Taking Her

by R. R. Banks

  I'm wound so tight that I jump when I hear the office door open. When I see it's my father standing in the doorway, my heart sinks and that steel backbone I'd walked in with, starts to melt.

  “Well, I suppose I should be grateful to see that you're still alive,” he says. “A return call or text would have been appreciated.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” I say and load a couple of picture frames into the box. “Been busy.”

  “What do you think you're doing?” he asks.

  I clear my throat and try to reassert some control of myself. “Cleaning out my office.”

  He closes the door behinds him and walks over, slips his hands into his pockets and leans against the corner of the desk. He stares at me long and hard.

  “You're doing no such thing,” he says. “You are my daughter and you work for me.”

  A sudden spike of rage pierces my heart and fills me with a feeling of power. I glare at him, clenching my jaw.

  “Not anymore,” I hiss. “Maybe, not on both counts.”

  He recoils, the shock on his face clear. Obviously, he's not been paying attention to what's been happening recently. I'm not the same girl I was before. I'm changing. And I like the person I’m becoming. I'm not going to be the meek little woman who nods her head and bows to his every whim. Not anymore. If he wants to remain in my life, he's going to have to accept me as I am.

  As far as working for him goes, I don't think that's even a consideration at this point. Not for me.

  “Look, I know you've been going through something,” he says, composing himself and trying to sound reasonable. “I don't know what that is, exactly, but you're clearly not yourself, Zoe. I mean, running around – behind my back, mind you – with this drugged-out rock star? Getting pregnant by him? What are you thinking?”

  “For one thing, he's been clean for years. Secondly, he's turned his entire life around. And third, he's a good man. The very best man I know,” I say, and pause a moment before delivering the zinger. “Present company included.”

  I see the hurt flash through my father's eyes. But then it’s gone, like a puff of smoke on the breeze. He's always been a master of controlling his emotions. But, I saw it. I scored a direct hit. And petty or not, I can’t help but revel in it.

  “So, is this good man of yours going to take care of you and that bastard in your belly?”

  I stare at him, but have no scathing reply this time. I don't have an answer for that because I haven’t discussed it with Connor yet. I'd love to be able to throw it in my father's face and tell him that Connor is going to do right by me and this child. But, at this point, it's an absolute question mark. I know how he feels about me, but I don't know how he feels about having kids with me.

  And it's a lack of knowledge that leaves a gaping pit in the center of me.

  My father nods, reading the situation correctly. “I see,” he says, a predatory grin on his face. “You haven't told him yet.”

  “He just got out of the hospital,” I say. “There hasn't been a lot of time. I'm going to tell him, and everything will be fine. You'll see.”

  “It sounds to me like you're trying to convince yourself, Zoe.”

  I stare at my father for a long moment as a lightbulb goes off in my head. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.

  “Did you have anything to do with Connor's attack?” I ask.

  “Attack? What are you talking about?” he asks. “I did no such thing.”

  I scrutinize his face, looking for the slightest tell. But, his confusion seems genuine. His denial seems sincere. I nod. Just because my father had nothing to do with it, however, doesn't mean the same for Bryant. Connor hasn't said much about it, but I have a feeling there's more to it than just a random mugging.

  “Yeah, well, he was attacked and beaten at his house,” I say. “Beaten very badly, I might add.”

  “Well, he probably slept with the wrong woman. Likely a married woman,” he says. “I understand he's got quite a history of that sort of thing.”

  I clench my jaw and shake my head. “I see what you're doing here, Dad.”

  “What am I trying to do?”

  “Drive a wedge between Connor and me,” I say. “You're trying to plant seeds of doubt in my head. Trying to make me think he's going to be unfaithful to me. I'm not an idiot.”

  A small smirk touches the corners of his mouth. “No. You’re many things, but an idiot is not one of them,” he says. “I just want you to see that you can do so much better than that lowlife piece of trash. You can have –”

  “Somebody like Bryant?”

  “Exactly. Yes,” he says. “Someone from a good family. With a good education and upbringing. A man –”

  “A man I absolutely despise,” I hiss. “Somebody I wouldn't cross the street to spit on if he were on fire.”

  “Zoe, that's not fair. Bryant is –”

  “Did you actually think that moronic ambush engagement party was going to work?” I ask. “Did you really think I was going to fall for that peer pressure bullshit? Honestly, father, I expected more from you.”

  “You surprised me, yes,” he says. “I underestimated your – resolve.”

  “You've been underestimating me my entire life,” I say. “I've gotten used to it.”

  “Okay, that's enough, goddammit,” he says, his voice gruff and stern.

  And there it is. I look up and gone is my father's reasonable face. In its place is the face of an angry man. A determined man. A man who is used to getting his way, and seldom ever hears the word no. It's a face I'm well accustomed to, having seen it directed at me my entire life.

  “It's time you're brought to heel, Zoe,” my father says. “You've had your fun, but now it's time you start thinking about someone other than yourself.”

  My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open. I stand there gaping at him. When have I ever, in my entire life, ever thought about myself? When have I ever had the chance to? The answer to that question is never. Because of him.

