Chapter 1 #2
“Welcome, Gary. How lovely to see your wife with you tonight. And these must be the infamous Campbell children back from St Andrew’s.
Come, come. Let me take a look at you.” His smarmy smile makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, nausea rising in my throat.
I follow Peter, who is positively beaming as he shakes the older man’s hand, and it’s not long before I’m standing in front of him, Freya trying to hide behind me.
His grey eyes roam over me, darkening as he takes in my exposed décolletage and legs.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he looks me over, and while it disgusts me, it’s a price I’d happily pay a thousand times if it keeps his eyes off Freya.
Unfortunately, she whimpers behind me, drawing his attention to her.
As his eyes flick between us, like a predator weighing up who will be his prey first, I swallow down the urge to step in front of her.
Doing so would only result in drawing even more attention to her.
“Why, you girls could be twins! How fascinating.” He smirks before turning his attention to Father.
For a blissful second, I get a lungful of air without his attention or cloying cologne clogging my senses.
As we follow him inside, the door clicking closed behind us, the walls start to feel like they are closing in around me.
Fighting back my rising anxiety, I remind myself I just have to get through this dinner.
After this, it’ll all be over. Just get through dinner. It’s only a few hours. I can do this.
I don’t know who I’m trying to kid. Any hope of this being just a dinner was snuffed out the moment Angus’ name was thrown into the mix.
As we file into the dining room, Angus and Father help themselves to the seats at the heads of the table, leaving us to fill the spaces between them.
Mother and Peter are quick to take the seats closest to Father, forcing me and Freya to sit beside Angus. So much for one final meal.
“Gary, remind me again why I asked you here?” The thinly veiled glee in Angus’ voice would alert even the most oblivious person to the fact that something is brewing.
Grinding my molars, I keep my gaze fixed squarely on the table, my thoughts to myself.
Maybe if I remain quiet, they’ll forget I’m here.
“I believe you wanted to discuss how I plan to repay your, ah...generosity.” Father clears his throat. If it wasn’t for what’s looming, I would take great joy in his obvious discomfort for once. Why should he get to be comfortable while my life slips away in front of my eyes?
“That’s right. How silly of me to forget.
If memory serves, you cost me quite a lot of money, Mr Campbell, more than you can afford.
” At his raised eyebrow, Mother shifts uncomfortably while Peter watches the back and forth with wide, glee filled eyes.
Before either of them can say anything else, a server comes in carrying our starters—salads for the women, and soup with a hearty bread roll for the men.
The toxic masculinity in this place never fails to amaze me.
The tension in the room does little to Father or Angus’ appetite, their bowls cleared in minutes while I push my dry lettuce around my plate.
The thought of trying to push anything down around the lump in my throat sounds as appetising as eating dirt.
I’m jerked out of my thoughts when a heavy hand, adorned in gold rings, lands on top of my own.
Freezing my movements, I look up to meet Angus’ stare head on.
I might be sick to my stomach to be near him, but I’ll be damned if I show him that.
“Something wrong? Your mother assured me Caesar salad, minus that awful dressing, of course, is your favourite.” I barely hold my snort in. As if she would know what I like. I can’t even remember the last meal we had together as a family.
“Of course not. I’m just not overly hungry. I thought I’d be best saving room for the main course.” I smile at him, all prim and proper, like the perfect mafia daughter I’ve been raised to be. With a self-satisfied smirk, he sits back in his seat, eyes pinned to my chest.
Considering he’s at least twenty years my senior, and my eighteenth birthday wasn’t even a week ago, the act is disgusting.
What’s worse, however, is when he turns his attention to my woefully underage sister.
Breathing through my nose, I count to five in my head.
Stabbing him with my fork is not an option, no matter how much I want it to be.
“Sir. If there’s something…other than money I can offer, I would be happy to,” Father’s voice cuts across the room, drawing Angus’ attention back up to him and away from Freya, who trembles in her seat.
“Hmm, well now that you mention it…I am in need of something quite special.” The emphasis he puts on special as he looks at me is enough to seal my fate, even before the next words are out of his mouth .
“I need an heir. Young Helen here would make a wonderful bride and mother, don’t you think?”