It was like seeing a different person. Watching her like this. Something about her was both so ominous and mesmerizing.
She moved almost effortlessly, as if she floated along each step she took as we entered the daunting building made of glass. Their family's empire. I was immediately humbled.
She and her brother walked ahead of us. The Lastor Siblings. The future King and The Right Hand who wielded his sword. It was only now that it became undeniably clear to me, their rightful places. Beside each other, with the rest of the world either wilfully behind them or forcefully beneath them.
Every pair of eyes in the lobby followed their movement, but neither of them spared a single person a glance. Everyone they passed would stop and stare. Some would step aside to make way for them. Most seemed to be in awe of the both of them, none daring to step onto ground they walked on. It was almost surreal to see, the way they held such a powerful aura in them. What made it even more surreal was they wielded it so effortlessly, as if they were born with it.
It was always there, every time I saw her, I would feel it. But now, it was amplified. She wasn't hiding anything and everyone saw it. Felt it. Made us mere mortals feel minuscule and unworthy of their godlike presence. They were each other's only equals. It was more evident now than ever that I was forced to accept it. Nobody could come close to being Angel's equal other than Jude, and vice versa. It was intimidating, to say the least.
Jude and Angel were speaking in hushed voices as we stood in the elevator. Talking in French. I tried to catch bits and pieces of what I could understand in the language, but I only got confused. I looked over to Andrea beside me, knowing she spoke the language, for clarity. All I got was an annoyed glare in response.
The elevator pinged and the doors slid open but instead of an office space, we emerged into what seemed to be an apartment situated at the top floor of the seventy-three story building.
All the walls were made of glass, offering a better view of Manhattan than the Empire State Building. At every glance, an artwork hung by the wall, but not one piece of furniture offered comfort. It felt more like a clinic than a home.
A woman wearing a bright red wrap dress welcomed us, flashing a cordial smile.
"Lord Jude. Lady Angel," she greeted. "Please, follow me."
She turned, leading us down a wide hall.
"Mr. Lastor is still in a meeting downstairs," she said as we arrived at what seemed to be the entertainment room. "He'll be joining you in a few minutes. May I take your jacket, Miss Lastor?"
She reached for the lapels of Angel's jacket but she caught her wrist.
"Has my father not trained you properly, slut? Or do you think yourself worthy of touching me?"
My eyes widened at the venom in her tone.
"I... I apologize, Miss Lastor," the woman stuttered out.
Angel's hold on the woman's wrist tightened as she appraised her with a look of disgust. I reminded myself this wasn't her. It was who she was supposed to be. At least that's what I told myself.
The woman whimpered when Angel's nails dug into her skin.
"Name," she ordered.
"E-Elsa Gallo."
"Elsa," she echoed, testing the name. "How's my father's cock these days, Elsa?"
"Wha-what?"
"You reek of his perfume," she spat in disdain. "Mother buys him a bottle of that scent every fucking Christmas. It's all over you. And I can smell scum in your hands." She threw the woman's arm to the side in disgust before slapping her. "How dare you touch me."
I wanted to go to Angel, to shake her and ask her what the hell she was doing but when I took a step, someone grasped my arm. I looked back and saw Andrea standing behind me. I tried to pull my arm free, but she merely tightened her hold on me.
"Know your fucking place, jackass," she hissed lowly, giving a glare.
"It's quite disrespectful, don't you think?" I heard Jude say from his seat on the plush white couch, straightening the cuffs of his shirt. "To welcome his children while you're reeking of his scent?"
"It's pathetic and embarrassing."
Angel spat. her saliva landing on the woman's chest.
"Get out of my sight before I vomit. I can't believe my father puts up with your stupidity for a good fuck."
She scoffed before turning her back on the woman as if she hadn't just stripped her of her dignity.
"Pardon me," she said.
I watched her walk out of the room with her head down in shame, visibly trembling. I looked back at Angel as she sat beside her brother. Her face was emotionless, but I could see the rage in her eyes. Both of them. It's been there the entire flight, festering within the menacing silence they had fallen into.
I realized Stella and I were the only people left standing besides the two suited men standing by one corner. Andrea was at the bar and was going about mixing a drink.
I shook off the shock and went to sit beside Angel on the couch. I glanced at her but her eyes remained up front, staring at nothing in particular.
"Please don't hate me for what I have to be," she had told me before we left Mexico. Those were her last words to me, as the Angel I knew.
