Slamming a clenched fist on the table, he shouts. "Thieves and liars. All of them!" Frown lines crease his forehead as his brows draw together. "They ripped me off."
His face reddens as his blood pressure rises, his beady-eyed stare pinning me to the spot. "You can't trustanyonethese days," he spits.
He may be talking about his work, but the pointed comment is aimed at me. I know what he's like, and I won't fall for his tricks. My dad's a con artist and a scammer. He's always looking for a quick buck, or taking the easy way out.
"You'll sniff out another deal. You're resourceful." I smile sweetly, but his face is granite.
One of the earliest lessons he taught me was that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. I didn't understand the deeper meaning when I was younger, but his motives have little to do with being a good person. Everything is about manipulation with him. All he's concerned with is gaining something for nothing.
He's come up with a thousand get-rich-quick schemes, but of course, none of them work because there is no easy way. I believe in honest, hard work, and as long as I try my best, the outcome is irrelevant. Call me naive, but it's what I believe, and it's how I choose to live my life.
Dad squints, concentrating on something in the background. "Is there something you want to tell me, Dahlia?"
Glancing over my shoulder, I see the bedroom door is ajar, but the room is empty like it was a moment ago. I guess he has a sixth sense about these things. Seeing as I'm delaying the inevitable, I may as well fess up. "I've met someone."
"Is that right?" He clenches his jaw, and his gaze darkens. "Who, exactly?"
He's all ears, knowing I wouldn't be telling him if it wasn't important. "He lives in town and works with computers."
I'm not giving him any more information about Draven's work. If he asks more questions, he may put two and two together, and before I know it, he'll be knocking on the front door, trying to muscle his way into our lives with the sole intention of taking advantage of Draven.
"Computers, huh?" Dad squints. A shiver of unease runs up my spine. Dad and thinking make unnatural bedfellows. Nothing good happens when he starts plotting.
As far as I'm concerned, I've done my duty and said what I needed to say.
Footsteps echo in the hallway, and Draven's scent filters into my room, bolstering my flagging spirits. Knowing he's nearby makes me feel secure and less defensive. I take a deep breath and smile. It's time to say goodbye.
"What about Todd?" Dad glares, his tone dark and menacing. A sheen of perspiration coats his brow. "I arranged everything with him, and you can't just walk away."
Uh-oh.Here comes the lecture.
"Todd? That's your dream, not mine, and besides, I hardly know him."
I hear a low growl coming from outside my room. My heart rate spikes, and my hands feel clammy. How long has Draven been listening?
"Dad! Wait. Be right back." Biting my cheek, I race to catch Draven and explain before he disappears with only half the story. I need to introduce them quickly to minimize the risk of hurting him further. My love is standing in the shadows, his nostrils flared, his back against the wall.
My heart clenches when I hold out my hand, beckoning him to take it. The warmth of his touch soothes me, making me feel as though I belong to something bigger than myself. I never understood what it felt like to belong before meeting him. He is the only man who accepts me without judgment, and I love him with all my heart.
"I'm sorry about my dad. He speaks without thinking, but why don't you come and meet him?"
Draven dips his head. "Of course I want to meet your father, Beauty. Lead the way."My heart! This man is everything.He has more dignity in his little finger than anyone I've ever met.
I beam with joy as we hold hands and saunter back in, pausing only to turn off the lights so Draven can see the screen.
"Dad, this is Draven Woodburn, the man I was telling you about." My joy is almost beyond my control. "Draven, this is my dad, Frank."
"Mr. Savage—"
The color drains from Draven's face, and I glance at the screen to see my father, nose wrinkled, his lips twisting cruelly. He's on his feet, a frosty look in his eyes as he stabs his pointer finger at the screen. "What the hell is that…thing?"
I gasp in shock, horrified by his behavior.
Draven squeezes my hand before letting go. "We probably needed to prepare him better."
"I'm sorry my love. I'll shut this down and come find you when I've dealt with him, okay?" I plead, lowering the screen so dad can't see. Draven nods, his expression blank, and I feel him withdrawing deep inside his shell. He exits swiftly without another word.
The horror of Draven's life comes crashing down around me. He faces this kind of prejudice all the time, and that's why he hides in the mansion. People fear what they don't understand. And that makes me angry.