White hot anger flows through my veins, setting my blood on fire. I want to kill him. Wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until he’s not breathing any longer. Not that I could do such a thing, but every time he acts like this, which is pretty much every time I see him, he makes me hate him more.
It’s a lot more complicated than that though, my relationship with my dad. I also love him. Still seek out his approval despite how much trouble he causes.
And Vinnie DeLuca causes an enormous amount of trouble everywhere he goes.
“Let’s find you somewhere to sit,” I tell my dad, grabbing hold of his arm again and leading him toward the tables where guests sit and eat. He jerks against my hold, muttering a string of curse words in protest, but I ignore him. The old man might be the same size as me, but I’m younger and stronger.
“You’re manhandling me like you’re gonna kick me out of here, son,” he says when I push him into a seat. Thank God this table is empty. I don’t need him spouting off to other guests.
“Just trying to help you out, Dad,” I say through my clenched teeth. Glancing around, I check to see if anyone is watching, specifically anyone from the media, but for the most part, no one’s acknowledging us.
Thank God.
“Mr. DeLuca! It’s a pleasure meeting you.” Bryn appears in front of the table, an angel in magenta clutching a white coffee mug. The smile on her face is as bright as her eyes, and she shoots me a knowing look before she returns her attention to my father.
“Well, well, who’s this pretty young thing?” Dad takes the mug from her and sips, wincing when he discovers what it is. “Coffee?”
“Decaf. And laced with whiskey.” She winks at him, then winks at me, and I know she’s full of absolute crap, just saying that to make him happy. God, I could hug her for this. Kiss her.
Not that I need an excuse to kiss Bryn. My body is still humming from our shared kisses.
“Thank you,” Dad says gratefully as he drinks from the cup, finishing off half of it in a couple of swallows. “It’s good.”
“Miss James is notorious for making the best cup of coffee around,” I say, hoping she can hear the gratitude in my voice.
“You know her, son?”
“She’s my assistant.” I wave a hand between them. “Dad, this is Bryn James. Bryn, this is Vinnie DeLuca.”
“Lovely meeting you.” She takes Dad’s proffered hand, literally batting her eyelashes at him. I swear I hear a hint of her Texas twang when she speaks.
And it’s sexy as hell.
“Likewise.” Dad won’t let go of her hand, and she has to tug out of his hold as discreetly as possible, not that he notices. “You’re a looker, darlin’. Where you from?”
“Why, Cactus, Texas, sir.” More batting of the eyelashes, her voice is syrupy thick with the accent. She’s flirting with my dad and I don’t know if I should be horrified or thankful.
She doesn’t really . . . want to flirt with him, does she?
“Well, what do you know, I met a hot little thing who lived near Cactus years ago, when I was on one of the farm teams. That was a long, long time ago though.” Dad grins, most likely reliving the memory and enjoying the hell out of it.
“I probably know her. Not many people ever leave Cactus,” she says.
“Miss James, can I speak with you for a moment? Privately?” I rest my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “You’ll be all right alone so you can eat, right Dad?”
“Of course. Go handle your business with your Miss James.” Dad waves a hand, cackling wickedly. “You sure are smart son, more than I give you credit for, hiring a looker like this one. I bet you chase her around your desk all the damn time, trying to get your hands on that ass. I know I would.”
Bryn stiffens, her expression frozen with shock. I see it happen right before my eyes. She looks at me, her gaze a little wild, her chest rising and falling with her accelerated breaths.
I have no idea why his words triggered that strong of a reaction, but, of course, my dad’s involved so what else is new? The man offends women—everyone—on a constant basis.
“Dad. Come on. Show the lady some respect,” I say, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.
“Yeah, yeah.” Dad starts digging into his food, not bothering to offer her an apology, and I feel like shit.
This night is going from bad to worse at a rapid pace.
Bryn
MATT STEERS ME to a dark corner a few feet away from the packed courtyard so we’re standing beneath a mighty oak that actually doesn’t have a string of lights wound through the branches. His expression is grim, his gaze contrite as he turns to face me.
“I’m sorry.” He runs a hand over his face, looking downright traumatized. “My father is an ass**le, and I can’t believe he said those things to you.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly, my heart still panging from Vinnie DeLuca’s earlier words. They’d cut way too close to the truth, reminding me of my old boss.
And of how I haven’t changed a bit, even though I think I have. I fall into the same habits time and again, self-destructive to the point that I’m wondering if I seek this sort of attention out.
Was I so neglected as a child that I prefer any attention, good or bad?
“No, it’s not okay. You came sweeping in, handling everything perfectly and he still treats you like that. He’s awful.” Matt blows out a frustrated breath and rests his hands on his hips, staring out at the courtyard. The music has picked up the pace, and people are actually dancing. The wine is flowing and being praised; the grounds are still packed with people. The party is a huge success.