1. Knox #3
My father’s eyes moved to me, a hard expression on his face. Unsurprised that I was the one asking, probably. “Equity. And a personal connection between our families.”
The table went quiet while they all focused on their food.
But I mulled his answer over, something about it not sitting right. “What kind of personal connection?”
My father set his fork down and folded his hands on the table.
Good, maybe he’ll finally get to the fucking point.
“He has a daughter. Ella. Twenty-two, finishing up school this year. Her father wants to see her with someone he can trust. Someone from a family he’s doing business with.
” He paused. “Someone who can make her feel taken care of.”
The word someone sat in the middle of the table like a grenade with the pin already pulled.
Owen put his fork down slowly. “You’re asking one of us to date her?”
“I’m asking one of you to be available to her.
To spend time with her. Make a good impression.
” My father’s tone stayed even, almost reasonable, which had been a red flag for a while now.
“Moretti is offering us something we can’t get anywhere else.
The least we can do is show him we’re serious about this relationship. ”
Owen looked at me. I looked at my mother. She was poking at her food, using it as a distraction. Not that I thought she’d speak up for her sons. She’s too intimidated by my father.
“Which one of us?” Owen asked.
My father looked at him with a brow raised. “You.”
Owen’s jaw tightened. It was the first real crack in all that ease, but he knew to keep it controlled when it came to our father. Owen never really did lose his temper. He left that for me to do.
“I can’t do that.”
My father’s expression didn’t change. “Owen. This isn’t a negotiation.”
“I’m serious.” He pushed his plate forward. “I’m with Sawyer. You know that. I’m not going to—”
“I don’t give a damn about the Thorne girl,” my father interrupted. “This isn’t about her.”
“It is, though.” Owen kept his voice level, speaking in a tone that made everyone agree that he knew what he was talking about, that he was easygoing, and reasonable. It always worked in his favor. “I love her, Dad. I’m not going to date some other girl.”
“No one is asking you to fall in love with her.” My father’s voice dropped half a register. “I’m asking you to have dinner with her. To be present. To make Moretti believe this family values what he’s offering.”
“Then find another way to make him believe it.” Owen picked his fork back up, which somehow pissed me off. How calm he was. The finality in his action. In his eyes, the conversation was over. “I won’t do it. I’m sorry.”
Silence stretched across the table.
My father turned his head and looked at me.
He didn’t have to say a word. The shift of his gaze from one son to the other, and the silence that came with it told me everything I needed to know.
Owen picked up his wine and settled back into his chair. He’d said his piece and meant it and he was done. Nothing left for him to say.
He had Sawyer. He had his reason.
I had nothing.
My father poured the rest of the wine into his glass, set the empty bottle down, and slid his fingertips along the rim.
“I’ve already arranged dinner,” he said. “Tomorrow night. Moretti, his wife, Ella. All four of us.”
Owen glanced at me with something like sympathy in his eyes. “And if Knox refuses?”
My father scoffed. “Knox will do what needs to be done. Won’t you, son?”
I made them wait a few breaths while we all sat in silence. My mother’s eyes darted from her wine glass to me, Owen flat out stared, and my father was sliding a bite of mashed potatoes between his lips like he already knew the answer to his question.
The worst part was that he was right.
I thought about saying no. I sat with the word in my mouth for a moment, imagined what it would cost me. The company. The contracts. The careful, fragile scaffolding my father had spent years rebuilding while drinking himself half to death in the process.
I thought about my mother’s shaking hands. The way she’d gone somewhere else behind her eyes. The way she may not handle another fracture in our foundation.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
Owen looked down at his plate. I didn’t know if he was relieved or disgusted. In the end, it didn’t matter what he thought. I’d always do what needed to be done, even if it gutted me in the process.
My father raised his glass in my direction, giving the smallest possible gesture of acknowledgment, and drank.
I reached for my own wine and finished it in one long gulp. The rest of the dinner was quiet. My mother stood to clear the dishes, and Owen announced he had to leave, that he had plans. My father moved on from wine to whiskey, eventually heading into his study.
And I sat there, trying not to think about what tomorrow would bring.
I opened my app and watched Sawyer’s little blue dot across town, exactly where it was supposed to be, knowing she was completely unaware that I’d just agreed to something that was going to destroy us both.