by Rose, Louise
“Yes, you are.” I get into the passenger seat and Romy takes off.I stare out of the window, nervously nibbling at a hangnail.
“You okay?” Romy reaches over and gives my thigh a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be alright, you know. I’ll be right there, and so will the guards. If your father tries to do anything, anything at all, we’ll put him down, but he won’t. He’s not stupid.”
“It’s not that.” I sigh. “It’s just that…”
“What?”
“This is going to be the first time my father and I have sat down as civilised human beings to have dinner together. What will we even talk about? I don’t know the man and I don’t want to know him. Can’t we pretend I’ve got a migraine or something?”
“We can,” Romy says slowly.
“Let’s do that then.”
“If you really want, I’ll turn the car round right now,” Romy replies. “But if you miss this dinner, it’ll cause more problems than it would solve.”
“Why?”
“Your father would automatically assume you’re not really unwell.”
“And he’d be right.”
“But he would argue that it’s a Navarre plot to keep you away from him.”
“That’s crazy! It should be obvious I don’t want to see him.”
“Maybe.” Romy nods. “But the way things work in this town, that doesn’t matter. You should have figured that out by now. It’s all about how you can spin it and, in this instance, your father could use your failure to show up for dinner to launch an offensive against us and insist on us handing you over to his custody. It could get very nasty very quickly. He’ll withdraw his consent for our marriage.”
“So what if he does? It’s not like his opinion matters. If he is going to be like that, I’d marry you as soon as we can arrange it. Heck, we could elope.”
“Much as I’d love to do that, there’s a number of reasons why it wouldn’t work,” Romy explains patiently. “Tradition matters in this town. A wedding like ours is a chance to make a political statement and consolidate our Houses’ power. But if your father isn’t supportive, he could disown you and name a new heir.”
“I thought the whole point of kidnapping me in the first place is because I am the only true heir.”
“And you are,” Romy agrees. “And that is why he brought you here. But if you don’t play by the rules, your father would be perfectly entitled to decide you no longer hold any value for him and fall back on Plan B. Choosing a new heir who isn’t related to him isn’t ideal, but it’s an option. If he does that, it puts you in danger. You’re no longer useful to House Navarre, so my father would want to get rid of you.”
“So we get divorced. So what?”
“No, Ivy.” Romy briefly takes his eyes off the road to look me straight in the eye.
“He’d want to get rid of you. Permanently.”
“Oh.” I gulp.
“I will protect you, but there’s only so much I’d be able to do against the might of my father’s empire. Honestly, I think we would both end up dead,” Romy explains. “And while I’m not the only potential Navarre heir, my father has invested a lot in grooming me to succeed him. If we were to run away together to escape our families, he’d hunt us down. We’d spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, and that’s no way to live.”
“You people are so messed up.”I go back to looking out of the window. There is nothing left to say.
“We’re here,” Romy finally announces, pulling up outside Gazpacho’s, a Spanish restaurant. “What do you want me to do? I can take you home if you really want.”
“What–you’d deal with all the backlash if I stood my father up?”
“Of course.” Romy smiles. “I care about you, Ivy. If that’s what you really want to do, I’ll take you back right now. I will fight for you, protect you. Die for you, if that is what is needed. I knew the second you kissed me that you were the first girl I would let myself fall for. I’m here and not leaving.”
Oh my god, how am I meant to walk away from him when he tells me things like this?
“No.” I sigh. “We’re here now. I might as well get it over and done with.”Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss Romy. Taken by surprise, it takes him a moment to react, but his natural instincts take over and he kisses me back, gently nibbling at my lower lip as I feel so much more than I can explain. Kissing Romy is seductive and natural all at the same time. He is addictive, and I forgot how good it was to be in his arms.
“Crap, my lipstick!” I laugh, pulling away to see a red smear across Romy’s mouth. I run my finger over his lips to wipe away the lipstick, and Romy turns his head to take it into his mouth. Teasing my fingertip with his tongue, I gasp at the sudden sensation.
“Maybe you could come to my room for a nightcap after dinner?” he suggests when he finally lets me go.
“Mm-hmm.” I was a little too aroused to be able to speak. It’s funny how such a simple little gesture could have such a powerful effect on me. I can’t deny the sexual chemistry I share with Romy. He sure knows how to make a girl feel good.
“You might want to touch up your makeup,” Romy suggests.
I pull out a mirror from my bag and see he managed to kiss away a lot of my lipstick. Quickly, I repair the damage.
“Gorgeous,” Romy says, as I look to him for approval. “Come on. The sooner you finish your meal, the sooner we can be alone together.”
“I like the sound of that.”
I really did.
Romy takes my hand and we walk into the restaurant together. I see my father straight away, sitting on his own at a table laid for two towards the back of the room where we would have some privacy.
“I’ll leave the two of you to it,” murmurs Romy, letting go of my hand and giving me a gentle nudge of encouragement. “Remember–I’m right here if you need me.”
My father stands up when he sees me approaching, spreading his arms wide to hug me.
