10. Stefan
STEFAN
It was Tuesday night, and I was late for dinner.
Getting out of the office had taken longer than I’d anticipated, thanks to all the catch-up work I had to do after playing hooky yesterday.
And it had started raining just after dark—really coming down, pelting everything with hard, ice cold torrents of water—so traffic across town had been infuriatingly slow, the visibility poor.
Shaking the rain off my coat in the elevator up to my father’s top floor penthouse, I couldn’t help wishing Tori was at my side.
But she’d insisted on coming straight from UChicago and meeting me here.
I’d tried to tell her we’d both be more comfortable if we showed up at my dad’s together, but her argument was that it would look better if at least one of us was on time.
I couldn’t fight her on that. Punctuality was something my father valued highly, and considering the way things had been going lately, Tori needed all the brownie points she could get with him.
This dinner was already a lot to ask of her. I could only imagine how hard all of this was on Tori. Truthfully, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it either. While I was eager to spend more time with Max, that enthusiasm didn’t extend to seeing my father and Anja.
I was doing my best to forgive her, to convince myself that the choices she’d made all those years ago had been driven by her fear of my father’s power and her love for Max.
My father, on the other hand, deserved no mercy from me.
Unfortunately, there was too much at stake to risk alienating him in any way.
So for the time being, I had to pretend that everything was fine.
That I still planned to take over KZM and run it exactly the same way he always had.
Stepping off the elevator and heading down the hall, I checked my phone, hoping for a text from Tori telling me that things were going fine.
Nothing. It was hardly a surprise. She’d been quiet lately, probably because she was processing a lot.
We both were. There were going to be a lot of changes in our lives now that Max was in the picture.
I wasn’t exactly sure how we were going to make it work, but I knew that we had to. For Max’s sake.
I rang the doorbell and one of my father’s domestic employees let me in and took my coat. A huge clap of thunder cracked outside, and I couldn’t help feeling like it was an omen.
My father, Anja, and Max were all waiting around the dining room table.
The room was lit with candles and the soft glow of the chandelier overhead, the best china and crystal laid out.
There were even cloth napkins folded into little origami triangles at each place setting, like at a formal meal.
I couldn’t remember the last time my father had hosted something this extravagant in his home, and that was saying a lot.
He was the kind of person who loved to show off.
“Where’s Tori?” I asked, pulling out the chair next to Max.
“Not here,” my father said airily.
“Really? I thought she was—”
“Hello, Stefan,” Anja cut in. “How was work?”
“Hi, Stefan,” Max said quietly, echoing his mother. “Did you see the light-ling before?”
I gave Anja a half-nod and then sat down and grinned at my son. “I sure did,” I said. “It was pretty cool. Thunder’s kinda loud, though. You hanging in there okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, but from the looks of it the poor kid seemed overwhelmed. My father could be intimidating enough, but the set-up was a lot to take in as well.
Max was sitting up unnaturally straight in his chair, hands tightly clasped in front of him, eyes wide as they roamed the room full of antiques and the formal table settings.
I understood how he felt. It was hard not to be nervous around my father’s things.
You could tell at a glance just how expensive and priceless everything was.
And if you broke something, god help you. My father was quick to punish.
Not that I’d ever let my father do anything like that to Max—or any other children I might have. Nor would I do that to my own kids. I’d never repeat his parenting mistakes.
“You’re late,” my father said, standing from his seat at the head of the table. He gestured for me to move chairs so I’d be next to Anja, but I didn’t budge.
“I was getting caught up on a few projects,” I said. Then I looked at Max. “Sorry it took so long,” I told him. “You guys should have started without me.”
No doubt the kid had to be hungry. It was obvious from the near-empty bread basket and bowl of olive pits on the table that they’d been sitting there picking at the appetizers for a while.
“We’ll eat now,” my father said, his words a command. The domestic worker standing near the doorway nodded and then scurried off to the kitchen.
I frowned. “We should wait for Tori. I don’t know what’s kept her; she should have been here already,” I said, but then noticed there wasn’t another place setting. “Where’s her seat?”
My father just ignored me, leaning back as a bowl of soup was set in front of him.