This isn't her. She's just playing a character, I reminded myself once more.
I reached for her hand, but she pulled away and folded her arms. I tried to hide any reaction at having her push me away again.
She's only doing this because she has to. It's her duty.
I kept trying to convince myself that this wasn't the girl I was admittedly falling for. That she wasn't the girl who gave herself up to me. Offered herself to me inside out because I was selfish and I needed her to be mine. This wasn't the girl whose heart was so pure and passionate that she was constantly being overwhelmed by everything that she felt. This wasn't my Angel.
But seeing her like this. This side of her. The coldest and cruelest side of her. It was hard to see. She wasn't the Angel that I had grown to care for. This girl was cold, dull, hateful, and a mere shell of her.
I let out a harsh breath, grabbing her hand. She tried to pull away, but I tightened my grip.
"Let me go," she said, her voice empty. Not even the anger that I knew she felt.
I ignored her.
"Let me go, Frederick," she repeated.
"Why? Am I so below you that I can't hold your hand unless we're alone?"
She stilled, finally sparing me a glance. It was a cold glance. The anger inside her was tamed. She was holding back. Refusing to let her emotions drive her. Because she was taught to shut it down. But all she was doing was keep it inside.
"I don't like this, baby," I asked, cupping her cheek. "Please stop."
She screwed her eyes shut, biting her lip, as if she didn't want to feel me touching her. Didn't want to feel this thing between us. This thing that would never go away no matter how much either of us ignored it.
"Come back to me," I whispered, calling out for the girl that was hidden underneath this shell. "This is hurting you. I hate it. Stop, please?"
She turned her head away and yanked her hand out of my hold. When she opened her eyes, they were filled with unshed tears but still, her gaze remained empty.
"Do not touch me without permission," she said, her voice calm and collected. "I told you, your isolence will not be tolerated."
She might as well have slapped me. The sting of her slap would have been more bearable than her blunt rejection.
This isn't her. It's just a lie.
Andrea handed her a glass of cocktail before plopping on the couch adjacent to us, placing her feet up on the coffee table as she flicked through the TV while sipping on her own drink, looking like she had no care in the world.
She was playing blind. I noticed she's been playing blind ever since I met her. No matter how hurtful Angel was to her at times, she just smiled through it. Even when Angel had that episode, she pretended not to care. I knew she did somehow. She just wouldn't show it. It was fucked up. This was all fucked up.
I could deal with hysterical rage fits. Cruel insults. Being her punching bag. Drug induced spiels. But not this. Fuck this shit.
"I can't." I rose to my feet. "I'm sorry. I'm not going to deal with this crap. I'd like to leave."
"Please, Dr. Richardson, stay."
I stilled at the voice that spoke.
I turned, seeing Anthony Lastor in all his might standing by the entry way. He offered a polite smile as he entered the room and immediately, I felt his presence as if he was invading my space. It was powerful. Like him.
Jude's presence radiated with menacing dominance. Angel with elegant superiority. Him with veritable power. All had one thing in common, it was dark.
Somewhere underneath their perfect smiles hid something much darker and more terrifying. It was almost unbearable being around them in one room at the same time as they bore their true nature to us. I couldn't breathe properly while Stella seemed to be on the verge of losing consciousness by how pale she was.
"Mr. Lastor," I greeted, unconsciously bowing my head.
He nodded, gesturing a hand at the couch. I sat down. It was like an inherent thing, submitting to him. It pissed me off.
He glanced at his children and smiled. They stood in unison. Like robots. Puppets. He raised his hand and Angel took it, kissing the gold ring on his ring finger while Jude merely shook it.
"How was your flight?" he asked in a cordial tone.
"It was fine," Jude answered, his voice cool, not a hint of emotion a son should have for his father.
"I'm sorry for cutting your vacation short, but we have an issue that needs urgent attention," he spoke without a hitch in his voice.
"It must be very urgent for you to send Mr. Jenkins for us," Jude remarked as he sat back with Angel following his lead.
Mr. Lastor glanced around him. When his gaze came to me, I felt chills break out of every inch of my skin. He shifted his gaze to Stella, but she kept her head down, visibly shaking. And then he glanced at Andrea who gave him a smirk as she tipped her glass to him, seemingly unaffected by his overwhelming presence. I wasn't surprised though. Despite her carefree disposition, she had grown up with the same luxuries as Angel. She had status in this world, albeit not as high as Angel's or Jude's, whereas Stella and I clearly didn't even belong in it.
