Page 19 of Ruthless Lord

“Albert told me you wanted to talk.” Some of my confidence starts to drain away as my father smiles like he knows something I don’t.

“Yes, that’s correct. Come, take a seat.” He gestures at another chair set off to the side. Out of the “sweet spot,” the place in the room where the music sounds the best. Since guests don’t deserve that experience.

I hesitate but end up shuffling over as he continues to glare at me. I sink down into the seat, perched on the edge.

“You smell like smoke and alcohol,” he says, nose wrinkling.

“What do you want, Dad?”

“I thought we might have a friendly conversation.”

I laugh once, even though it’s not funny. “We haven’t had a friendly anything since Grandfather named me as his heir.”

Dad’s frown somehow deepens. He’s good at looking disappointed. I’ve been finding new ways to make his face look pissed all my life, but it never fails to amaze me how many new expressions he has for sheer and utter disgust.

“There’s no need to bring that into this now,” he says softly. “I only wanted to ask you about your evening. Did you have a nice time at the warehouse?”

I keep my chin raised, even while inwardly I’m freaking out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come now, Charlotte. We both know I receive updates on the happenings at our business. From what I hear, you had a very interesting night.”

Anger grips me. I really need to stay under control, but I can’t help myself. “Sounds like you already know what happened to me. Not going to ask how I’m doing?”

His eyebrows lift in mock surprise. “I didn’t know you needed that. Seems you were already taken care of.”

I could puke. I really hope that isn’t innuendo coming from my own father. “Someone helped me, if that’s what you mean, no thanks to your asshole security team.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “I’m sure they would’ve gotten to you eventually.”

“Right, after I was stabbed to death. Which would’ve been nice for you, right? One less daughter and one less problem.”

“The thought had occurred.”

“What do you want, Dad?”

He sighs dramatically and gets up. I keep myself under control and refuse to let him see me squirm. I’m exhausted from having sex for most of the night and still aching between my legs, and I’m deeply aware of how badly I need to shower. But I don’t let any of that show on my face.

Give this man a glimpse of weakness and he’ll pounce.

“Do you know who it is you went home with last night?” He takes the record off the turntable and puts it back into its sleeve.

“I know the man who helped me is named Stefano.”

“That’s right. Stefano Bianchi.” He slips the record back into the wall, carefully and lovingly running his fingers over the spines. I don’t think he’s ever looked at me like that a single time in my life. I’ve been letting him down since the day I was born, and that’ll never change. “A very dangerous man, by all accounts. And what, twenty years older than you?”

I grimace slightly and have to look away. I didn’t realize he was that much older than me…

“What’s it matter how old he is? Stefano saved my life.”

“I suppose it’s good you thanked him so thoroughly then.”

That’s a step too far. I stand up, blazing with rage. I’m aware of how precarious this situation is, but I can’t help myself. “If all you’re going to do is make baseless accusations?—”

Dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Baseless? Oh, Charlotte. You should know me better than that by now.”

My stomach drops. Because I really do know him. Maybe better than anyone in the world. My father is a snake and a slime. He’s rotten mold at the bottom of a leaking bathtub. He’ll kill without a second thought so long as it gets him what he wants.

And all he wants is my inheritance.