Chapter Nine Imani
‘Have you lost your ever-loving mind?’
I feel sick. And like I’m about twelve years old.
I’m sat on my sofa, hugging a pillow to my chest as my father paces up and down my living room. He’s spent the last fifteen minutes alternating between furiously muttering under his breath and outright yelling at me.
We’re currently back in the yelling stage.
‘I don’t know who you are, but you’re clearly not my daughter,’ he snaps, glaring at me like I’ve just been accused of murder and not simply causing a scene at a fancy event. ‘Because my daughter, the Imani Davies we raised, would never behave like this.’
My mother sits on the armchair opposite me, her face a perfect mask of disappointment. She shakes her head and titters in agreement. ‘Never.’
I squeeze the pillow a little tighter.
This is what you wanted, I remind myself. You knew he’d be angry. Just ride it out. Ride it out for a little longer.
‘Well?’ he yells, and I nearly jump out of my skin. In twenty-eight years, I’ve only heard my father truly lose control and yell a handful of times and it was never once directed at me. The last time was during the pandemic when he first learned that flights were being grounded. ‘Explain yourself!’
‘I—’ I start, but my throat is hoarse from holding in tears. This is the first chance I’ve had to get a word in since my parents stormed into my apartment fifteen minutes ago. ‘I told you that we had a history.’
‘And I told you,’ he growls through gritted teeth, ‘that you need to get over it. To make amends. For God’s sake, Imani, whatever the boy did to you, it was nearly a decade ago now. Since when were you the kind of person to hold a grudge?’
‘He hurt me,’ I snap back. Fuelled by my anger, the lie comes easy. ‘Since when were you the kind of father who doesn’t care about something like that?’
My father reels like I’ve just slapped him. Even my mother freezes for a moment. ‘He hurt you emotionally,’ my father says quietly after a few seconds of strained silence. ‘Emotionally, Imani. Those wounds should have long since healed.’
‘Well, they haven’t,’ I say stubbornly.
He stares at me long and hard and I stare, unblinking, right back.
This is the man who entered the aviation industry forty years ago with a dream.
The man who has either outlasted or bested every single one of his competitors and built an empire from the ground up.
The kind of man who strides into business meetings with the assuredness of someone who knows everything is going to go his way.
This is not my father.
My father has always been driven, has always wanted the best for me and for me to be the best. He’s been hard on me over the years, demanded too much from me on occasion, but he’s never been cruel.
When did the change happen? Why did it happen?
And how didn’t I notice until now? Because, looking at him closely, I can see a difference.
His frown lines are more pronounced, his eyes look tired and heavy, and even the way he’s carrying himself feels different.
It’s like he’s got a weight on his shoulders and it’s finally become too much for him to bear.
‘You’re to contact the organising committee for the gala and apologise,’ my father says gruffly.
‘It was an uncharacteristic act from you – we’ll say you’ve been suffering from stress, perhaps a medical issue so they won’t probe – and it won’t ever happen again.
We’ll also increase our donation to help smooth things over. ’
I gape at him. ‘You want me to pretend I’m ill so people won’t talk?’
‘I don’t want to be doing any of this, Imani!
’ he explodes. ‘But you’ve left me no choice.
Imagine my surprise this morning when, instead of opening up an email from the committee thanking me for my sizeable donation, I was met with this!
’ He dives into his pocket, pulls out a piece of thoroughly scrunched paper, and slams it down on my coffee table.
I lean forward, my heart racing.
It’s a photo from last night. More specifically, it’s a photo of me mid-drink toss.
Asher and I aren’t the focus of the photo, but we’re caught in the background of some posing gala attendees, and someone has clearly cropped it to zoom in on us.
It feels strange seeing it from this angle.
In the memories I’ve been replaying since Sloane’s driver dropped me home last night, the only thing I can really remember is the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I made the decision and the look of shock on Asher’s face.
In this photo, I looked crazed. My eyes are wide and frantic, and I’m gripping the glass with such an intensity, I’m surprised I didn’t shatter the damn thing in my hands.
‘You threw a drink in the man’s face, Imani. A drink!’
‘Technically, I threw it at his chest.’
