9
KAI
Minutes later.
“Open the fucking door.”
My voice echoes in the hallway while my fist hits my father’s door repeatedly.
“Father?” I thunder again.
It takes a few more moments before I hear a noise behind the door, voices, and it finally cracks open.
I move past him, shoving the door to the side.
He steps back at the last moment, unstable on his feet.
“What the hell happened?” he asks, holding his robe with one hand while struggling to tie the belt with the other.
The woman keeping him company climbs out of bed.
“Tell her to leave.”
Regaining his composure, my father closes the door and moves closer, motioning the woman to stay put.
She drops back to the edge of the bed, holding a sheet up to her chest, wearing, maybe, a set of lingerie.
“I’m not doing anything,” he says. “What the hell are you doing in my room at three o’clock in the morning?”
The space between us disappears when I stop in front of him, my teeth grinding.
“Tell her to go,” I rumble like a rusty engine.
He gestures at her. She picks up her clothes, her shoes, and her purse and exits the room.
“Theodore Sloane was arrested for aggravated assault.”
His expression remains unchanged.
“And why is that my problem?”
He moves away and pours himself a drink.
“I need you to stop doing business with him,” I say as calmly as I can.
He turns around to face me, a drink in his hand, an eyebrow cocked at me. His eyes slide down and stop on my reddened knuckles.
“Has he assaulted you?”
“Raven Wilson.”
Again, no reaction.
He takes a sip, sets his drink down, and leans against the table, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Is she okay?” he asks, cold.
My father has never been known for his empathy toward others or a firm grasp of other people’s needs and struggles.