Page 68 of The Betrayer

Unsure what else to say, the valet nodded and moved to shut the door behind Angela.

No father. No car. No text. No message.

Frustration warred with defeat. Despite knowing better, some of me had genuinely thought my father would be here, if not early, then on time. The last two weeks had given me a modicum of hope that he might turn a new leaf. Or even a quarter of a leaf. But two weeks was apparently his limit on responsibility. This was not a good start.

What else had I expected?

“Your father’s not here yet?” Angela came to stand next to me, looking up and down the sidewalk.

“No.”

I was sure that one word said everything.

“One of your guests is already inside, though, sir,” the valet added.

“All right.” I made a final adjustment to my coat with a roll of my shoulders and took a deep breath to steel myself for the evening and the inevitable questions about my father.

We were following the valet to the door when another car pulled up at the curb. I glanced over my shoulder, my attention caught by the noise, then took a second look.

“Angela, wait.”

I didn’t wait to see if my girlfriend had heard me as I turned, a rush of relief accompanied by something more potent.

“What?” came her voice from behind me.

“I want you to meet my father. I don’t think you’ve ever actually met him before.”

A second valet was already at the car door, pulling it open, and my father greeted him warmly as he got out. Then he smiled as he caught sight of me, adjusting his cuffs just as I had done.

“Hey, kid. Sorry we’re late. Got caught in that awful traffic.”

“You’re right on time. Actually”—I glanced at my watch—“you had five whole minutes before you were late. I’m impressed.”

I could hear the relief in my voice.

“Even better.” He flashed me one of his trademark grins, then turned just as a woman got out of the back of the car.

A vision unfolded as she straightened, her tall, willowy, body outlined by a slinky black dress that left just enough to the imagination. A cloud of dark hair fell in loose curls down her back and framed a face that my wildest imagination couldn’t have dreamed up, with full red lips and intensely green eyes that pulled me in as they flickered toward me.

For a moment, the world dropped away, and I forgot to breathe.

The woman’s gaze stayed locked with mine as though neither of us could look away. Then the world rushed back in, overwhelming the noise and sound and my father saying something.

“—is my son, Paul.”

The woman blinked as though coming back to herself, and her gaze slid to something over my shoulder. Then her eyes widened. “What the hell?” she asked, her complexion visibly paling before her cheeks colored with anger. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Is what a joke?” My father looked as bewildered at the reaction as I felt.

“Rita, what are you doing here?” Angela pushed past me, her tone sharp.

“What do you mean what am I doing here? What are you doing here?” the woman retorted.

“Rita?” I looked between the two women. “Do you know each other?”

“Of course, we do,” Angela huffed testily, crossing her arms as she shook her head. “Rita is my daughter.”

THE END