“It went very well, actually,” he said, trying to let out the breath that was caught deep in his chest. “Olivia is a very smart and beautiful woman. We had a lot to talk about.”
“That doesn’t tell me much,” Jennifer laughed. “Details, darling, please. I’ve waited so long to see you happy.”
Henry smiled, hoping he wouldn’t let his mother down too badly if this didn’t work out. He shot a glance at his father, but thankfully, the old man was keeping his mouth shut.
“Okay,” Henry said, pulling out his phone. “Here’s her Instagram page. These are the ones she runs for her clients.”
“Oh, my!” his mother exclaimed. “She is beautiful. Look at this, Nicholas.”
Henry held his breath again as his father looked at the screen. A dark scowl pulled down over his features, and Henry felt his own anger ignite inside him.
“Oh, look at these paintings. She really knows her stuff. Darling, look. She’s with that sculptor I told you about, the one who only has one hand. Stunning work. My word, she is just a genius.”
Jennifer stared into the phone like it was a magic mirror that could conjure Olivia with the whisper of her name. Henry’s eyes locked on to his father’s, and he felt the tension mount between them.
“She looks cheap,” his father said in that smooth tone that could not possibly cause offense. “I think she could be a gold digger, son. Best to stay away from her.”
Jennifer looked at him with disapproval. Henry scowled, knowing that to react to his father’s words would make himself look irrational.
“Stick to your own kind, Henry,” his father said, taking a sip of wine. “You can do better.”
Henry saw red for a few seconds. He tried to focus on his breathing and stay calm. His father’s tone was so even and dispassionate that it sounded like he was purchasing a new racehorse.
He gripped his fork, twisting it in his hand as he tried to ground himself. His mother chattered away, following all of Olivia’s pages from her own phone as if it was her way of defending the woman.
The main courses were put down. Henry felt a deep sense of relief. They’d be busy eating for a while, the shock would wear off, and then they’d leave.
Henry heard his father's cutlery scrape on the plate. Just when he thought he was safe, that even, reasonable tone soaked into him again like the cold water of an icy lake that was dragging him down into outright despair.
“Son, I must ask a serious question,” Nicholas said. Henry looked up. His mother was tense while his father remained perfectly calm.
Here it comes.
“When are you going to get serious and drop this art business? There are worthy things to do, and you’re wasting time.”
“Wasting time?” Henry snapped, aware that his voice was too harsh but unable to stop it. His mother looked between them, helpless to stop what was coming.
“Wasting time?” Henry repeated, a little calmer. “This is my life, Father. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I support artists from all over the world…”
“Yes, yes,” his father answered, waving a hand. “The starving masses, I know. Your heart was always too soft.”
Henry’s eyes met his mother’s. Her face was a mask of apology. She shook her head briefly as if telling him not to take the bait.
“The artworks I support and commission are some of the best in the world,” Henry said, taking a sip of wine and meeting his father’s eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You never had a discerning taste when it comes to things of true value.”
Without knowing it, he had emulated his father’s tone perfectly. Nicholas looked set to explode.
But he won’t. He would never damage his image.
“Besides, as alpha, I can use the resources however I like, can’t I?” Henry’s voice held a real challenge now. Everyone at this table knew the main reason Nicholas had stepped down from the position was that he didn’t stand a chance against his son.
They stared at each other for a full minute, neither of them blinking. Eventually, it was Nicholas who looked away.
They all went back to their food, and Henry mouthed “I’m sorry” to his mother. She shook her head and smiled, letting him know she didn’t blame him at all.
They managed to make it through dessert without incident, and Henry bid his parents goodnight, finally letting out his anger as he jogged out to his car. He drove fast all the way home, yanking the vehicle around corners to make the rubber squeal against the asphalt.
By the time he arrived home, he was still restless and paced the halls. Even though he knew his father was wrong, doubts crowded his mind. He really didn’t think Olivia was a gold digger, but she could be using him. With a horrible moment of clarity, he imagined her getting on to her podcast and gloating about how she’d made him change his ways.