Page 7 of Love in the Dark
“You want your mother safe? Then you’ll go to RCA and you’ll be the best damn teacher they’ve ever had. You’ll behave. You’ll stay far away from the front page of the tabloids.”
There it is. The card he’s always had in his back pocket but has never played until now.
The answering rictus on his face is downright sinister, revealing the true evil of the man. He’s getting off on this, on the power he wields over our family and how he can use it to get me in line.
“Why are you doing this?” I demand, “Tess can carry on your legacy, she’s ready and she wants it.” He narrows his eyes at me, his mouth flattening into a tight line. “I can fall in line if you just let me–”
“No son of mine is going to work in the back of a restaurant like a blue collar pleb,” he rages, losing the flimsy hold he had on his temper. “You will inherit this company and you willgrow up.”
The only passion I have in life, the one thing that gets my blood pumping and my creative interest flowing, is cooking. Growing up, my parents went out of town often and left us in the care of our household staff, so I used to spend afternoons with our chefs. At first just watching and taking everything in, then getting my hands dirty with the fundamentals like omelets and mixed salads, to eventually working side by side with them and learning more intricate recipes and how flavor profiles work together.
I’d been careful to hide it from my father, intuitively knowing that he wouldn’t like it. But then one day, the same summer that I’d witnessed him hitting my mum, he’d come home early from a business trip and he’d caught me in the kitchen, with my sleeves rolled up to my elbows, my hands in fresh pasta dough, and a contented smile on my face, and he’d gone postal.
He’d grabbed me by the throat and flung me across the room like I weighed nothing because back then I hadn’t. He’d fired the chef on the spot, banned the next hire from interacting with me, and made sure I never came near another kitchen again.
He continues. “You will have no contact with your mother or your sister for a year until you learn some discipline.”
I open my mouth to argue, to curse him out, but he carries on. “If I find out you have,” he elongates every word, stretching the unmistakable threat in his tone until he’s sure I’m hooked on every word, “you know what I’ll do to your mother.”
The cruelty of his intimidation tactics almost takes me out at the knees. I see no way out of this and I’m trapped between feelings of fear of what he’ll do to my mum if I step a toe out of line, and rage that he’s won.
That no matter what I do, there is no escape for me.
The inevitability of my fate grabs me by the throat and chokes me, making it hard for me to speak. “If I do what you say, you’ll leave her alone?”
“You’re finally starting to understand how this works,” he says with a smug grin and I’m itching to wipe it off his face with my fists.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
I turn on my heels and head for the door when he strikes one final blow.
“And one more thing, Tristan.” I square my shoulders and face him once again. Whatever he’s about to say, I know he’s kept it as the final reveal for a reason. “No more scandals means no more girls. You’ll keep your dick in your pants while you’re in Switzerland. Thornton, the principal, will keep an eye on you to make sure you stick to this condition. Knowing you, you’re going to need the babysitting.” The smile on his face is sick with twisted pleasure as he continues. “Who knows, celibacy might do you a world of good.”
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Chapter 3
Tristan
“Another,” I call out. The bartender needs no further invitation to come over and refill my glass.
I stare aimlessly down at the rich, brown liquid, swirling it around the contours of my glass as I think back to the clusterfuck of the last two months.
After putting the noose around my neck and metaphorically tightening it to the point of near suffocation, my father had delivered on his promise to evict me from my home. I’d been unceremoniously ousted from my Chelsea pad and my things dumped in storage.
I’d refused to set foot in Aubonne or even acknowledge that a move, even if only temporary, was happening. Instead, I showed up at Tess’ place carrying only a duffle bag. When she’d opened the door, I’d barged past her and made myself at home, invoking my younger sibling privileges as the reason why she had to let me stay with her.
Given that I was penniless, I’d traded free accommodation in return for delicious home cooked meals and we’d spent the last two months rooming together and behaving like we used to when we were kids. It was fun and it’d helped me take my mind off the upcoming year and what was at stake if I fucked up.
I didn’t tell Tess about the extent of our father’s threats. Her outrage would have made her try to intervene on my behalf and the last thing I needed was her putting herself in harm’s way. She’d escaped my father’s notice this far and I was desperate to keep it that way.
I’d told her that he was forbidding all contact between us and her temper had flared so suddenly in response that I’d almost had to restrain her to keep her from marching into his office and confronting him. The more gruesome comments about our mum, I’d kept to myself.
Once she’d accepted that these two months were the last time we were going to see each other for a while, she’d focused on quality time, including helping me with my lesson plans. Because, to add insult to injury, the subject my father had selected I teach to the next generation of Europe’s brightest minds wasbusiness.
If that wasn’t a gigantic ‘fuck you’ to me, I don’t know what was.
I’d created the basic plans and she’d helped me craft them like the perfectionist she was. If I’d had any lingering doubts about my lack of interest in business or running a Fortune 500 company, this little experiment of my father’s had put those to bed. I’d been bored to tears by the very lessons I was supposed to teach starting a couple of weeks from now.