My father blinks at me. ‘Is this a joke to you?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure? Because you’re sure as hell acting like it is. Do I have to remind you about what is on the line here?’
‘A deal,’ I say listlessly. Every time I’m reminded as to why I’ve had to resort to these lengths, my heart breaks a little more. ‘There’s a deal on the line. That’s all.’
He opens his mouth and then closes it tightly, his lips spreading into a thin grimace.
‘I’m assuming you’ll make a lot of money if the deal with Georgios goes through,’ I decide to continue since he hasn’t responded. ‘But we already have a lot of money, Daddy. Is my happiness really worth a little more?’
I’ve never thought of my father as the Jeff Bezos type, the kind of business magnate who hoards money like a dragon.
He started Peregrine Airways because he genuinely loves the skies and delivering a service to our customers that no other airline has even come close to replicating.
For as long as I’ve had sentience, I’ve known that our riches have been a happy, and very welcomed, second-place prize to simply being the best of the best in the industry. But that’s changed too, it seems.
‘How many lectures have you given me about quality over quantity?’ I ask.
My father didn’t even start flying internationally for the first ten years of Peregrine Airways, preferring to perfect the service we delivered here before he ventured into international airspace.
‘How many companies have you watched fail because their founders started chasing profits over delivering a service people actually love to use? And yet you’re hellbent on getting this deal with Georgios Vouvalis, of all people, over the line?
You’re mad at me because of what happened last night, but how many sordid stories are there about Georgios out there?
How many times has he had his face plastered over the trade papers because he ripped off a partner or got caught cutting corners in the expansion of his hotel empire?
Is that really what you want to be attached you?
What you want to attach the Peregrine Airways name to? ’
By the time I’m finished my impromptu speech, I’m breathing heavily.
The pillow I clutched earlier has fallen to the wayside and my hands are balled into tight little fists by my side.
I hadn’t even realised this was something I felt so passionate about, but I guess it makes sense.
I may not have a real role at the company, but it’s been my big sister, looming over my life for as long as I can remember.
I love it just as much as my father does, and the thought of him diluting what he’s created just for a few extra zeroes on his tax return come April is enough to make my vision blur with unshed tears.
‘Imani…’
I look up, daring to feel just a smidge of hope. He said my name with some warmth, with respect. That’s the father I know and love.
‘You just don’t understand.’
‘Then help me,’ I plead. ‘I want to understand.’
He shakes his head. ‘The less you know, the better.’
Alarm bells start to ring. ‘What do you—’
‘All you need to know is that the Vouvalis deal will secure not only our comfort for the rest of our lives, but for your children too. And your children’s children. Entire generations of Davies’ will never have to know what hardship is, as long as you play your part now.’
I turn frantically to my mother, hoping she’ll jump in, but she studiously avoids my gaze and is instead pretending like her shoes are the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen.
My father lets out a long sigh. ‘But I can’t have you behaving like this. The damage you’ve done to the Davies name in just one night?’ He shakes his head and I just about manage to resist the urge to grin. This is it. He’s about to do a U-turn on this whole ridiculous scheme.
‘I’ll talk to Georgios.’
My lips twitch. Come on, say it. Say it. Say it! Say you’ll find a different way to get your shareholders and investors on board with a Vouvalis merger. A way that doesn’t involve me and Asher.
‘And arrange a time and place for you and Asher to do some damage control.’
The world starts to spin. ‘Excuse me?’ I rasp, because that is definitely not where I thought we were heading.
He nods to himself and begins pacing my living room again. ‘You two will meet somewhere public, a restaurant perhaps. Somewhere you’ll be seen and noticed by the right people. You’ll make amends and begin repairing the relationship.’
‘Daddy—’
‘We’ll float that this was just a lovers’ spat, exacerbated by stress. You’re both very embarrassed that it played out in public as it did, but you’re still committed to one another and—’
‘Daddy,’ I say, louder this time. My voice comes out weak and wobbly and I will myself to not start crying. I won’t give him the satisfaction. ‘I am not marrying Asher Vouvalis. Not for you. Not for any imaginary future children. Not for anyone. I won’t do it.’