“Ivy!” he smiles. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, my child. I’ve been so worried about you. When I heard you were staying with the Navarres, I had to see for myself that you were okay. You are okay, aren’t you? They’re looking after you properly?”
“Yep.” No thanks to you.
My father pulls out a chair for me and waits for me to sit before going back to his seat.
“I’ve already ordered for us so we don’t waste time,” he tells me, clicking his fingers to summon a waiter.
“Of course you have,” I say. Not sure why I expected anything else.
The waiter pours me a generous glass of red wine, before topping up my father’s drink and leaving the rest of the bottle behind for us to help ourselves.
“Your food will be brought out shortly,” he says, bowing to my father before leaving us alone again.
“A toast.” My father raises his glass. “To my beautiful little girl who is becoming an even more beautiful woman.”
I say nothing as I lift my glass to meet his and take a little sip of wine. Much as I want the comfort of alcohol to numb our encounter, I need to keep a clear head tonight.
“I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve sat down to a proper, grown-up meal with my daughter,” my father says. It is weird. He is acting as though we were a normal father and daughter instead of him being a psychopath who’d abused and manipulated me.
“Well, make the most of it,” I warn him. “It’s not like we’re going to make a habit of this.”
“We’ll see.” My father smiles enigmatically as our food arrives.
“You’ll be enjoying a grass fed, 28-day aged ribeye,” the waiter tells me. “Your father has also selected some of our most popular tapas, including pan fried octopus and confit pork with a chipotle mayonnaise and fresh herbs grown in our very own garden. Should you desire anything else, please let me know and it will be my pleasure to serve you.”
“Yes, it will,” my father says. “But she’ll be fine.”
&n
bsp; “Of course, sir.” The waiter bows as he leaves again and I shake my head. No wonder my father is such a jerk with so many people brown nosing him.
“Eat, eat.” My father gestures with his knife and fork before he tucks into his ribeye.
I did as I was told and cut a small piece of meat. My appetite has completely deserted me, which is a shame. The food really did smell good and is cooked to perfection, clearly prepared by a skilled chef.
“I must admit I am delighted to hear you’d been working in a care home,” my father tells me. “That sense of compassion will stand you in good stead when you are ruling the House.”
“What–like yours does?” I snort. “No, wait. You don’t even know what compassion means.”
My father shrugs his shoulders, seemingly good-natured in the face of my hostility.
“I do what is appropriate in any given situation,” he says. “It took a great deal of compassion to let those three boys live when I had them in my control. It is only my love for you that enabled me to be so restrained.”
I want to throw my wine at his smug face. He thinks he knows what restraint is? It is nothing compared to what I am going through right now.“That is kind of you.”
“Indeed.” My father nods, my sarcasm seemingly going over his head. “And it turned out to be the right choice. When young Navarre came to me and requested your hand in marriage, I immediately saw what an opportunity it is for both of us to consolidate our position in this town. Had I executed the Navarre heir, it would have closed a window of opportunity which will prove very lucrative for all of us. I trust his family are treating you in a manner befitting your station?”
“They’re treating me better than you ever did, if that’s what you’re asking,” I reply. “I have my own apartment within the mansion, but there are no bars on the windows and I have the only key to the door.”
“Is that right?” My father chuckles. “If you believe that, you’re more naïve than I thought. Any freedoms you have are nothing but an illusion. Mark my words, you’re a prisoner of the Navarres as much as you were mine, only you don’t have a father’s love to protect you there. You might want to consider coming back home.”
“Might I?” I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. I’m staying where I am.”
“Well, I’m sure young Romeo Navarre has something to do with that,” says my father. “I must admit, I was a little surprised when he came to ask for your hand. Of all the young men in town, I thought you would have gone for someone who didn’t have such a wandering eye.”
“Like Archer, you mean?”
My father shakes his head. “That boy disappointed me,” he clicks his tongue. “I had high hopes for him, but after a while in my employ, it became clear he didn’t have what it takes to be a leader. He’s more of a follower.”
“If you say so.”
“Still, I can see plenty of advantages in you becoming a Navarre,” my father says. “Although I must insist you keep the Archaic name. It would undermine your authority to be a Navarre when the time comes for you to take over from me.”
“Insist all you like,” I say. “I’ll make up my own mind when it comes to the name I go by. And I rather like the idea of having a name, any name, that isn’t yours.”
My father bursts into fits of raucous laughter. “That’s my little spitfire. I’ve always loved your attitude. We can figure out those details later. For now, you have my permission to marry the Navarre boy.”
“For now?”
“Permission granted can always be taken away.” My father leans back nonchalantly. “You still have a lot to learn when it comes to playing the games in this town. It suits me to have you engaged for the moment. Should that change, you will break it off or I cannot be held responsible for the consequences.”
“Of course you can’t.” This is so typical of him. “Nothing’s ever your fault, is it?”
“I’ve made mistakes in my time.” My father sighs heavily. “I wish I had never let your mother get away from me.”
Right. Because you wanted to continue to control and dominate her.
