The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(61)

“I thought you were her date to this event?”

“I am because she’s my girlfriend.” My hand once again clenches, this time at his words. The confusion stays on my dad’s face, but when his eyes dip to my cake plate, empty of everything but crumbs, a small smirk plays on his lips. New target found, like questioning my date’s motives weren’t enough. I dip back almost unnoticeably into my seat.

Even when I was a child, when he was playing doting father and waiting out the years until he wouldn’t have to reveal his worth and pay for it, he always made it clear how he felt about my sweet tooth. We’d get ice cream, and he’d suggest low fat or sugar-free. I developed late, going from an overweight child to a curvy developed teen at fifteen, but there were about five or six years where my dad never let a day go by without mentioning my weight. Slight digs like, “Do you really want another serving?” Or, “No dessert tonight, you can spare to skip a day.”

His eyes on my plate, the smirk on his lips… shit. I should have said something to Luke. Should have prepared this protective man.

“Enjoyed the cake, Cassandra?” I don’t respond, don’t give him what he’s looking for. “Seems you did.” Again, nothing. “Maybe you should have skipped it. All things considered.” Even though I’m expecting the blow, my face burns with embarrassment. Not in front of Luke, who has already seen me, my body, my insecurities. Who has seen me cry, heard my story. “Some things never change, huh? I’m surprised you chose such a fitted dress.” I never know why he does this. Why he feels the need to be cruel to his only daughter.

“Excuse me?” Somehow, in my embarrassment, I missed Luke leaning in to listen, his body tense, the heat roiling off him.

“Luke—”

“You must know. She’s not, well... built for indulging.”

“I must have heard you wrong.”

“Luke—”

“Are you saying your daughter shouldn’t be wearing this gorgeous dress or eating cake because you are judging her body?”

“Not judging, just stating the obvious.” Even Veronica is now trying to flee, trying to pull my dad away. I have to wonder how much he’s been drinking to be this obviously cruel in front of his peers.

“I see nothing but a gorgeous woman. Fucking beautiful.” Luke’s eyes are burning, but my dad, too wrapped up in himself, too oblivious to notice, just keeps going.

“I see she’s got you too. Fooled you. It’s nice now, the curves. A nice handful.” I feel sick to my stomach, the cake roiling and churning. But once she locks you down, that ends. She’ll have kids and get fat, and then what? You’re stuck with a bitchy wife with nothing to offer. You divorce her and she’ll get child support or alimony for as long as she can. Don’t fuck up like I did. Get the prenup, son." He winks at Luke like he’s divulging some genius father-son advice.

“You’re out of your fucking mind.” Luke stands, and I follow, unsure of what else to do, wanting to end this, wanting to interrupt but also…

Also, a part of me wants to see what happens.

Eyes are on us. Not just the family, who looks on with small smiles and quiet chuckles, the family who have all said the same behind my back and to my face since I was 18. But also business partners and friends are watching, their faces a mix of shock, awe, and disgust.

For years, ten long years, I thought maybe this was just how it was with money and class. Constant barbs and subtle digs. Mean words. Maybe my father didn’t know any better; he was so inundated in the lifestyle he couldn’t see around it. But meeting Luke’s family, equally well off… Seeing the business partners shocked and horrified…

“Now, Dawson—”

“The fact you cheated on her mother for years is your business. Even the fact that you barely talk to your daughter—your own business. The fact you clearly invite her to these events to use as a punching bag, to get a laugh? Fucked. But the fact you look at your daughter, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and say that, make a young girl feel shame in her own body, fuck with her confidence, fuck with her emotions and how she sees the world? You’re scum.” My dad stutters, trying to find the words. It seems no one has ever thrown this kind of thing in his face. But the whole time, flashes of Luke punching my date poke through, mixing with the images in front of me, and I fear it might go too far. My hand reaches out, grabbing Luke’s, squeezing hard to remind him I’m here, where we are.

“You’re done here, Cass.” His hand goes to grab the small gold clutch I brought with me. “Done with this wedding, done with this man. I’ll spend my last breath keeping you from him. You don’t deserve this. His only daughter he treats like this? Kind and beautiful, inside and out.” He helps me with the thin jacket I wore from our hotel room. “You want to change your shit, you come to me. You come talk to me and I’ll decide if you get that chance. Any business dealings with Dawson Financials? Consider them done.” He puts on his own jacket before grabbing my hand again, curling strong fingers around my trembling ones.

“You can’t—”

“I can and I will. My father is a family man.” Looking around, a few shocked couples are also getting on jackets, leaving. This isn’t happening. It can’t… not for me… “He finds out you treat blood like this, any ties you have are severed. I’m a lot like my father, cuttin’ ties easy.”