"Tony," she chirped.
He smiled. "Alexandrea."
She wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. Why do you always call me that?"
"You were named after your grandfather. You should take pride in it. He is a great man, after all," he chided kindly.
She rolled her eyes. "Pappy hates my guts."
"I'm sure that's not true. How is Alexander, by the way?"
She shrugged, popping a cherry in her mouth. "Still a racist pig but hey, when he dies I get a shitload of money so who cares, right?"
He shook his head, smiling wryly. "You never fail to amuse me."
"And you never fail to creep me out," she countered, grinning.
He laughed, turning his attention to the rest of us. "I'm sure the lot of you are starving. I had the chef prepare a small luncheon for us, if you'd like to join me," he offered but something in the way he just was made me think denying him was not an option.
He led the way out of the room, his children following behind him. I stood, walking behind Angel, noticing that she was keeping her eyes down, hiding behind the fringe covering her forehead.
We entered the dining room, everything seemingly made of glass. The table. The walls. Even the chairs.
Staff dressed in white vests and gloves were setting the table. Mr. Lastor sat at the head of the table. Jude sat at his right hand side. Angel took the left. For a moment, I wondered where to place myself.
Andrea nudged my side with her elbow, giving me yet another glare as she moved past me and sat beside Angel. I took the chair beside her and Stella followed beside me.
The atmosphere in the room could not be any more denser. It felt eerie, the way Mr. Lastor was smiling while Jude and Angel had emotionless facades.
Two men came in, each carrying three plates. They started serving us, but when one of them was about to set down Angel's plate, she waved him away and the man nodded before moving over to Andrea. They filled our glasses with wine, but when he came to Angel's side to fill her glass, she grabbed the bottle and waved him off again. And then she filled her glass to the brim. I caught the look of disapproval that flickered in her father's eyes as she took a large gulp from the glass. Emptying it in seconds. All in one breath.
She snapped her fingers once. Just once. One of the servers came up behind her. She shrugged her jacket off, followed by the gloves she wore, and threw them at the man who easily caught them. And then she folded the sleeves of her blouse to her elbows, revealing the bandages and band aids covering almost every inch of her arms and hands. Mr. Lastors eyes narrowed at the sight of them.
"What have you done to yourself now?" he demanded, his voice so quiet and yet heavy with tension.
"She tore the bathroom apart," Jude answered for her, his voice flat and dismissive.
Mr. Lastor turned to him and Jude shrugged. As if what happened that morning didn't matter at all.
"She had a fit. You know how she gets," he went on, as if she wasn't sitting in front of him.
"Winston," Mr. Lastor called sharply.
A middle-aged suited man stepped away from the line of servers standing against the wall, coming up behind Mr. Lastor.
"Sir," he responded.
"Schedule an appointment for the girl with the necessary specialists. Tomorrow."
"Yes, Mr. Lastor."
He returned to his post while Mr. Lastor blew out a sharp breath, shaking his head. Didn't even ask why she had a breakdown. Or if she was okay. It seemed what angered him most was that she would have scars that people might see, as if having physical flaws was unacceptable.
"Let's eat," he announced.
"Angel, put the glass down," Jude seconded.
She obliged, but not before downing her drink in one breath. I was tempted to grab her and drag her out of here already.
We started eating, the food, no matter how delicious, barely able to summon my appetite. I just forced myself to swallow everything down while the eerie silence filled with only our knives and forks shrouded the room.
"So, how was Mexico?" Mr. Lastor began as if this was a normal lunch.
"It was fine. We were supposed to go hiking today, but Mr. Jenkins insisted we return," Jude answered while Angel merely drew circles on her empty plate with her fork.
"Yes, I apologize for that." Mr. Lastor chuckled. "But you know how I am with your protection. You should have notified me or Benjamin about your trip so we could have had arranged for security personnel to accompany you," he said, his voice light.
"We weren't planning on going to Mexico. It was sort of an in the moment decision. My apologies," Jude said, sounding like he was talking to a superior officer instead of his father.
Mr. Lastor nodded, smiling. "It's quite fine as long as you were safe."
It was unnerving, how much this man was playing blind with his children's actions. Angel wouldn't say anything and Jude barely looked at him. But still, they were the epitome of perfect children. It made me want to shake Mr. Lastor to wake him up because this wasn't how children should act with their father. This wasn't how anyone should live. Did he even know what his daughter was currently going through?