  “Brought to heel?” I ask, staring at him in stunned disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “Oh, I'm not kidding,” he says. “Bryant has generously agreed to give you one more chance. If certain conditions are met.”

  “Oh gee, how magnanimous of him,” I say.

  “Indeed,” my father says, obviously ignoring the sarcasm in my voice. “First, you will no longer be a practicing attorney. You will be a housewife. He will raise your bastard as his own, but you will give him children of his own as well.”

  “You told him –”

  “Of course, I did,” he scoffs as if it's the most obvious thing ever. “I keep no secrets from him.”

  “Gee, it would've been nice if you'd had the same policy with me,” I say. “You know – your daughter.”

  “You are also to immediately cease all contact with Connor Grigson,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “All contact. Period. If you refuse to the terms, suffice it to say, your legal career will be over. We'll see to it that you won’t ever land a case. So, why not make lemonade out of lemons here, Zoe?”

  “Speaking of which, I think it's pretty obvious by now that he's not going to take the settlement,” I say.

  “Obviously,” he says dryly. “Not to worry, we've been working with Mr. Hill to formulate a new way forward.”

  I gape at him. “You're seriously not going to take this to trial,” I say. “You don't have a leg to stand on.”

  “Let's just say that we have some new information. A new avenue we can exploit,” he says. “To apply a little more – pressure. I have a feeling Grigson will be willing to cut a settlement check in no time flat.”

  I stare at my father in disbelief. He looks like the cat that ate the canary, and it chills me to the bone. What information could they possibly have gotten their hands on?

  “And I don't need to remind you, dear daughter,” he sneers, “that if Grigson opts to go nuclear and try to have us prosecuted for anything, you will most
assuredly go down with us.”

  “As if I could forget that,” I say, a renewed sense of anger and hatred flowing through me.

  “You have until the end of the week to make a decision about Bryant's most generous offer,” he says. “And if I were you, I'd strongly consider accepting it.”

  “Yeah, I'll let you know.”

  My father nods and turns to leave my office – scratch that – my former office. I stop him though. No sense in keeping secrets anymore, so I figure it's time to lay my cards on the table and get some answers to questions I have.

  “Bryant tells me you're so intent on squeezing Connor for money because you've bled the firm dry,” I say. “That you're in some financial difficulty.”

  He turns back to me and I can see pure, unbridled rage bubbling just below the surface. “That's none of your concern.”

  “Actually, it is,” I say. “If you're breaking the law to extort money out of Connor because you've squandered the millions this firm has taken in, and you're making me a party to that, it absolutely is my business.”

  “It's not your business because I say so,” he snaps.

  My mind flashes back to the morning after my so-called date with Bryant. Specifically, to the two large thugs I saw coming out of my father's office. Even now, the mere image of them in my mind sends a chill down my spine. It also raises new questions in my mind.

  “What is it, Dad?” I ask. “Spending millions on some massive drug problem you're hiding? Were those two big guys that were here early that morning a few weeks back here to collect?”

  “That's enough.”

  “Hush money to prostitutes?”

  “I said, that's enough, Zoe.”

  “Oh, I know, maybe you've got a family on the side you're supporting,” I say as I snap my fingers. “Yeah, those can get pretty expensive.”

  “I said shut up Zoe!” he roars.

  In a rage, my father snatches a small statuette from the top of the table next to him and hurls it across the office. It hits the wall and shatters, making a high-pitched tinkling sound as the shards of glass rain down onto the table and the floor.

  My pulse races and I jump at the sudden act of violence. My father's face is dark with fury and he glares at me like he wants to kill me. I've never seen him like this before. Granted, I've never pushed him to this extent, but it still seems like a pretty gross overreaction.

  Something is going on here that he’s not telling me. Something I haven’t pieced together yet. I can smell it. It's like I can see all these different threads, but I can't quite pull them all together into one cohesive picture.

  “This is not up for debate,” he says. “You can pack up your things and get out of here. That's fine. But, you will be marrying Bryant. Period.”

  He storms out of my office, slamming the door so hard, the glass shakes like it's about to break. I take a deep breath and exhale, willing my heart to stop racing. If he really believes I'll accept that offer and live a life of servitude to Bryant, he's grossly underestimating me. Or, maybe he just still thinks he can browbeat me into submission.

  Either way, he's wrong. Dead wrong. The thought of walking away from everything I've ever known terrifies me. At the same time, it fills me with a sense of exhilaration. Of freedom. And for the first time in my life, I'm confident that I can stand on my own two feet.

  He's got me over a barrel with the lawsuit. There's not much I can do about that except hope that Connor is right and can figure a way to get me out from under that. I don't want to lose my career because they're unethical assholes.

  Regardless of what happens – or doesn't – with Connor, I know I'm going to be okay.

  A lot has happened, and I'm not the same woman I was, even a month ago. And I can’t help but think I'm much better for it.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  I set the box with my personal effects in the trunk of my car and close the lid, jumping when I see Bryant standing beside the driver's side door. His face is flushed, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth is turned down into a frown.

