The small waiting area filled with buttery-leather seating. It’s placed around a matching black marble fireplace. The flames flickering in the fire and ice hearth. This space is a whole dark, forbidding mood that reeked of status and money.
The door on the left opens. The entire wall of milky frosted glass disappearing, turning translucent again. I watch in fascination as it disintegrates before my eyes. The matching one beside it is still closed and cloudy. Its view blocked.
“Switchable privacy glass,” Abram notes as I observe in awe. “Only clear when the doors open. Great for privacy but keeps my office visible and accessible when it’s open.”
Well, that’s freaking awesome. Him firsthand showing me again money had no limit. It got you whatever you wanted.
“Antoinette, this is my daughter, Rory,” Abram brags.
He says it with so much pride you’d never known this was only the second-longest period of time we’d spent together. In my entire life.
“I… your… I-I didn’t know… how nice to meet you,” Antionette splutters, choking on her spit. You’d think I’d be disappointed at her surprise, but that reaction faded as quickly as the smoke in his wall.
Abram’s facade thin and transparent.
Her lashes flutter, looking between Abram and me for a resemblance she wouldn’t find.
“She lived with her mother most of the time,” he defends. Omitting the fact that he was an absent father. “Is Silas in?” Seamlessly changing the conversation.
Probably to again avoid the awkward chat on why he purposefully was an absent father.
“He should be back any moment.”
As if speaking his name, the elevators ding. A man stepping out who carries the same weight of authority and arrogance as his son. I instantly knew who he was without ever having to see him before.
The Kellets having a gift for popping up at the most inconvenient or convenient times. Depending on your prerogative.
“Silas,” Abram greets. “Have you had the chance to meet my daughter, Rory, yet?”
“Remind her we have cameras,” he says with null fingers glancing through a set of documents.
Her.He couldn’t even acknowledge my name.
Abram stiffens beside me. “That comment was not necessary. Rory will be credited with the same trust our sons are.”
“Trust is subjective,” Silas quips with indifferent boredom.
Does this jerk believe I’d want anything to do with here? I want to tell him I’m only here because I am forced to be. Silas’s unyielding insignificance for human life tells me he wouldn’t care either way. I bite the inside of my cheek instead.
“Your child being here is of no concern to me. We are running a business together, not a playground.”
His custom-tailored black suit hugging his conceited posture like a second skin. Silas hasn’t once looked up from his shoes.
“It’s Rory,” I answer flatly. My pride getting the better of me.
Fingers still skimming. “Informative.”
My growing anger working faster than my brain has time to process what I’d done until it was too late. Yanking for his hand over the files and holding firm.
Silas stills. His head lifting menacingly slow taking in my appearance. I smile, batting my eyelashes.
I’m certain the intrusion catches him off guard but like his son, if it did, he conceals it with a mask of indifference.
“Isaid,” Grounding out the words. “Myname isRory.”
His eyes are penetrating and soleless. The shade unlike his son’s ocean eyes. A deep hazel staring back, finally acknowledging me. Cole must have gotten those from his mother.
Suppressing a shiver at how empty they are, I maintain my strong grip on his hand. Not backing down.