Page 21
Story: Mile High Daddy
He stands, his presence immediately dominating the room. “It’s not what I want, Lila. It’s about what’s best for you.”
“Best for me?” I repeat, incredulous. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me anymore.”
He steps closer, his expression softening just slightly, though his voice remains firm. “I’m still your father, Lila. Whether you like it or not.”
I take a step back, my chest tightening as a hundred questions race through my mind. Why is he here? What does he really want? And most importantly,where is Mikhail?
“What are you doing in my hotel room?” I ask.
Dad doesn’t answer right away. He studies me as if he’s trying to decide how much to say.
“And where’s Mikhail?” I add, my stomach twisting as I look around the room, desperate for some kind of answer.
The men beside him remain silent, their imposing presence like shadows creeping closer. I force myself to meet my father’s gaze, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
He exhales slowly, like he’s trying to keep his composure. “It wasn’t his place to bring you here,” he says finally, his voice calm but laced with an edge I recognize all too well. “He should have known better.”
The words hit me like a punch, and my heart sinks.He knows Mikhail.
“But, nothing to be done now,” he continues, his tone colder. “He’s done his job.”
“His…job?” I repeat, my chest tightening. “You know Mikhail?”
Dad’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, maybe, or guilt. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that unreadable mask he always wears.
“You don’t understand, Lila,” he says, his tone softer now, like he’s trying to placate me.
I shake my head, the room spinning around me. “No, I don’t understand. What the hell is going on? Why are you here? Why aretheyhere?” I nod toward the two men, who remain silent but watchful.
“Lila,” he says, stepping closer. “Calm down?—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I snap, panic rising in my chest. “First I wake up and Mikhail’s gone, and now you’re here, acting like…like this is normal!”
Dad’s expression hardens, and he takes another step closer, his tone lowering. “You’ve stepped into a world you don’t fully understand yet. But trust me, everything I’ve done has been for your benefit.”
“My benefit?” I laugh bitterly, the sound harsh and raw. “You disappear from my life for years, and now you’re in my hotel room talking about what’s best for me? Spare me.”
His eyes narrow slightly, his calm demeanor slipping. “Lila, you don’t know what’s at stake here.”
“And whose fault is that?” I shoot back.
The tension in the room is suffocating, my pulse pounding in my ears as I try to piece together the fragments of what’s happening.
He straightens, clasping his hands in front of him like this is some kind of business meeting.
“I’ve arranged your marriage,” he says, like a judge handing down a verdict.
“Excuse me?” I say, my brows furrowed. I must have misheard him.
“You heard me.”
The room tilts. For a moment, I can’t breathe.
“No. No. No. No,” I say. “You can’t be serious.” I stagger back and grip the counter for support. My knees feel like they might give out.
His expression doesn’t waver. “I am.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head furiously. “No, this isn’t the eighteen hundreds! You don’t get toarrangemy marriage!”
“Best for me?” I repeat, incredulous. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me anymore.”
He steps closer, his expression softening just slightly, though his voice remains firm. “I’m still your father, Lila. Whether you like it or not.”
I take a step back, my chest tightening as a hundred questions race through my mind. Why is he here? What does he really want? And most importantly,where is Mikhail?
“What are you doing in my hotel room?” I ask.
Dad doesn’t answer right away. He studies me as if he’s trying to decide how much to say.
“And where’s Mikhail?” I add, my stomach twisting as I look around the room, desperate for some kind of answer.
The men beside him remain silent, their imposing presence like shadows creeping closer. I force myself to meet my father’s gaze, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
He exhales slowly, like he’s trying to keep his composure. “It wasn’t his place to bring you here,” he says finally, his voice calm but laced with an edge I recognize all too well. “He should have known better.”
The words hit me like a punch, and my heart sinks.He knows Mikhail.
“But, nothing to be done now,” he continues, his tone colder. “He’s done his job.”
“His…job?” I repeat, my chest tightening. “You know Mikhail?”
Dad’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, maybe, or guilt. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that unreadable mask he always wears.
“You don’t understand, Lila,” he says, his tone softer now, like he’s trying to placate me.
I shake my head, the room spinning around me. “No, I don’t understand. What the hell is going on? Why are you here? Why aretheyhere?” I nod toward the two men, who remain silent but watchful.
“Lila,” he says, stepping closer. “Calm down?—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I snap, panic rising in my chest. “First I wake up and Mikhail’s gone, and now you’re here, acting like…like this is normal!”
Dad’s expression hardens, and he takes another step closer, his tone lowering. “You’ve stepped into a world you don’t fully understand yet. But trust me, everything I’ve done has been for your benefit.”
“My benefit?” I laugh bitterly, the sound harsh and raw. “You disappear from my life for years, and now you’re in my hotel room talking about what’s best for me? Spare me.”
His eyes narrow slightly, his calm demeanor slipping. “Lila, you don’t know what’s at stake here.”
“And whose fault is that?” I shoot back.
The tension in the room is suffocating, my pulse pounding in my ears as I try to piece together the fragments of what’s happening.
He straightens, clasping his hands in front of him like this is some kind of business meeting.
“I’ve arranged your marriage,” he says, like a judge handing down a verdict.
“Excuse me?” I say, my brows furrowed. I must have misheard him.
“You heard me.”
The room tilts. For a moment, I can’t breathe.
“No. No. No. No,” I say. “You can’t be serious.” I stagger back and grip the counter for support. My knees feel like they might give out.
His expression doesn’t waver. “I am.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head furiously. “No, this isn’t the eighteen hundreds! You don’t get toarrangemy marriage!”
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