Pay the Price: A Dark New Adult Romance

29. Daisy

Isaw why business magazines loved featuring my dad on their covers. As an entrepreneur he was straight out of central casting, his dark hair peppered with just enough silver to make him look experienced and distinguished. His custom suit fit him perfectly, and he still had the trim build of a man whose middle name was discipline and who’d been playing tennis and racquetball his entire life.

I took a deep breath, trying to muster my courage. What was it about a parent that could turn you into a nervous kid no matter how old you were?

“Well,” he said when he reached me, “I finally get to talk to my daughter, and it only took a mandatory work event to make it happen.”

I glared at him. “Sorry for not rushing to return your texts after you kidnapped me and held me prisoner for ten days.”

He looked around nervously, then looked at me like I was the crazy one. “What on earth are you talking about?” He lifted his chin. “I did no such thing.”

“Right,” I said. “I guess Calvin just decided to have a little fun, complete with an army of guards and a menu at Hotel Prisoner that looked a lot like the one you’ve been feeding Ruth and me for years.”

“What is the matter with you?” He lowered his voice, obviously trying not to be overheard by the crowd streaming toward the tent where champagne and hors d’oeuvres were being served. Then he scowled. “I knew it was a mistake for you to live with those… criminals.”

“This has nothing to do with them. You’d made your point by canceling my credit cards and kicking me out of the house.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who left.”

“And then you sent all my stuff to Mom’s house. No, you had Calvin bring it, just like you have him do all your dirty work.”

“Calvin works for me, doing the things I need done, whatever they may be,” he said. “I’m a busy man. I can’t indulge your every whim myself, and truthfully, I’m beginning to think you need some help.”

I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re talking nonsense, rambling about being kidnapped, by your father no less.” He studied me. “Perhaps some time away is in order. Some professional help. Mental illness runs in the Mercer family after all.”

I gaped at him. “You’re using Mom to justify this… this… whatever this is?!”

One of the stragglers heading to the tent glanced at me before averting their gaze. And yeah, I was getting a little loud, but who could blame me?

“I’m only speaking the truth, Daisy. You were too young to know before your…” He took a deep breath, like the thought still pained him. “… before your mother died. After, well, I wasn’t eager to tell you that part of your family history. I was hoping it would be irrelevant, but you’ve had a lot in common with your mother. Perhaps I should have been more vigilant.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I said. “You don’t have to throw Mom under the bus. You could just apologize for what you did.”

“You’re being dramatic.” He looked around as the last of the attendees moved past us to the tent. “And so could you. We were worried about you while you were gone.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Right. Real worried. That’s why you didn’t even issue a press release or file a missing persons report. The Be— ” I cut myself short when I realized I was about to refer to my brother’s killers while talking to my dad. “Someone else had to do that.”

His gaze turned cold, like he knew who I was referring to. “That kind of publicity is bad for business. I didn’t want to jump the gun if you’d simply decided to take some time like your mother.”

“What do you mean?” All this talk of my mom mixed with talk of the Beasts and my dad’s gaslighting was starting to make me confused.

“It was something your mother did from time to time,” my dad said. “And that’s what she called it — taking some time. She would disappear for a few days — or a few weeks — and return unharmed, even refreshed. Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?”

A shadow passed over his gray eyes. “On one occasion, her… illness was worse when she came home. She spent some time at Oak Hill. It did her a world of good.”

“Oak Hill?” It was a psychiatric hospital, a place people went — or were sent — when their mental health problems were too big for therapy.

“It’s a wonderful facility,” he said. “Perhaps we should consider it.”

I shrank back from him. “I’m not sick.”

He did a good job of looking sad, and I realized he was an expert at playing this part: the concerned family member, at wit’s end. “That’s exactly what your mother used to say.”

A chill traveled up my spine. A new picture of my parents’ marriage was beginning to form in my mind, one where they hadn’t just been opposites who’d somehow attracted but where my dad had married my mom for her money, then had her committed to Oak Hill to convince everyone — maybe even including her — that she was mentally ill.

I glared at him. “Maybe because it was true.”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “Come home, Daisy. I can keep an eye on you there, get you the help you need if it comes to that.”

I shook off his shoulder and took a step away from him, toward the tent and the after-party.

I was suddenly afraid of being alone with him.

“Like you helped Mom? No thanks.” I shook my head and blinked away the sting of tears. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you.”

I hurried for the tent, eager to put distance between us, my heart thudding. I imagined going to the police, telling them I’d been kidnapped by Calvin on my dad’s orders, that I’d been held at the dam under guard for ten days.

Except there hadn’t been a single report on the news about the shoot-out at the dam, and I was guessing if the police investigated the facility, they’d find everything just as it should be. My dad was good at cleaning up his messes — or having someone else do it.

I’d look crazy, like he’d said.

I felt sick thinking about my mom. She’d been all alone and sleeping with the enemy. He’d gaslighted her, taken control of her money, institutionalized her.

And from the looks of things, he was planning to do the same to me.