“I wish I’d had a more active role in your upbringing, but I wanted to respect your mother’s wishes that I keep my distance. I wish I’d come back for you before she died. I hate the idea of her being alone those final few months without my support. I could have given her the best possible medical care, but she refused to accept my help.”
I wonder why?
“But all those things are in the past and I’m not a believer in dwelling on things I can’t change,” my father continues. “I keep my focus firmly on the future and I have every faith that you and I will achieve great things together. Now please, Ivy. Try the octopus. It truly is delicious.”
I do as I am told. It is easier that way.
The rest of the meal passes fairly uneventfully. My father spends the whole time talking about himself, seemingly not caring about my life. Part of me is grateful–it means I don’t have to come up with any lies to avoid telling him anything he might use against me later. But part of me wishes he cared about me, just a little bit.
Most fathers would be proud to see their daughter get engaged, want to plan the wedding with them. Something tells me that if I let my father get involved with mine, it would become the Solomon show with him dictating everything and ignoring what I wanted. Still, it would have been nice for him to show some interest.
As the waiter clears away our plates, he asks if we want to see the dessert menu.
“No,” says my father, before I had a chance to even think about it. “Ivy needs to watch her figure. She’s got a designer wedding dress to fit into. Just the bill will be fine.”
“Very good, sir.” The waiter performs another one of his obsequious bows, leaving to fetch the bill.
“What’s that face for?” my father asks as I scowl. Yet again, he’s made my decision for me. “Don’t tell me you actually wanted more food? Good thing I turned it down then. You need to be looking your best when you walk down the aisle. You’re representing House Archaic, remember.”
“Yep.” I stand up, ready to go.
Seeing me move, Romy comes over to join us.“Everything all right, Ivy?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” my father asks. “My daughter is back where she belongs. But since you’re here, I might as well warn you that if anything were to happen to her while in your care, anything at all, you will face the wrath of House Archaic. I will burn this town to the ground if that’s what it takes. Don’t you dare hurt my daughter.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Romy says smoothly, putting his arm around me and not fearing my father one bit. I kinda like that he protects me and doesn’t seem to fear a man who kidnapped him and could have killed him not that long ago. “I love Ivy and I plan on spending the rest of my life putting her happiness first. You can trust me.”
“We’ll see.”
“Anyway, Dad, we’ve got to go,” I say. “We told Romy’s parents we wouldn’t be late back. It was good to catch up.”
“Yes, it was.” My father stands up and comes to hug me goodbye. Kissing me on both cheeks, he whispers so Romy wouldn’t hear. “Be on your guard at all times. You can’t trust the Navarres.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“That man!” I stomp across the carpark, steam practically coming out of my ears. “I hate him so much!”
“I would never have guessed,” Romy laughs. “You should have seen your face while he was talking. You looked bored out of your brain.”
“That’s because I was,” I say. “He did nothing but drone on and on about himself and all the incredible things he’s doing right now. He didn’t seem to care that I’d spent months on the run. He is more interested in telling me how much money he’s made. Shame he didn’t want to spend any of it on dessert. After all that time listening to him speak, I deserve chocolate cake!”
“Would ice cream do?” Romy offers. “There’s a parlour not far from here that does a mean sund
ae.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
It’s funny how an evening with my father helped put things in perspective. My engagement to Romy is a problem I was going to have to fix at some point, but for now, it offered me some protection while I figured out how I could break free from my father forever.
Running and hiding isn’t a permanent solution. I know that now.
The atmosphere in the car is a lot more relaxed as Romy drives us to the ice cream parlour. I survived the meeting with my father, and Romy respects the fact I have a lot to think about, so he doesn’t badger me with questions about our discussion, giving me time to unwind.
Romy switches on the radio to a rock channel. Closing my eyes, I lay back in the seat, dozing. It has been a long night.
“Arse!” Romy’s sudden curse woke me.
“What?”
“The ice cream parlour’s closed. We must have just missed it.”
I look out of the window. We are outside a parade of shops. The ice cream parlour is right in the middle, but the lights are dim and I can make out a single server sweeping up inside.
“That about sums up my life right now.” I sigh. “Oh well. I guess I can do without ice cream tonight.”
“Wait here.”
Romy pulls the car into a space right in front of the shop and nips out of the car. I watch as he dashes over to the shop and taps on the door. The server opens it and the two of them have a brief discussion which ends in Romy coming back to the car, a large tub of ice cream in his hands and a smug grin on his face.
“Here you go. The lady wants ice cream. The lady gets ice cream.” He passes the tub to me before starting the car and heading back home.
“It’s not quite the same as having one of their freshly made sundaes, but their ice cream is amazing, however you eat it,” he tells me. “And if it’s okay with you, I thought we could maybe go to my room and eat together?”
“That sounds nice.” I smile and realize I mean it. It has been too long since I’d allowed myself to enjoy myself without any pressure. When I was working in the care home, I always had one eye open for my father to come and snatch me away. Since being back in King Town, I’d been consumed with House politics. I’d earned an evening off.