I glanced at Jude and then at his father. It didn't seem like the knowledge had been passed. Maybe it had been, he just didn't care.
I took a deep breath and let it out harshly, the act catching his attention. I stiffened.
"Dr. Richardson, how's your residency going? Have you settled well?" he asked, his smile mocking me somehow.
"It's going very well, sir. Thank you for the opportunity," I responded, pulling out the values my parents instilled in me.
"That's good to hear," he said, satisfied. "I hope you're working hard. I always encourage my employees to strive to become their bests."
Even though he was being cordial, the condescending manner of his words didn't go unnoticed. He was putting me in my place. That I was just an employee. An employee who had no right to even breathe the same air as his daughter. I didn't let it get to me.
I forced a smile. "I'm looking into asking for additional hours on my shifts, actually. Especially during the weekends since I don't really have much to do anyways."
He nodded, smiling back. "That's good."
"Have you visited your parents yet?" Angel suddenly spoke up.
I glanced at her, but she kept her head down. "No, I haven't."
"Then you should use the weekends as a time for you to be with your family," she muttered.
Even though her voice offered nothing, I instinctively knew she was annoyed.
"Don't take for granted things that cannot be bought, Frederick. You don't know how many people in the world would give anything to get a fraction of what you have," she added.
I stiffened, glancing at Mr. Lastor who was eyeing her strangely. As if he was surprised she was speaking. More so that she was indirectly pointing out their dysfunctional family.
"Is there something wrong, darling?" her father asked, bemused.
I wanted to tell him everything was so fucking wrong. His daughter was on the verge of self-destructing and he didn't care. Where in God's Earth did this man come from? How could he not care for his dying child?
He placed his hand on hers, giving it a light squeeze that made her lift her head. He gave her a smile and she easily smiled back. But I could just feel it, it hurt her to smile.
"Nothing. I'm just tired, I guess," she mumbled, laughing lightly. It sounded forced. "I didn't mean to dictate you," she directed to me.
This came from the girl who constantly tells me to fuck off and considered my name as synonymous to asshole.
"Yes, a man's career is his to determine," her father seconded. "What he does is solely his own consideration and I believe you shouldn't let your personal affairs hold you back from becoming what you strive to be. Don't you agree, Dr. Richardson?"
I was a very well-mannered individual, my mother made sure of that. And she always reminded me to respect my elders. But right now, I was finding it hard to be polite.
"I don't think I agree with you, sir."
I caught Angel's eyes snap over to me. I kept my gaze steady on him.
"Angel's right. I shouldn't take for granted things that cannot be bought. A lot of people don't get to have what I do and I wouldn't be where I am today if my parents weren't there," I said firmly. "Although, I do agree there should be a barrier between your personal life and career, but family should always come first."
He nodded, considering my words. "And have you made a barrier between your personal life and career?"
He might as well have asked: Was it smart to pursue my daughter?
I smiled sincerely. "Of course, sir."
He leaned back, tapping his fingers on the table. "You know, Dr. Richardson, I don't just offer anyone my generosity," he said, the condescion no longer masked. "But when I do, it is sincere. When I offered you a residency at one of my hospitals, it was because I saw potential in you."
"Thank you, sir."
"But you disappointed me," he went on, rubbing a hand along his jaw. "And I do not like being disappointed."
He gestured with a finger at Winston and he came up behind him, leaning down to lower his head. Mr. Lastor whispered something in his ear and the man nodded before walking out of the dining room. A moment later, he returned carrying an armful of magazines and newspapers. Mr. Lastor took them and flung them across the table.
There, out in the open, pictures of us, gracing the front pages. Stella gasped from beside me while I stared, dumbfounded at the ridiculous headlines.
"New York socialites Angel Lastor and Andrea Allen live it up in Cabo!"
"Lastor Siblings' Romantic Getaway in Cabo with secret lovers!"
"Breakup rumors confirmed: Angel Lastor and Andre Gustav officially split!"
"Jude Lastor seen with secret girlfriend for the first time!"
"Get to know the Lastor Siblings' rumored lovers!"
"Toxic Twins, Angel and Andrea raving in Cabo!"
There was a picture of Angel and I on a lounge chair by the beach with the headline, "Angel Lastor and mystery man cuddling under the sun".
