Page 93 of Strictly Business
"We want you to be happy. It's a little surprising, is all. You seemed adamant about Finn—“
"He lied, Elizabeth."
Her brow quirks. “All I’m trying to say is, if your happiness means trying again with David, then do that. But if that means signing the papers and moving on…do that."
Chapter Fifty
FINN
ONE MONTH LATER
WALKING INTO THE HOUSE, I immediately look for the one person who will make today bearable. I find him in the corner of the sitting room, scotch in hand as he speaks with one of Oliver’s friends — Sam, I think? He looks relieved when we make eye contact and excuses himself from the conversation. “Thank God, you’re here,” Uncle Jack says. “I was starting to think you were going to bail on me.”
“And let you have all the fun?”
“Where’s your girlfriend? I was hoping to meet her after hearing about your parents’ little run-in with her at the party. Sorry, I couldn’t make it, by the way. I was caught up in London with—”
“We’re not together anymore.” I down the scotch from the bartender in one sip, offering a tight-lipped smile. “She decided to go back to her ex-husband.”
“Well, that’s good news.” The sound of Oliver’s voice makes every nerve stand on edge. Uncle Jack subtly shakes his head, signaling me not to start the fight. This is not the time or place, and it should be handled privately after the luncheon is over. He’s right, this should be done without an audience. Rolling my shoulders, I turn to greet my father, and the amusement on his face reignites the flame I had dimmed seconds ago. “You can do better than sleeping with the help, son.”
“The help?”
“That girl was just a convenient piece while you were busy putting your little project together. We all know it,” he says. “We knew it wouldn’t last. She was far too worried about fitting in, and that was never going to happen.”
“Honey,” Mother says and loops her arm through mine. “You’ll never guess who I ran into the other day.” She tries to pull me away from the scene, but my feet are planted. “Amanda! She is back and—”
“Is that what you said to her?” I ask never taking my eyes off my father.
“I didn’t tell her anything other than the truth,” he says with a simple shrug.
“You told her the only reason I started Sheffield House was the money! You told her—”
“Is that not the truth?” A smirk spreads across his face when I don’t respond. “You did start this business solely because you—”
“Okay boys,” Uncle Jack cuts in, “I think we need to move this to a more private place.” He smiles at both of us motioning toward the crowd around us. Oliver huffs before turning to the eager guests wanting to see what happens next. “Excuse me, everyone. I need to have a quick conversation with my son. Lunch should be ready in just a few moments.” Uncle Jack grips my shoulder and pushes forward when Oliver walks out of the sitting room toward the club.
The moment the door closes, my back is against the wall with a stubby finger in my face, “How dare you, boy.” His blue eyes burn with a fury I know all too well, and suddenly, my anger disappears and I’m the same little kid who has always cowered to the man before him. The man who was supposed to protect him and love him. I look away from my father’s fury, but he grips my chin roughly and forces me to meet it again. “Who do you think you are?”
“Oliver—”
“Jack, stay the fuck out of this,” Oliver hisses without looking. “How dare you come into my house filled with guests and start a fight. Your mother has worked tirelessly to make this day perfect, and you come in here thinking you can ruin it. Absolutely not. You will go out there and apologize to her immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” I say between gritted teeth.
“Oliver, it wasn’t that bad, you started—”
“Jack, I said stay the fuck out of it.” Oliver turns back to me, “When everyone is gone, we will discuss how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand?”
I meet Uncle Jack’s disappointed stare before turning back to my father, “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Satisfied, my father takes a step back from me and straightens himself, adjusting his suit before offering a nod and walking out of the room.
I finally release the breath I had been holding and scrub a hand down my face. I hate the way I turn back into the scared little boy who used to walk on eggshells trying not to set his father off. I’m a grown-ass man, for godsakes; I should be able to stand up for myself, tell him to fuck off… I never can, though. I do what I have to in order to survive and try to avoid the alternative.