  “You humiliated me,” he says, his voice flat and cold.

  “You humiliated yourself,” I reply.

  “All you had to do was play along.”

  “Yeah, I'm not going to do that anymore.”

  “No, you had to go and get yourself knocked up by some drugged-out piece of shit,” he hisses. “I assume your father has explained my conditions for taking on you and the bastard?”

  I laugh and shake my head. Bryant quickly closes the distance between us and grabs hold of my chin, his fingers painfully pressing into my cheeks. He forces me to look at him, the fury burning in his eyes bordering on madness.

  “Don't you dare laugh at me, bitch,” he sneers. “There is nothing funny about this. The only reason I'm even still open to taking you and your bastard in is because –”

  He bites off his words and looks away briefly. When he looks back though, the maniacal expression on his face hasn't diminished. Not at all. For the first time in the many years I've known Bryant, I'm actually frightened by him.

  “I'm only open to it because I love you,” he says quickly.

  I scoff, knowing full-well how hollow those words are. “And it's the love for you that is making me go against my better judgment.”

  My pulse is racing, and icy tendrils of fear are wrapped around my heart, squeezing it tight. Bryant's never demonstrated any inclination toward violence before, and the fact that he's holding my face – hard – troubles me. It hurts too, of course, but it worries me. If he's willing to put his hands on me now, what will he feel entitled to do if we were married?

  “Let go of me, Bryant,” I spit. “Get your fucking hands off me right this second.”

  He looks me in the eye before pushing me away, and I bump against my car. I rub my cheeks and can still feel where his fingers had dug into my skin.

  “You've been with him, haven't you?” Bryant asks. “That Irish prick. You've been staying with him? I went by your place a few times and you were never there.”

  “Where I stay, and who I stay with, is not any of your business,” I say, my voice icy.

  He sneers at me and I know that he’s teetering on the edge of reason. He looks like a man about to lose all control of himself.

  “Whore,” he says. “You're nothing but a whore.”

  “Yeah, that's me,” I say. “Which begs the question – why would you even want a whore like me now that I've been so fouled?”

  “Because you're mine!” he screams, his voice echoing around the subterranean garage. “You are mine, Zoe. You are fucking mine!”

  I recoil, my eyes wide. He actually thinks I belong to him. Thinks that I'm his possession. Which makes all of this, all of his behavior, even scarier. Even creepier. Bryant takes a second to gather himself before he turns back to me, the rage in his face gone, replaced by a cold viciousness instead.

  “Did that Irish prick tell you he already has a bastard?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  What.

  I look at Bryant, clearly not understanding what he'd just said. I obviously hadn't heard him clearly.

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  “Bastard,” he says. “Your Irish prick, the father of your unborn bastard, already has one, Zoe.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He lets out a snort of derision. “I've done some digging on this asshole. Had to call in a few favors to get some intel,” he says. “And I've found a lot of interesting things. A lot. One of the most interesting things I found is that he supports a woman and kid in Ireland.”

  I shake my head, trying to process the words that had just come out of his mouth. I replay the sentence in my head over and over again, and it still doesn't make sense. Connor has told me everything about him. He's confided his deepest, darkest secrets to me. Admitted to some horrendous things he did back when he was using.

  But, he never mentioned having a child.

  I'm skeptical. Kno
wing Bryant and my father as I do, knowing just how far they'll bend the law to take a win, I take it with a grain of salt. I can't believe it. Don't want to believe it. Bryant has to be lying to me. Trying to turn me against Connor. It's the only thing that makes sense.

  “Didn't tell you that, did he?” Bryant sneers. “Gee, I wonder why?”

  I reach my hand back and swing it as hard as I can at Bryant. He's ready for it this time and catches my hand before it connects with his face. A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth and he shakes his head.

  “Not this time, Zo,” he says, purposely using the nickname he knows I hate.

  “Sorry to knock that Irish fucker off the ivory pedestal you've put him on,” he says. “But, someone had to do it. He’s not as perfect as you thought he was.”

  “I never said he was perfect,” I hiss.

  “I bet you never thought he was a father either.”

  “Get out of my way,” I hiss. “I'm leaving.”

  He doesn't move and just stands there, staring at me, a malevolent smile plastered on his face.

  “Now,” I say. “Get the fuck out of my way, Bryant.”

  “You've got until the end of the week to decide on your future,” he says. “It's either me. Or that fucker. I you choose him, there will be repercussions. For you and your father.”

  “My father? What are you talking about?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe you should ask him.”

  We fall silent. Bryant isn't going to answer my question. He's just going to dangle that little bit about my father out there just to mess with me. If there's one thing Bryant does well, it's fuck with my mental state.

  Still, what could he have meant? Or is he just full of shit, trying to get me to cave to his demands?

  He finally steps aside, giving me access to my car. I step forward and fling the door open, making him dance to the side to avoid being hit by it. He opens his mouth to say something, but I slam the door, cutting him off. Starting the car, I back out of the space faster than I probably should have. I slam the car in gear and let the tires squeal as I shoot out of the parking structure and into the light of the afternoon.