A Cosmic Kind of Love(85)

I slammed it shut behind me without even looking at it, and then I took a few steps toward him. It was shocking he couldn’t hear how hard my heart was pounding. “Don’t you ever come near Hallie again. And by that, I mean in any capacity. If she so much as has a client drop her, I’m going to blame you, and I’m going to blame you publicly.”

For the first time in my life, my father seemed visibly stunned. “I hope you’re joking.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life. Never mind the fact that you went behind my back and tried to pay Hallie to break up with me—I can’t even think about that and if you’ve done it before—but you threatened her.” My control slipped, and I was suddenly in his face. “You fucking threatened her, and it is taking everything in me not to put you on your ass right now. If you ever go anywhere near her again, I will let the entire world know what kind of bully you really are. And don’t think they won’t believe me—I’m the golden boy, and I’m not afraid to use it against you. I could give a shit how much money you have.”

There was just a flicker, a slight slip of my father’s control, that told me he hadn’t expected this.

Stunned, I watched him nod slowly. My father cleared his throat and took a step away from me, his gaze just a bit wary. I didn’t trust it. “I had no idea you felt seriously for this woman, and I was just trying to protect you and your reputation.”

“From what?” I scoffed. “Hallie is the best person I’ve ever known. There are no skeletons in her closet.”

“Her pictures and her job suggest a lack of seriousness.”

“So what, because she has pink hair and is publicly affectionate, she’s a—what did you call her? ‘A good-time girl.’?” Renewed anger surged within me, and I clenched my fists against it. “Hallie is one of the top event planners for one of the biggest management companies in the city. But even if she didn’t work her ass off for her job, and trust me she does, she would still be too good for me.”

I saw the slight sneer on my father’s face, and I laughed humorlessly. “You think you’re so above it. That money somehow makes you better than her and all these other people and, by way of blood, it makes me better. But how many people did you trample over to get to where you are? How many businesses have you fucked over? How many people despise you?”

My father scoffed. “You’re wrong, but even if you were right, I don’t need to be liked.”

“Not even by your own son?”

A muscle flexing in his jaw was the only hint that he cared even one iota if I liked him. “I’ll leave your girlfriend alone. I just hope you know what you’re doing, because from here it looks like you’re pissing your life away in every aspect.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“Oh, you’d like to think that. Poor Christopher. His father never cared.”

I hadn’t come here to do this, but for the first time in my life, I finally wanted to cut the bullshit between us. My father would never approve of me, and striving for approval I couldn’t earn was the ultimate Sisyphean task. “Poor me nothing. But yes, I think beyond how it affects your own reputation, you could not care less about me or Mom or anyone. I don’t know if you even cared about Miguel beyond grooming him to take over the company—”

“Enough!” My father slammed his fist on his desk, the objects on it bouncing upward with the impact.

Silence fell over the room.

“It doesn’t feel nice, does it?” I finally said, my voice quiet. “To have someone come to your office and attack you.”

“Well, she’s certainly influenced you, hasn’t she?” My father smoothed his hands over his hair and then straightened his tie, even though nothing was out of place. “Before her, you would never have been insolent enough to come in here and disrespect your father.”

“You threatened someone I care about. Did you honestly think I’d let that go?”

“It was a warning.” He sighed and looked out his office window. “And I suppose I don’t know you as well as I think I do.”

“You don’t know me at all.”

His gaze snapped back to mine. “I raised you.”

“No. My mother and several babysitters raised me. You only got involved when it suited you.”

He scoffed. “If you want to rewrite history and vilify me, go ahead. Can I expect the same in your book?”

“You don’t think it’s true?”

“Of course it’s not true.”

“I don’t know who you are,” I said, my voice a little louder with exasperation. “I don’t even know my own father.”

“More lies.”

“Oh, it is? What have you ever shared with us about your life? Why did you prevent me and Miguel from exploring our Mexican heritage? Most of the Spanish I know, which isn’t much, I learned from guys I served with. I know almost zero about my heritage. About your past.”

“Why do you need to? I worked very hard to provide opportunities for you that you would never have otherwise, and look where it has taken you. What does my past have anything to do with your future?”

“I don’t know . . . uh, maybe to feel connected to who I am,” I replied sarcastically.