw flexes, distaste washing over his face. “You’re an embarrassment.”

“Troy doesn’t seem to think so,” I taunt, unable to stop myself. “He kind of loves who I am.” My father hates how I look, all tits and ass, so I play up to the stereotype he thinks I am.

“Enough.” His hand cuts through the air, and I find myself flinching. “He is not one of us.”

“That’s why I like him.” Why I love him.

“You bring him here, into my home. To my anniversary party. Do you have any idea what people are saying?”

I think of the room we just left. The polite smiles. The looks. “I have a fair idea. They’re saying poor Edwin.” Because it’s all about him and how he looks. “He’s got his handful with that dreadful daughter. Whatever did he do to deserve her?”

“You enjoy it, embarrassing me.” My heart gives a little jolt as he stops dead in front of me.

“Not everything is about you.” My voice is unsteady. “I’m done with trying to earn your attention—done with it. Troy is smart, and he’s loyal, and—”

“Smart and loyal are good only for dogs. Breeding and connections, that’s what’s important. He will never be welcome in my home, unless he’s pruning the hedges or sweeping the yard.”

My throat burns as my hands curl into fists at my back. He is so hateful. I wish he could see that. Maybe he already does.

“It’s not passion or love you’re feeling. It’s your own insecurity. You’ll find any excuse for a rebellion. I pity you that.”

“Insecurity,” I repeat. “Gee, I wonder how that came about.”