Another was of us in the ocean, arms wrapped around each other as we kissed, "Angel Lastor and new beau exuding PDA in Cabo", the headline claimed.
One had Jude and Stella strolling on the beach, hand in hand, "Prince and the Pauper", it said on the headline.
And another was of five us while we were at a flee market just yesterday.
Mr. Lastor's eyes suddenly settled on me and I grew still.
"Is that how you put a barrier between your personal life and career, Dr. Richardson?" He chuckled when I didn't answer. "Now, I don't expect an explanation because I shouldn't have to need one. This?" He lifted a magazine with Angel and I kissing on the cover. "- is disgusting. I am beyond disappointed of you, Vivien," he said to Angel. "I gave you the freedom to live your life as you saw fit and all you've done is abuse it. Tell me, was I wrong to give you everything?"
Her head was down while her hands were curled into firm fists on her lap. I felt like shit.
"Sir, I-"
"I'm not speaking to you, boy," he cut in sharply. "I'm speaking to my daughter now. Vivien?"
"I have no excuse," Angel said. "I was being careless. Forgive me."
"Careless is unintentional. This disgusting display of bad behavior is foolish, obscene, disgraceful, and obviously intentional. That is not how I taught my daughter to act. How long are you going to leave me cleaning up after your mess, child?" he asked, his voice so calm it made him even more threatening. "And you." He turned to Jude. "Your sister, I am not surprised with. But you?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I expected more from my successor. Have you forgotten who you are, boy?"
Jude kept his gaze on his plate. "I haven't. This won't happen again, ever. I apologize for my recklessness."
"I don't need your apologies." He scoffed, straightening his tie. "I need you to remember who you are-" His eyes swiveled to me. "- and know where your place is." He glanced at Stella. "Or next time, there will be consequences. Understand?" He looked at Jude.
"I understand."
"Vivien?"
"I understand."
"As for these so-calle secret lovers." He chuckled humorlessly. "Neither of you have the time or luxury for such things. Jude, you will be beginning your residency. I expect nothing less but your sole focus on the matter."
"Yes, Father."
"And Vivien." He turned to Angel. "Medical School."
"Yes, Father."
"Do not disappoint me like you did with Princeton. Sixth is not our place, child."
"I won't disappoint you," she said firmly, her head remaining lowered.
"You better not," he said gruffly. "As the future leaders of our family and this company, I demand nothing but perfection and your utmost devotion to your duties. I will no longer tolerate your childish rebellions and reckless pursuits. You have the freedom to explore the world, but know your limits. You are carrying our family's name and the world is watching every move you make. I cannot run a business if I'm worrying about my heirs forgetting those facts. I have better things to do than to lecture you on how to act the way you were taught to. Tomorrow, we'll be attending an event. The press will be present and you will clear these groundless rumors. I don't care how you do it, I just want it gone and dusted under the carpet by next week. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Father," the Lastor Siblings said in unison.
"Good," he said, satisfied with his children's submission.
But it seemed too easy. Way too easy that it made me uneasy how he was letting this go without a fret.
He turned to me, his smile making me break out cold sweat at how, despite its perfection, it couldn't hide his menace.
"Know the limitations of your status because the wall that keeps your personal life and career separated is very fragile, Dr. Richardson. One mistake can easily affect the other. And this-" He jabbed a finger on a magazine. "- is a fine example of your personal life greatly affecting your career. How do you expect to go back to your job and not have your colleagues question your competence when you are on the front page of every tabloid in the country seen canoodling with someone who is quite literally in the middle of your personal life and career? Complicated, is it not?"
"It is."
"And how should you solve this complication between your personal life and career?"
In between the lines, I knew he was saying, "Stay away from my daughter."
Unfortunately, it wasn't an option.
I pursed my lips, glancing at Angel before setting my gaze solely on her father.
"I respect you, sir. So I'm just gonna go ahead and say it." I paused, shifting to fully face him. "I have every intent to be with your daughter and I won't let anything stand in my way."
Andrea started stepping on my foot as she carried on eating while Jude was looking at me as if I had lost my mind. Maybe I had, but I was growing tired of bouncing around the subject and I couldn't stand another moment of pretension. I was never good at that nonsense.
"I assure you, I am not using her or anyone in your family to get ahead on my career. I genuinely care about her and I am thankful for the opportunities you've given me, but I won't hesitate to let that go if it's going to keep me from being with her. I believe I'm a good man and I will treat her right."
