Page 87 of Hate You More

“Are you sure? He always seemed—”

“I know what he’s capable of.” She gnaws at the inside of her lip for a beat. “Let’s change the subject,” she says a little too brightly. “I’m done talking about him.”

But that just makes me wonder all the more.

Chapter 23

Clara

Fourteen months ago

“How did the deposition go?”

I look up from my desk, stunned. My dad in my office—in the family office? The place rich people send their black sheep to keep them out of trouble. Along with their family members too stupid to get a job. I’m sure when I walked in through the door following an aimless year traveling after college, the staff here were happy to learn I didn’t belong to the latter group.

It’s a pretty easy gig. And as the person most likely to become the boss—if the dark lord is ever done with dear old Dad—I was afforded a corner office. I’m also paid a six-figure salary—a tax write-off for Dad’s bottom line. And, bonus, the job doesn’t interfere too much with my social life.

“It went fine.” I close my laptop and answer with a bright smile despite the warning drill my body has begun. The icy finger of dread pulling down my spine. The way the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand. The little voice that says I should get up from my seat and make for the door. For safety’s sake.

But he’s standing there, filling the space, and before I can make my excuses, he steps over the threshold and closes the door behind him with a quiet snick.

Shit.

We see less of each other since I moved out, which suits me just fine. The less we see each other, the better we get along. Or the less he hurts me, maybe.

I’m required only to turn up for dinner once a month and never for vacations. Safe to say it’s been some time since I’ve ignored my body’s warning bells.

“Fine? Really? That isn’t the way I’d phrase it.” He brings his hands to the front of his body, one hand atop the other. I’m suddenly very grateful for the desk between us. Not that he’d lash out here, not where there are potential witnesses.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” I hate the tiny warble in my answer.

“Try harder, Clara.”

“I answered their questions.” I move a pen an inch to the right, then straighten the document folder next to it. Behind me, the sun shines over Central Park, while on the other side of the wall, the office hums with mundanity. Only in this room have things changed. The air has thinned, making it harder to breathe, the space between us tension filled.

“It’s how you answered them that is a problem.” Edwin Forbes at fifty-eight is still a good-looking man, I’m told. Tall and formidable, he demands respect wherever he goes. And at twenty-seven, I’m still more than a little frightened of him.

“I answered them honestly. I repeated the events as I saw them.”

He reaches up to rub his chin. “Honesty isn’t your strong point.”

I inhale a thin, sharp breath. We both know what he’s talking about, what he’s dangled over my head like a sword for almost eight years. He’s never explicitly said the words, but he uses the event as a reminder. A stick to keep me in line that’s more effective than just his hands.

“Let’s not pretend you didn’t know what you were doing. What is it now?” he asks wearily. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Come now, Clara. We both know your loyalty is negotiable.”

“I don’t like to lie.” I enunciate my words clearly. “And I don’t like men who take advantage of the women around them.”

My father huffs out a laugh. “Women who don’t know their place, you mean.”

“In the land of dinosaurs, sure.” There I go, burning bridges again. But this one is intentional. That’s not to say my stomach didn’t ache in that bland meeting room downtown. That my hands didn’t shake as I reached for the glass of water as Chloe Goode’s attorney shot question after question my way. It also doesn’t mean I’m not exceptionally anxious right now.

Chloe used to work in this office in accounts. She’s twenty-five and inordinately sweet. I like her. We even met up for a drink after she left to go work for one of Dad’s oldest friends, Drummond East. Or Uncle Drum, as I’ve always known him.

That day, I went to his office to deliver some paperwork. There had been a mix-up with an invoice from a private airfield, and I was meeting friends for sushi at Hatsuhana anyway. At least I was until I found Chloe alone in the office, red eyed and clearly distressed.