Ruthless.
“My engagement.”
He leans back in his chair, contemplating me with narrowed eyes. Eyes that match mine. I remain in place, gripping the desk tighter and hoping he doesn’t notice the faint trembles coursing through me. Praying I don’t puke back up all the alcohol I hastily consumed.
Maybe this was a bad idea, barging into my father’s office and making demands. I don’t do this sort of thing. I never have. Maybe that could work to my advantage.
For once, perhaps he’ll notice me. Listen to me.
And give me what I want.
“This engagement between you and that Constantine boy is very important,” he starts, and I realize I’m in for a lecture.
With a sigh I push myself off of his desk and settle into one of the nearby overstuffed chairs, flopping onto it like a sullen child. I’m halfway tempted to throw a fit, but that would only prompt him to throw me out.
And I don’t throw fits. That’s not the Lancaster way.
“Why is it so important? What does it matter by me marrying him, Daddy?” I’m bringing out the big guns by calling him that, a term of endearment I never use.
He’s never been a sweet, loving daddy. More like a stern, elusive father who doesn’t care about his children.
Especially me.
“I don’t like him,” I continue when my father hasn’t answered me. “He’s rude. He says the most awful things, and I don’t even know him. This isn’t the dark ages. Arranged marriages aren’t a thing.”
“You’d be surprised,” he offers.
And that’s it.
That’s all he has to say about the matter.
Crossing my arms in front of me, I glare at him, wondering where all of this fierceness is coming from. I don’t talk back or sass my father. Maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through my veins, firing me up. “I won’t do it.”
“You won’t do what, exactly?”
“Marry Perry Constantine.” I pause. “I hate him.”
“Oh, I very much doubt that.”
“I do.”
“You haven’t known him long enough to hate him.” He leans forward, his chair creaking with the movement. “Charlotte, I’m sure this isn’t what you had in mind for your future, but it’s what’s best for both families.”
This explanation feels like a complete lie.
“How does this benefit us? We’re Lancasters. I’ve never even heard of the Constantine family until I was told I have to marry into it,” I retort.
“Then you’ve been living under a rock your entire life because the Constantines are one of the most powerful families in the state, if not in the entire country. Winston Constantine took over the family business after his father died and built it into a billion-dollar company. They are a force to be reckoned with,” he explains.
“And what does that have to do with us?”
He leans back once more, contemplating me, his hands steepled in front of his face, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m not a baby.”
He just looks at me.
“I’m not!”