Chapter Thirty Asher
My father won’t stop pacing. He’s storming up and down the length of his office like a caged animal. I can practically see the vein in his neck pulsing under the collar of his shirt.
He’s been at it for at least ten minutes now, moving like a tornado back and forth behind his desk with a scowl so deep I’m half convinced it might actually be permanent. He’s yelling, of course. Words ricochet around the room, half in Greek, half in English, and all of it venom.
I keep my expression blank and wait for him to finish. If there’s one thing Georgios Vouvalis hates more than failure, it’s being interrupted while he’s in the middle of assigning blame for it.
‘Unbelievable,’ he mutters, still furiously pacing. ‘Completely unbelievable. A hundred different ways I was certain you’d be the one to ruin this, but Davies?’ He stops short, spinning towards me with a snarl I’m not sure I deserve. ‘I never imagined I’d have to worry about him.’
He’s talking, of course, about the fact that Peregrine Airways is broke and that Malcolm Davies has been stringing my father along, hoping for an injection of capital, for months now.
The story has been dominating the financial broadsheets and @TrustFundTea for the last week.
I’m surprised it’s taken my father this long to bring me in.
Not that I’m complaining; the more time I spend away from him, the better.
He finally stops in front of me, breath heaving, eyes wild and bloodshot like he hasn’t had a solid night’s sleep in days. ‘We’ll need to move quickly,’ he says.
I frown. ‘To do what?’
My father looks at me like he’d very much like to throw me out of the nearest window.
‘To do what?’ he parrots, scoffing with unrestrained distain.
‘Don’t play dumb with me. The entire deal has gone to hell.
We’ll need to find another partner. Maybe the Cavendish Group?
Or Farrow Capital? Do any of the CEOs there have daughters?
I suppose there’s that Italian heiress – what’s her name?
The one with the shipping dynasty. That could work. That might—’
I stare at him. For a second, I actually can’t process what he’s just said.
I was braced for a lot of things walking into this room, but the idea that my father would pivot to shopping me around like a piece of luxury real estate before the ashes of the last plan had even gone cold? That’s impressive, even for him.
He rattles off another name, this time a socialite from Monaco, and then starts muttering about her family’s yacht business. I honestly can’t tell if he’s talking to me or just to himself at this point.
‘So that’s it?’ I hear myself say finally, voice flat even to my own ears. ‘We’re just pretending none of the last six months happened?’
He waves a dismissive hand in my direction. ‘That’s how it works, Asher. You cut your losses and move on. I’m not going to waste another second on people who can’t keep up.’
I couldn’t care less about Malcolm Davies and the fate of Peregrine Airways, but—‘What about Imani?’
Georgios blinks at me. ‘What about her?’
The surge of irritation shooting through me is instant. ‘What about her?’ I repeat. ‘Because of your stupid plan with Davies, her name has been dragged through the mud for months.’
He shrugs. ‘That was your fault, not mine.’
‘We wouldn’t have had to go to those lengths if it wasn’t for—’
‘Why do you even care?’ he asks, sounding bored. ‘I thought you’d be happy you no longer have to be tied to her. You barely even know the girl, your—’ He cuts himself off and smirks at me. Your little evening together notwithstanding. I’m sure you’ll get over her quickly enough.’
I open my mouth to argue. To tell him he’s wrong and that I know Imani better than I’ve ever known anyone.
I know the rhythm of her laugh, the way her eyes soften right before she smiles, the quiet strength in her silences.
I know her the way I know my own heartbeat: steady, constant, and impossible to live without.
I love her.
God, I love her.
But I stop myself because he doesn’t deserve to know what that feels like, the warmth she brings into every corner of my life, the way she makes even the darkest parts of me feel bright.
My father narrows his eyes, waiting for me to break first, but I don’t. I just sit there in silence, and the truth that settles in my chest is a secret I’ll never give him the satisfaction of hearing.
He sighs and then shakes his head, like I’m not worth the effort. ‘Back to business. Since Davies has practically torched what was left of Peregrine, we’ll have to change tack. The Cavendish Group could still be a possibility. Or maybe the Watanabe Conglomerate – if their daughter’s still single.’
He says it like he’s browsing a menu.
My last bit of tolerance I have towards my father snaps.
‘Are you even listening to yourself?’ I ask. ‘You’re just going to line up the next heiress and hope that this one sticks? Is that really the plan?’
He looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time – which, to be fair, maybe he is.
I’ve spent the better part of two decades trying to make myself as unnoticeable as possible to avoid his ire.
But everything’s changed now. Maybe it’s the months I’ve spent with Imani and the realisation that there’s a version of life that doesn’t involve being bulldozed and bullied by this man. Or maybe I’m just tired.
I push back from the chair so suddenly it scrapes loudly against the floor. My father’s head snaps up, startled, and I savour the rare moment I’ve actually managed to throw him off balance.
‘I’m done,’ I say. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’
My father blinks at me in silence for several long seconds.
‘I quit,’ I say when the silence stretches on. ‘The company. The family. I don’t want anything to do with any of it.’
When he finally finds his voice, the words come out as a sneer. ‘If you walk out now, don’t even think about coming back. You’re finished. You won’t have a penny to your name, not a single asset, not a single share. Nothing. Do you understand what that means?’
I shrug, because, honestly, what else is left to take? ‘I’d rather have nothing than sell out for you again.’
His face goes red, then white, then a weird shade of purple I don’t even have a name for. But I don’t wait for his next threat. I turn, spine straight and pulse hammering, and walk out without looking back.