For a few passing seconds, Mr. Lastor just looked at me, his eyes cold and hard. His smile had vanished and his face had gone emotionless. The show was over now.
And then, his eyes shifted to Angel who was staring at me in disbelief. I wanted to lift Andrea up and put her aside since she was the literal wall separating us.
"Would you like to add anything on what Dr. Richardson said, Vivien?" he asked, his tone daring her to say something.
Our eyes met and I wanted to tell her to stand up for herself but when she looked away, I knew it would be for naught.
"Do you approve?" she asked. Submitting. Letting him rule her.
I clenched my hands into fists, gritting my teeth to hold back a few unpleasant words that hung by the tip of my tongue.
He tilted his head, looking at me, his eyes narrowed and piercing me with a sense of uneasiness.
"I do not."
I opened my mouth to protest but Angel beat me to it. "Then I have nothing to add."
"Angel," I bit out.
"I have nothing to add," she repeated firmly.
That was it.
"I do. Give me a reason why you should be against me," I demanded from her father. "If it's because I'm working for you, I'll hand in my resignation tomorrow. If it's because of her status, I can't do anything about that, but I can assure you it's not what I'm after."
"Then what are you after, Dr. Richardson?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Her," I said. "Just her."
His lips twitched, an amused smile emerging. "Her?"
He lifted his hand and brushed her hair, tucking it behind her ear. He grasped her chin, tilting her head back and she submitted, letting him turn her head form one side to another. Inspecting her like an object. I wanted to rip his hands off her.
"My daughter is quite the woman, isn't she? Brilliant, talented, wealthy, and beautiful. She's everything a man could ask for and that is by no means a coincidence." He set his gaze on me, his face unsmiling. "I molded her to be the epitome of perfection. Everything that you desire about her is the product of my doing. She is, by far, my greatest creation."
He turned her head to face me as he grasped her chin still. She didn't look at me.
"She's my most precious possession and you're asking me to let you have her all because you want her?" He arched a sinister brow, smirking in that way Angel always did. "You aren't the only man who has ever wanted her. I've had every type of man literally beg me for just a moment with her. What makes you so special?"
His question had my ego crashing down. What did make me special? Every man who caught sight of her worshiped her. What did I have that they don't?
"I have no wealth or power to offer her, that is true," I began, looking at Angel. "I've yet to achieve something worthwhile. I'm not king or an heir of anything, but what I am, sir, is an honest man and I like to think Angel appreciates that about me. That's why I have to admit, I don't think your daughter's perfect. She's a drug addicted alcoholic with anger issues and suicidal tendencies. Being with her is never easy. There are more bad days than good ones, but you know what? I'm willing to bear with it. I accept her flaws because I know it's not her fault she's like this, it's yours." I looked at her father. "Every bad thing inside her is because of you. You treat her like a pawn without a care what it's doing to her, it's despicable. You're the reason that she hates herself. Because of you, she can't see what an amazing person she can be. You've ruined your daughter, but all you care about is making sure she's still pretty enough to be paraded for the world to fawn over. Shame on you."
I stood, pushing my chair back, intent on getting the hell out of this place before I did something I would not regret. But first, I had to get her back to me.
I closed the short distance with us, holding out my hand as I stood beside her. I waited. Waited for her to take my hand. To tell me she wanted me. To fucking fight for me because I could not be the only one fighting for us.
But all she did was sit there. Unmoving.
I saw in her eyes that she wanted to come to me, but that wasn't enough. I needed her to say it. To prove to me I had a place in her life. But she shook her head, as if telling me that she couldn't.
I caught her father grasp her wrist, his touch making her flinch. More than ever, I wanted to rip his fucking hands off her.
"Is this what you want for your daughter, Mr. Lastor?" I spat in distaste. "She's miserable. She hates everything in her life. You don't even care that she's in pain. She's dying inside, but you don't give a damn. You're just using her and that, quite frankly, disgusts me."
His eyes turned deathly as he fixed me with a hard glare. I didn't back down.
"You must really have a death wish, boy."
I refused to let the unwelcome spark of fear that came with his words affect me. I was just so pissed off beyond belief at this man who dared to call himself a father. He was spitting on the title.
"Your daughter deserves better than what you've done to her. She's in so much pain and yet you pretend not to see it. You all do." I gestured at the pathetic lot, my gaze lingering on Jude. "You were right, Lastors really are the most fucked up people I've ever met. No wonder your sister hates being one." I looked at Angel, holding out my hand for her again. "Come with me. You don't deserve this."
