Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“I don’t know how I’ll be able to maintain this façade.”
Axel took in a slow breath as he considered my words. “He’s a smart man. He probably already suspects something is amiss. If you think he’s onto you, confront him about what you overheard. Tell him you haven’t mentioned it to me because you’ve been so confused. That might be your opportunity to coax a confession out of him, and if it works, then you won’t have to pretend anymore.”
I stared at the dark marble countertop and felt my world spin. I’d never had to put on an act around my father. He was the one person I could confide all my truths to without repercussion. But now he was the person that I could trust the least. He was a complete stranger…but with my father’s face.
“Text him and say you’re busy with the restaurant. Ask to meet him for dinner.”
“Will you come too?”
“I think it’s best if I don’t.”
Face-to-face, one-on-one, with him sounded utterly unbearable.
“Our last conversation was quite unpleasant. And he basically hired a hit man to take me out, so he obviously doesn’t care for me.”
“Then I will have to confront him.” Even if I never wanted to speak to him again, he’d threatened the life of my husband, and no amount of heartbreak or intimidation would let that slide. “I’ll take care of it.” I pulled out my phone again and typed the message without even thinking about it. I’m caught up at the restaurant. Dinner tonight?
His message was instantaneous, like he’d been staring at the screen waiting for my reply. Great. See you tonight.
I returned my phone to my pocket. “We’re having dinner tonight.”
Axel stared at me with his hard gaze, as if he expected me to make some kind of outburst. “You’ve got this.”
“I’m not going to let my father hurt you.”
“I don’t care about him. I only care about you. And I know you can do this.”
I arrived at the restaurant first and was taken to my father’s table. My heart was in my throat like acid reflux, and my stomach was tight in uncomfortable knots. I could put up a good front when I needed to, to ignore someone’s rudeness or annoyance, but to look at someone you hated like you loved them…that was impossible.
So I sat there, the anxiety flooding my blood and muscles. A basket of bread was in front of me, but it was the first time I didn’t reach for a warm slice. I didn’t crave wine either and left my glass untouched on the table.
Minutes trickled by, but it felt like a lifetime.
And then, finally, he entered the restaurant, in a long-sleeved hunter-green shirt and dark pants. It took him less than a second to spot me, like he’d noticed me through the window when his driver had brought him to the curb.
Once I finally saw him in the flesh, my heart stilled. Adrenaline came from nowhere and crushed me. I felt like I was about to attend a brawl, not a dinner.
He hesitated by the table, like he expected me to rise to my feet and greet him. When I didn’t, he sat across from me. “Hello, sweetheart. How are you?” He pulled his chair in and looked at me with eyes that were affectionate but discerning.
How am I? Ha, if only I could answer. “Good. How about you?”
“Good?” he asked, his eyebrow cocked. “That’s it?”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “What do you mean?”
“You said you and Axel got back together. I just expected more than good.”
“Oh.” He was right. I should have more to say. “After he took some time to calm down, he came to my apartment and said he was sorry and wanted to work on things. I’ve moved back in, and things have been nice. I’m sorry I’ve been absent…just busy.”
“It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “I figured that was the case. I’m glad the two of you worked things out.”
“Me too.”
The waiter came over, and my father ordered a bottle of wine for the table, either because he expected to drink it himself or he expected me to switch my wine for his. He glanced at the menu then his hands rested together on the table. “What are you having?”
I had no appetite. “The gnocchi.”
He nodded. “Same ol’ salad for me.”
I’d never felt so uncomfortable, so out of place with him. But I felt like there was barely enough air for us both to breathe. Or we were both in the desert, but he was the only one with water. I couldn’t start a conversation or ask a question, not when my mind was elsewhere.
He continued to look at me. “Everything alright?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “How are things with you?”
“Just working on a few projects.”
“How did that meeting go?” I asked.