Page 42 of Play for Power (Central Sparks #3)

maybe i should give a few more fucks

Rosie

D ad is pissed.

Actually, no. Pissed isn’t the right word. Maybe, volcanic eruption, like mass destruction level raging. And how do I know this? He’s smiling at me.

I’m no fool—or perhaps I am, considering I ignored him—I know the smile is just a facade, a carefully constructed mask, similar to the ones I’m always wearing.

His are for the paparazzi that have recognized him crashing the party and are snapping pictures.

Anything to keep the general public from seeing what a tyrant he truly is.

When I’m standing in front of him, his smile hardens.

Though the corners don’t drop, I can see the bulging veins in his neck and forehead from the sheer effort it takes for him to control it.

But I refuse to let him see me sweat, refuse to show any fear or tremble.

I simply square my shoulders and try my best to keep my chin high.

I lower my eyes only because, to him, that is respect rather than a sign of weakness.

And while I despise this man and definitely don’t respect him, there is a ten-year-old inside me who desperately wishes he’d respect me back.

That he’d tell me he was proud of me for the award and promotion.

Editor in chief.

All my dreams came true tonight. Everything I worked for over the last however long, and none of it matters in this moment. In his eyes, I’ve never mattered.

“ Padré ,” I say in greeting, and it feels as though his entire presence rumbles, like the ground beneath us shakes with the anger raging from him.

“You seek to undermine me, Rosita.”

“That’s not?—”

“Silence,” he hisses, his words lashing across my face and I have to physically stop myself from flinching.

“You will speak when spoken to. I cannot believe you are my daughter. That you have deliberately disobeyed me. Are you happy with yourself?” His words are mocking, and though I know it’s a rhetorical question and he wants me to beg for forgiveness, to regret my actions, I refuse.

Instead, I let my eyes shine with my anger as I look up and stare straight back at him.

“Yes. I’m ecstatic, in fact.” His face is beet red, the corners of his fake smile dropping, and I don’t know how he moves so quick, but he does. Gripping my arm painfully, he yanks me down the entrance steps.

“Hey!” I feel my shoulders drop from the sheer relief at hearing Caleb’s voice shout from the entrance of the building. My father jerks to a stop, dropping his hand from where he holds me.

When we spin back in Caleb’s direction, he’s storming down the stairs behind us, looking adorably like a man on a mission.

I can’t stop the way my heart speeds up as he eats up the distance between us.

He stops far enough away that he can’t hear my father whisper the insults at him, but close enough I can see the way his eyes latch onto my arm, where my dad had held me and dragged me.

“I have no more patience for you and your games tonight, Rosita. Get in the car.” My father spits his words low while I continue to stare at Caleb.

Seeing his eyes, begging me to be the version of myself that he knows me to be, it gives me the boost I needed.

I let a little smirk break my frown and I raise my chin.

Something about the look of pride shining in Caleb’s eyes has my chest tightening.

“And I have no more patience for your rules and demands, old man,” I retort low, just for Dad, but keeping my eyes on Caleb.

I feel my father bristle beside me, gearing up for another show of dominance, but I don’t let him.

There is one thing my dad prides over money and control, and it’s status.

No way he shows his true colors with onlookers.

“Well, hurry up then.” I wave an annoyed hand at Caleb, letting him know he can continue. His smile is instant and he jogs the rest of the way down to me.

“What’s going on, Rosie?” he asks quietly, taking my hand and subtly running a thumb over my knuckles, his eyes searching mine for answers.

“Just follow my lead, okay? It’s just like any other game.

Will you play with me?” I whisper up at him, hoping my fake smile and mask are hiding the genuine worry over dragging him into my world.

I don’t know why I feel like I need him with me right now, but the relief I felt at his interruption.

I felt stronger, almost whole, when he appeared at the top of those stairs, and I could really use that right now.

I squeeze his hand, watching him heave a breath, and bury the million other questions I know he has.

“ Padré , this is Caleb.” I gesture to Caleb before looking in his direction and continuing, “Caleb, this is my father, Antonio Garcia.” I watch him reach a hand in front of us to shake it, and I wince, knowing it won’t be returned.

