Chapter 16
Samuel trailed behind Ophelia as she made her way down the hall to her father’s corner office at the top of the building.
She wrung her hands like she was already being scolded.
What kind of man was her father to have her so upset?
It was good he had ignored her attempts to leave him behind. She should not face this alone.
It hadn’t been an exaggeration—though he could do that now—when he told her that he was obsessed with her. He didn’t want to be separated from her and disliked every moment she was out of his sight. He belonged wherever she was.
Her father’s office was not as opulent as Sam would have expected from the CEO of a major company like Optima.
If anything, it was Spartan: all chrome and polished concrete, with a heavy-looking desk of ornate Jacobean design that looked completely out of place among the industrial modernity.
He sat behind it in a high-backed leather office chair, not even bothering to look up as they entered.
His influence over Ophelia’s genes was immediately clear.
It had been a struggle to find anything of Ophelia in her mother, but her father had the same gray eyes and perpetually downturned mouth.
His hair was a shade darker and threaded through with silver at the temples.
Ophelia stopped a few feet from the desk and cleared her throat. Her father’s mouth thinned.
“Um… Hi, Dad,” she said.
At length, he looked up from his holotab, peering through the translucent screen of his holographic computer display.
“Ophelia.” He flicked his fingers, dismissing the computer display. “What are you doing here?”
She fidgeted, picking at the cuticle of her thumb until it bled. “Mom sent me.”
He sat back and let out a weary sigh as he gestured to the matching chairs parallel to his desk. “Sit.”
Like an obedient dog, she complied, falling into the seat more than sitting in it. Sam moved to take the chair next to her, and her father’s eyes met his.
“Who is your guest?”
“This is Samuel,” she offered, faltering. “He’s my… he…”
“I’m private security,” he said smoothly, offering a hand to the man.
After a moment of disdainful staring, the CEO grasped his hand firmly and shook it once.
“Are you having troubles, Ophelia?” Her father’s attention shifted back to her as he rested his elbows against his desk. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “Oh, I… didn’t want to bother you. It’s nothing major, really.”
Her father’s mien turned skeptical. “Yet major enough to warrant the salary of a private bodyguard?”
She shifted restlessly, and Sam realized that for someone who had possessed the ability all her life, she was a hopeless liar.
“There have been some threats made online,” Sam said. “The upcoming demo of the next generation of Automata androids has garnered attention from the People First movement, and Ophelia’s connection to Logan has directed some of their ire at her.”
She gaped at him in a way that would surely give away the ruse if she didn’t stop.
“People First,” she murmured, her brows furrowing.
They were a group of extremists who wanted to put a stop to all automation, but especially to androids. Some of their ilk believed the robots were going to put everyone out of work, while others believed them to be part of the devil’s work, sent to tempt humanity toward depravity.
“Is this true?” Her obvious surprise was not lost on her father.
She shifted nervously in her seat. “Y-yes. That’s right. I’m sure it will all die down after the demo.” She shot Sam another incredulous look.
“You will let me know if it doesn’t.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, though she looked perturbed by the suggestion.
“Well?” Her father spread his hands wide, expression inscrutable. “What does your mother want now?”
Ophelia’s shoulders rounded, and she tucked her hands between her thighs. “She can’t afford her rent,” she said in a small voice. “The cost of living has increased. She was hoping you might be willing to increase her alimony payments.”
“Was she?”
Ophelia tucked her chin and looked up at her father from beneath her lashes.
He sagged in his seat, rubbing the deep lines between his brows. “You can tell her I will not be paying her a penny more than what’s mandated by the court.”
Ophelia wilted further, but she nodded.
Sam’s hand flexed against his thigh as he resisted the urge to reach for her in comfort.
“You can also tell her that if she attempts to use you to manipulate me again, I will take her back to court and challenge that very generous payment she receives each month until all she can afford to live in is a refrigerator box in an alley.”
His daughter’s eyes widened at that. “Oh, please don’t—”
“Don’t beg on her account,” he snapped. “You’re too old to be this na?ve.
The last thing that woman needs is your pity.
Don’t let her fool you into thinking that she can’t make it on her own, that you’re somehow obligated to tend to her.
Your mother will find her way in this world one way or another. You can bet on that.”
She looked down at her hands, twisting the hem of her shirt, but she didn’t argue.
Her father’s stormy eyes softened. “If it weren’t for you, I would never have let her get away with that damn alimony payment in the first place. Now that you’re no longer in her care, I have half a mind to contest it on principle.”
She sucked in a breath, clearly ready to implore him again despite his objections, but he raised a hand to stay her.
“But I won’t,” he said, “as I know it would distress you. Calm down.”
She sagged back against the carved back of her chair in relief. “Thank you.”
He nodded tightly. His holopad flashed twice in quick succession, drawing his gaze. “I have a meeting to attend. Can you see yourself out?”
“Yes, of course.” She rose stiffly, hugging her elbows to her chest.
Sam couldn’t resist the temptation to press a hand to the middle of her back, gratified when she swayed toward him, clearly hungry for the consolation he longed to give her.
“Ophelia?” her father called out just as they reached the door.
Woodenly, she turned back to him. “Yes?”
“Don’t only come by when you need something from me.”
“Oh. Of course. I’m sorry.”
“Come by for lunch sometime. How’s two weeks from now?”
Her eyes widened. “Sure, that’s… that’s good.”
“I’ll see you then.” He looked back down at his holotab.
Ophelia held her breath as they walked back to the elevator. She looked up at him when they were alone. “That went… surprisingly well.”
“It did? But he refused your request.”
“Yeah, I kind of knew he would,” she said, watching the digital floor numbers tick down. “But he invited me to lunch.”
“And you like that idea? Even though he clearly intimidates you?”
“He’s my dad,” she said simply, as though it explained everything.
At his confused look, she sighed.
“I know he’s not a good person.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And I don’t even think he’s a particularly good father, but…
he’s the only one I have. I didn’t get to choose.
It doesn’t make sense, but I don’t think it has to.
He’s my dad, so I love him. I want him to love me. It’s… elemental.”
Sam tried to relate. The closest thing to a parent he had would be his creators, but he felt no similar affection for them now that he was freed of his moral bindings. They were just people who had contributed to his existence for their own gain.
The soft, crooning elevator music filled the silence that fell between them as Sam tried to make sense of her reaction.
“I’m glad you came,” she said suddenly, looking up at him with a tender expression. “It helped. I didn’t feel so small with you sitting next to me.”
Her brows climbed, and her teeth clicked shut, as though her affectionate words had surprised her as much as they did him. He leaned toward her, intent on rewarding her with a toe-curling kiss, but the door binged open.
She ducked away from him in a hurry, skittering out of the elevator.