“We can set her up when she arrives,” Anja said, reaching across the table and gently putting her hand on my arm. “If she shows.”
“She’ll be here. Probably just got caught in traffic. People here can’t drive in the rain.”
Pulling my arm back, I looked over and narrowed my eyes at my father.
It was no secret to my wife that he was a complete asshole, but even still, I knew that Tori would be hurt if she arrived and there wasn’t a place setting for her.
Not that she’d be surprised. But I couldn’t ask them to wait any longer, that much was obvious.
Max was practically inhaling his soup and had taken the last piece of bread as well.
Excusing myself and slipping out into the hallway for a moment, I slid my phone out of my pocket and checked my missed calls and texts. There was nothing from Tori. When I called her, it rang through to voicemail.
“Hey, hope everything’s okay. Call me back when you get this, or text me,” I said in my message. “Either way, let me know what’s up. Dinner’s started, but we’ll be here. Love you.”
Hanging up, I paced the hallway. I expected her to call me right back. But a few minutes went by, and she didn’t. Worried, I sent her a quick text.
I’m here at KZ’s. You on your way? Shoot me an ETA when you get a sec.
I sent it off, waiting to make sure it was marked as delivered, but it didn’t change to “read.” Still anxious, especially with the torrential downpour that was flooding the streets out there, I waited a few more minutes. But I knew I had to return to the table.
“Don’t you think you’re being rude?” my father asked as I sat down, when he noticed I was looking at my phone. “This is supposed to be family time.”
“Forgive me for being worried that the woman I love is missing,” I told him coldly. “It feels a little too familiar.”
My father just laughed, as if I was making a great joke. It was a challenge to keep my hands from clenching into fists as I tried to eat my soup.
For a moment I considered calling Bruce, but I didn’t want to resort to that.
I’d hired the bodyguard to keep Tori safe, and I felt guilty about the idea of using him as a babysitter or my personal spy like I’d done with Dmitri in the past. I’d worked hard to build trust with my wife, and I didn’t want to compromise that.
Plus, it was safe to assume she might be running late from a study group or that she was hiding out from the rain or else caught in traffic.
Bruce would have called if there was anything to worry about. So I’d just have to wait.
Staying focused on Max as the main course was brought out, I managed to dodge the awkwardness of Anja’s attempts at small talk and my father’s blatant and vocal disregard of my concern over Tori.
It was uncomfortable, to say the least. But nothing could ease my worry.
I had to keep telling myself she’d just bailed out at the last minute, that the pressures of playing house with my ex and my kid, along with my overbearing father, had seemed like too much to handle.
“Anja hasn’t aged a day,” my father was saying, as I tuned back into the conversation. “Most women, it’s all downhill after they have kids. They go soft, start to sag. Get lazy about taking care of themselves.”
“Dad,” I cut in, disgusted by his chauvinism. Anja’s smile was tight and thin, but it was her eyes that gave her away. She was looking at him like she wanted to stab him with her fork.
“Not this one, though!” my father went on, ignoring me. “Just look at her, Stefan. You really lucked out. No wonder the kid turned out so good looking, am I right?”
“Yeah,” I said, hoping he’d move on. I didn’t want to be rude in front of Max, but I also didn’t want to give my father or Anja any ideas. Especially since my father kept acting as if she was my wife. As if Tori could be replaced just because she wasn’t here for dinner.
Instead, he just leaned over and pointed at her with his knife. “Don’t you think she’s even more beautiful than when you two were young?”
“She looks very strong and capable,” I said pointedly, refusing to play his game.
My father just grinned and reached out to mess up Max’s hair in an affectionate way that almost made my jaw drop. “Hey kid, you want to tell me more about those aardvarks?” he asked.
“Pangolins,” my son corrected him.
“Still buzzing over your trip to the zoo yesterday?” I said. Max was the only person I wanted to talk to.
He flashed me a huge grin. “Yeah!”
“Max was telling me all about it over breakfast this morning,” my father butted in. “We talked about every exhibit he saw. I heard you got to walk through a whole rainforest.”
“Did you now?” I couldn’t help glaring at him, but he just smiled indulgently at Max, avoiding my gaze. Apparently, he was going to play the role of doting grandfather this evening.
As if we were all some big happy family.