Page 64 of When Sinners Hate
“To talk. You’re my only child.”
“That hasn’t been a concern for you in the past.” In fact, according to him, I’m not even his heir.
“What you said this morning has made me reconsider. Meet me at the casino, have a drink, and you can update me on where we stand. You can even walk away if you want.”
“I won’t change my mind about what you asked me this morning. You need to understand that. No matter how apologetic you are.” It’s a hard limit.
“Understood. I’ll see you at six.”
I hang up, and a gnawing feeling settles in my stomach. A Cortez wouldn’t be so soft, but then again, Melena Cortez would never treat her children the way my father treats me. And then I think about Abel going to prison. And wonder if maybe she would.
~
There’s one thing I don’t need, and that’s more clothes, but I use the excuse of meeting my father to buy an outfit. I’ve been in fitted jeans, loafers and a silk top all day, and it’s not what I’d wear to a casino. A lacey black dress, heels and a new bag are what I choose, and then I book in with the department store makeup concierge. She does an okay job, and I buy a few items to make it worth her time. All on Abel.
I’m sure he can track my purchases.
He’s not messaged me back since lunchtime. I don’t even know how we get over this, but that’s for tomorrow.
I park in the VIP area at the front of the casino and stare down the argument waiting to come from the valet’s lips. He stares at me and doesn’t say a word.
“Good choice,” I say as I pass.
I walk on in, unimpressed with the blaring machines and lights to the right aimed at luring customers in. The big money will be made at the back, or perhaps on a private floor for clients. There’s a nice bar area I can see upstairs and, beyond that, a restaurant. I walk towards it, check the time and head to the bar. I’m a few minutes late, so already pissed off that he’s not on time. The bar has a gleaming black glass top, and I order a martini from the woman behind it.
Finally, my father arrives. His large frame makes hard work of perching on the bar stool, but I’m not going to move to accommodate him.
“Alexia.”
“Father.” I watch him over the rim of my martini glass as I take a sip.
“So,” he starts but hasn’t got anything to say.
“You could start with an apology.” I offer. The frown and look of disgust on his features is all I need. He’s not here to make amends. It should be the final straw. I can’t keep holding on to the illusion that he’ll value me.
As I lean forward to get the attention of the bar woman, I look to see if I recognise any of the men around. Sure enough, Andreas is near the entrance. He gives me a very subtle shake of his head.
“Another martini and a bourbon?” I look back at Dad, and he nods. “Thanks.” My nerves spike, but I battle them down with a shallow breath.
I pull my phone from my bag.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking my phone.”
“I thought we were here to talk.” He tries to distract me.
“And I thought you were genuine about your offer to talk. But you don’t seem to have anything to say to me.”
Help me. I’m sorry.
It’s all the time I have to type before slipping the phone back inside my purse.
“Very well. At the start of this, you said I could have everything I wanted. I just needed to be patient.” His beady eyes focus on me as if he’s waiting on me to deliver this very second.
“I did. But you’ve only shown me that I can’t trust you. You’ll never think of me as a worthy daughter. So why should I work to deliver you everything you want?”
“Because you are an Ortega.” His jowls shake, and his face begins to redden. “And I’ve told you to.” He grabs my leg, holding me in place.