Uncertainty. It was in her eyes as she looked at me. I caught her free hand raise, reaching for mine hesitantly, but her father's hold on her wrist tightened, his fingers digging deep into the bandages on her arm. I could faintly see blood staining them. I nearly lost my mind.
"You're hurting her!" I bit out but he just scoffed.
Who is this man? How could I have ever admired someone so despicable and heartless? I even aspired to be like him.
Tears filled Angel's eyes and I wanted so much to take her, but I had to let her come to me. It had to be what she wanted. She had to fight him.
"Baby, come here," I whispered.
She shifted, her chair moving back slightly.
"Vivien!"
She flinched, her body bristling as fear filled her eyes. She feared him so much. It was staggering how a daughter could fear her father the way she did. It was flat out abusive.
"I'm sorry," she mouthed as she shakily settled back on her chair, turning away from me.
"I am not leaving without you," I said firmly.
Mr. Lastor waved a finger at the two guards standing idly at one corner. They came towards me. Angel sprung to his feet.
"He is mine. You cannot touch him."
They glanced at their master. He urged them on with a nod, overruling her. When one of them grasped my arm, Angel lunged forward and pushed me to the side just as she slashed a knife at him. And then it started, the merciless and unrelenting violence delivered swiftly and quietly.
She had tackled him to the floor, digging her knife deep into his shoulder with one hand while beating his face with the other. When he tried to get him off her, she twisted the knife and pulled sideways, tearing his flesh open. He let out a strangled scream and she slashed at his face, slicing his cheeks. She kept hitting him, not making a sound apart from her heavy breathing and eventually stopping when he lost consciousness.
Blood was splattered everywhere, the stench filling my nostrils to the point that I could taste it. I was frozen, my heartbeat erratic and my stomach churning. No one had moved or said anything to stop her, just as astounded by the carnage as I was. As she stood and looked at me, I struggled to bear with her. It wasn't just fear or disgust for what I just witnessed, but most of all, concern for her.
A man laid dying by her feet and all I could think of was if he died, she would have crossed a line she had once told me she never dared to. She'd have killed someone, because of me. Because I was hers and he touched me.
I had to save him. For her. He can die at someone else's hands, but not hers. Not because of me. I can't do that to her and she can't fucking do this to me. I refuse to live with it.
When I tried to move towards him, she stepped in my way. Her blood drenched appearance should have terrified me, but it only angered me that she had been put in this situation.
"He's going to die," I managed to say.
I caught a shift in her gaze. I saw fear in her eyes. Fear not for herself, but for me. In the depths of those empty silver eyes, I saw her plead with me and even though she remained silent, I somehow knew what she wanted me to hear.
Get out
"Vivien. What do you think you're doing?" her father snarled, yanking at her arm.
Jude slammed a fist on the table, slowly rising to his feet.
"Enough," he said coolly, fury radiating from him. "You're going too far now. Let her go."
Gritting his teeth, he ripped his hand off Angel.
"Get him out of my sight," he ordered to the remaining uninjured guard.
"He is mine," Angel said in a hush voice when he approached me, pointing her knife at him. "You do not touch what is mine. That is the law."
The man held up his hands, backing away.
"Vivien," her father hissed.
"It is the law, Father," she replied, her voice growing husher and shaking ever so slightly. "Break it and I will make the rest of the family pay for the crime."
"You dare!"
"I apologize for the disrespect, but I insist you honor the law. What are we, if not for the laws we, as a family, impose upon ourselves? Wouldn't that make us no better than those beneath us?"
She turned her attention to me, giving me a small smile before closing her eyes and turning to face her father. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees at his feet.
She reached for his hand, bringing it to her neck and making his fingers wrap around the knife.
"You have me," she declared, holding the tip of the knife to her throat. "Do what you wish to me. Anything you want, I'll give it. But you cannot touch him. I beg you."
He glanced at me. "You will no longer associate yourself to that scoundrel."
"Done." She turned her head and looked at me. "Leave."
I shook my head. "We agreed no more leaving."
"Andrea," she called sharply. "Move."
Andrea stood, pulling Stella up with her and striding towards me. She grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me behind her, threatening to break my knee if I kept struggling.
"You're an idiot," Andrea said once we got to the elevator and gifted me with a hard slap across the face.