11. Aeris
Aeris
What was the point of Caden being built like a wall if he couldn’t even shield me from my own father?
“Tristan,” I greeted cooly, but only because ignoring his existence would provoke a reaction I had no patience to deal with.
His jaw tightened at the deliberate use of his name, but he let it pass.
Instead, my sperm donor glanced at Caden, and I almost laughed at the clear animosity between them without either uttering a single word.
Tristan had that effect on people. There was a reason he was good at what he did, his presence alone enough to unsettle even the most seasoned criminal.
Thankfully, Caden didn’t scare easily. I was almost grateful he’d positioned himself between us, though I knew it had been instinct, not sentiment.
I probably shouldn’t have kissed him. But even I had moments of panicked madness.
I didn’t trust he wouldn’t use my surprise at seeing my father after so long to his advantage, so I’d kissed him to keep his focus on me and away from the man who I hated with every cell in my body.
Tristan’s head dipped closer, and I fought the urge to step further behind Caden. “Aeris, we need to talk.”
Refusal was at the tip of my tongue, but I needed him to be dealt with before he made a scene. Handing Caden my champagne, I gave him a small smile. “Always a pleasure.”
His expression tightened, but he said nothing as I moved away with my father following closely behind. Tristan Murdock was a tall man, all sharp tailoring and classical good looks, the kind that had earned him four daughters across three different wives.
Women were drawn to him because of his face and power, but they left because they could never compete against his true love. The courtroom. The satisfaction of dismantling someone piece by piece under fluorescent lights and public scrutiny.
“You haven’t been returning my calls,” he said, his voice lowering to a private whisper as he guided us into the corner.
“That’s because I want nothing to do with you,” I replied evenly. “Take the hint, Tristan.” He’d aged since I’d last seen him, grey threading through his dark hair while wrinkles were more prominent between his brows. Probably because he frowned so fucking much.
“I think this tantrum has gone on long enough.”
My skin prickled with heat. “Tantrum?” I let out a laugh that held no trace of humour. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“You’ve made your point,” he muttered, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. “Please. Stop acting like a child.”
Child. The word ignited something sharp in my chest. I felt eyes on us, but I didn’t lower my voice. “I haven’t been a child for a very long time.”
He flinched at that, and I took a grim, private satisfaction in it, watching the man who could stare down crime lords in a courtroom recoil from the daughter he’d failed.
“Why are you even here?” I asked, already drained by his presence. “You and I both know you weren’t invited.” I felt eyes on my back, and I knew it was Caden. But I refused to turn, to acknowledge how unsettled I was that he was witnessing this.
Out of everyone, it just had to be him.
Tristan’s nostrils flared, and I had to give him credit. He didn’t so much as glance around the room. “Interesting company you’re keeping.”
I laughed louder than necessary, and his mouth tightened. “Go home, Tristan. Spend time with the children who actually want a relationship with you. Go dote on your grandchildren and let me go.”
“I can’t.” His jaw hardened. “You’re still my daughter. I’d like us to talk.”
“Talk about what? We don’t know each other.” Stepping back, I shook my head. “You made sure of that.” Turning away, my heels clicked on the floor as I put distance between us.
“Aeris?” his voice called behind me, but I was done with the conversation.
When he didn’t chase me down, I finally exhaled, clenching my fist to stop from shaking. Moving to the bar I ordered another champagne, savouring the bubbles against my tongue.
He had no right to be here. No right to corner me like he was still entitled to my time. My attention. My obedience.
I took another slow sip, forcing the irritation down. He didn’t get to rattle me. Not anymore. Not after all these years.
“A pretty lady shouldn’t be drinking alone,” a voice said to my right, and I immediately put on my most seductive smile.
“I’m not drinking alone,” I said, raising my glass to his. “I’m drinking with you.”
The man smirked, and I made sure to smooch my stool just a little closer. “Then the polite thing to do is introduce myself. I’m Kent.”