I watch in horror as my father looks at his hand and practically snarls at Caleb until he retreats.

Caleb clears his throat, his usually solid wall of confidence slightly shaken, and I squeeze his hand again in silent apology.

God, this was a mistake. Why did I have to drag him into this?

What a fucking shit storm.

Go to the gala, Rosie.

Have a fun night with your friends, Rosie.

Win the promotion, get asked to interview with Forbes, and watch all your dreams come true, Rosie.

When I go to turn to tell Caleb that this was a mistake and he should go back inside, he squeezes my hand back, and when I look at him, he wears a seething expression, dripping in contempt and disdain as he shoots daggers at the man who gave me half my DNA.

It’s not just the equal hate he openly displays though, it’s the arrogant smirk that comes with it, the facade I’m sure he’s perfected over time.

He wears it brilliantly…and it’s so fucking sexy.

“He was part of the rebrand of Andersen Schulz and Meyers,” I continue, shaking myself out of my appreciation of Caleb. “He managed the whole thing actually, he helped put together this gala.”

He narrows his eyes at me in a snarl before they go to the building behind us.

“Mmm, your little gala.” His scrutiny finds me again and I try my hardest to keep my confidence firmly in place.

“You mean the reason you decided to completely ghost your family and avoid your duty?” His smile is hollow, lacking all the warmth of Caleb’s grins, and I suddenly miss just staring up at Caleb’s face, the way he glows with pride and affection for me.

I never wanted to rely on someone else’s opinion of me, but right now, I wouldn’t mind just a little bit of that.

My words are stuck in my throat, the two sides of me fighting against each other.

I want to shut him down, to embrace who I am and tell him to shove his attitude up his ass, along with duty and responsibilities .

To tell him that I want no part of any of it, and if it means he cuts me off, then so be it…

But it’s the unknown of what happens after that stops me.

The panic of not being in control, of losing everything because I haven’t the slightest idea of who I really am and how much he controls my so-called freedom. So, I don’t say anything at all.

“Actually,” Caleb starts, interrupting my panicking thoughts and making me straighten with a different kind of fear, “Rosie was awarded the promotion.” He squeezes my hand again, finally dropping the sour look from the man in front of us and locking me into the depths of his deep blue eyes.

“You’re now looking at the next editor in chief of the sole romance imprint at Andersen Schultz and Meyers.

” His smile is full of pride and I have to physically stop the smile that wants to free itself, and stop myself from kissing him stupid.

His eyes trail over every part of me before he latches back onto my gaze, seemingly deeper in their intensity.

“She was awarded employee of the year for her list of best sellers and her eye for detail, as well as being labeled a young editor to watch. That’s almost unheard of at her age.

” His words are gentle, and I’m nearly bouncing on my feet in excitement, just remembering the feeling of when Chris made the announcement, of seeing my face on the banner behind the stage, of hearing everyone clap for me, to have my achievements recognized, that I did this through hard work and dedication and not because of my last name or my money.

“I hope you’re proud, Rosebud, because I am,” he continues, quieter, though I am certain my father heard, I’m just struggling to care right now.

My lips fold into my mouth to stop the giggle working its way up my throat. I want to dance, I want to leap on him, but I can’t. Instead, I pull him a little closer, scrunch my nose up at him playfully, and I think I actually am bouncing on my feet when I let him know the even better news.

I keep my voice low enough that it’s just for him.

“And did you know Forbes approached me tonight? They want to profile me for the ‘30 under 30’ feature.” He throws his head back in a disbelieving laugh, his smile bright and contagious as he pulls me into an embrace, wrapping his arms around me…

and I go rigid. I wasn’t expecting…this.

I have the gnawing sensation of wanting to turn and run.

By rule of thumb, I don’t cuddle. But…I’ve also never had someone want to hold me.

I’ve not had someone just enjoy having me in their arms. This doesn’t feel normal; it’s not what I expected.

And yet…the longer he holds me to his chest…

it’s almost starting to feel…right. Especially when he whispers his sweet words, right into my ear, “I’m so fucking proud of you, pretty girl. ”