I chastise myself all the way to the door, where I lean against it to look through the peephole. My stomach reacts anxiously again, but this time for a different reason.
On the other side of the door, looking impatient as ever, is my father, David Townsend. He looks much like Olivia and her father, with his dark hair and greenish hazel eyes. But his demeanor gives him an elegance (and an arrogance) that shows in every smooth line of his entire body.
Even though he’s related to me, he’s still one of the most intimidating men I’ve ever known. He’s the reason I can hold my own with practically anyone in the corporate, legal, and judicial worlds. Cutting one’s teeth on David Townsend results in fangs. Long, sharp fangs.
I take a deep breath and throw the deadbolt, swinging the door open on my fake smile. “Daddy. What are you doing here?”
Without a word, he brushes past me in his thousand-dollar suit, carrying with him the faint scent of his nearly as expensive cologne.
He walks to the edge of the living room and turns toward me, his brow set in a line as stern and unyielding as his mouth. “Just what is it you think you’re doing, young lady?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say calmly, closing the door behind him. I learned long ago to bury everything I feel beneath a calm exterior. It’s the ultimate weapon in my world. Well, the world that used to feel like mine, but now feels more like just his.
“First, you leave to come home early, giving me no choice but to follow.”
“You didn’t have to cut your trip short, Daddy.”
“How would that have looked? My daughter has some sort of emergency she has to return to the States for and I continue working?”
Of course it would all boil down to appearances. That’s what it always boils down to. It’s the way my life, my family, my whole world has always been.
“I’m sorry it inconvenienced you.”
“No you’re not. You weren’t thinking of anyone but yourself. And then to show up at my house with some . . . some . . . criminal in tow. What were you thinking?”
I hadn’t told my father what happened when Nash brought me home. I told him it was personal and left it at that. Evidently, that was some sort of trigger. He backed off immediately. But not before he lectured me about the importance of keeping my personal life strictly aboveboard unless I could keep it discreet and forever hidden from public knowledge. I have no idea what he thinks I’m up to, but I suspect he thinks it’s deviant.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll be more thoughtful next time.”
I’ve done this all my life—cater to Daddy, pander to Daddy, yield to Daddy. It’s always come naturally. He’s the type of man who demands it, without ever really having to ask for it. But today, for the first time that I can ever remember, I choke a little bit on the words.
“You’re a Townsend, Marissa. Mistakes like these can’t happen. One slipup can have lasting consequences on your career and your reputation. You know to protect them at all costs. I’ve taught you better than this.” I nod obediently, keeping my eyes cast down so he won’t see the change in me, so he won’t see the struggle. “Now, the cat’s out of the bag about our early return. There’s a fund-raiser you’ll be expected to attend tonight. I think it would be a good idea for you to bring Nash. I think that would go a long way toward dispelling any rumors that might be circulating.”
“Nash and I broke up, Daddy.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
It’s never worried me before that he keeps such a close eye on me. It doesn’t worry me now, per se. But it makes me very uncomfortable.
A curious thought pops into my head before he continues, a thought about how he might’ve known I was unaccounted for over a thirty-some-hour period. But I don’t have time to finish the disturbing notion before he speaks again.
“Do what you need to do to make up. He’s a rising star, as you well know. I wouldn’t waste my time on anything less. A match with him is a good move for you, for the family and the firm.”
“Even though his father’s in prison for murder?”
“That just makes him more relatable to constituents. Makes him seem more human. He’s the boy from the streets who overcame his humble beginnings. A man of the people.”
Constituents?
“And why does that matter? It’s not like he’s—”
I stop abruptly, for the first time recognizing my father’s big-picture plan for me. I always thought it had to do with him grooming me to take my place as a partner in the firm one day, but it didn’t. It never did. He never had plans like that for me. He was simply grooming me to be the wife of a powerful man. A very powerful man. Like a man in politics.
He has plans for Nash in politics.
“Oh my God! How did I never see this before?”
His lips thin, confirming my suspicion. He doesn’t even bother to deny it. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. “I knew you’d catch on one day and see how perfectly this could all work out.” He takes a step toward me, narrowing his eyes on mine. “As long as you don’t screw it up.”
My mouth drops open. I can’t help it. Has he always treated me like nothing more than a pawn and I’ve just never noticed it? Is it possible for someone to be so wrapped up in an identity that she’d never notice she was living in such a twisted, narcissistic, superficial world?
Apparently so.
“Close your mouth. And don’t act like this is a foreign concept to you. You’ve been more than happy to go along with my plans up until now.” He walks to me and puts his hands on my upper arms, bending slightly to look into my eyes. It’s his version of tenderness. I recognize it. I’ve just never realized how cold, calculated, and practiced it is. “I only want what’s best for you, sweetheart.”
I close my mouth, but only to keep the words that are lodged in my throat from spilling off my tongue. I nod robotically and give him my best attempt at a smile. I need to keep up pretenses as much as I can until I have some time to think. And plan. And figure out how to live, how to make a life for myself, outside of everything and everyone I’ve ever known.
In a town that my father practically owns.
It doesn’t look very promising for me.
NINE
Nash
Visiting my father in prison, with all the security checks, thick bars, uniformed men, and violent-looking criminals at every turn, is a harsh reality check. It marks the first time I’m able to have a little sympathy for what Cash must’ve felt the first time he’d visited Dad all those years ago. As a lost kid, no less. That slap in the face must’ve hurt like a bitch.