His lip curls. “Hook.”
“I’d make introductions, but I’m quite sure you’re already well acquainted.”
He stands still, his features frozen, until waiters bringing out salad force him to move. He clears his throat, pressing his hand against Tina’s back and moving her toward their seats.
Wendy’s body deflates. I look at her with a wide grin. That’s right, pet. Game over. Nobody plays against me and comes out with the upper hand.
The servers drop off the salad dishes, and I pick up my fork, excitement thrumming through my veins as I spear a cherry tomato, reveling in the way Wendy fidgets and Peter glares.
Leaning in, my arm still on the back of her chair, I place the fork in front of Wendy’s mouth. “Hungry?”
She presses her lips together, shaking her head.
I place it in my own mouth, the juices and seeds exploding on my tongue.
“Mmm,” I hum. “I do love popping a good cherry.” I grin at Peter, my arm dropping from the chair onto Wendy’s shoulders, my fingers tracing her bare skin. Wendy goes stiff as a board underneath me, her gaze trained on her plate. She’s suspiciously quiet, the brazen girl that’s been in my basement suddenly disappearing in her father’s presence.
I find that it irritates me more than it should.
“Wendy,” Peter sighs. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the mansion?” His eyes peer around the table. We have everyone’s attention, and it’s delicious, knowing he wants to make a scene, but can’t act out. But that’s the difference between Peter and me. He has to operate within the constraints of civil society, while I make sure to pad their pockets and dance outside of their edges.
Wendy’s head snaps up at his question, her knuckles whitening as they grip her fork. “What do you mean at the mansion?”
Tina’s hand reaches out to rest on Peter’s forearm, Wendy’s jaw setting at the movement.
Interesting.
“I think what your father is trying to say,” Tina starts. “Is that this is the last place we’d expect you to be.” Her eyes glance over to mine. “And with the last... person.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Wendy beats me to it, my hand falling from her shoulder as she leans forward, her eyes spitting lasers. “And why would it be so surprising to see me here? Because I wasn’t given express permission?”
Peter clears his throat. “Little Shadow—”
Wendy’s glare cuts to him, and arousal rolls through me at her ire.
“Maybe you don’t remember, Dad, but I used to come to these frequently with you.”
Peter glances around, all eyes on the outburst of his daughter.
“And for the record,” Wendy continues, her cheeks growing rosy. “I’ve never needed nor cared about Tina’s opinion on anything, especially concerning where she expects me to be.”
Tina’s mouth gapes open.
I smirk at Wendy’s outburst, heat swarming my body from how attractive she is when she’s swirling in rage.
“Didn’t you care to know where I was when your new security didn’t find me?”
My hand moves to rest on the back of her choker, my fingers slipping underneath the clasp and tugging as a reminder to watch her mouth.
Peter’s eyebrows raise. “Is that what this is? You running away because you didn’t like that I was trying to provide you protection?”
Wendy scoffs, stabbing the lettuce with her fork.
“Control your date,” Tina hisses at me.
I grin, leaning back against my chair. “Now, why would I want to do that?”
This is a delightful turn of events. I hadn’t expected her to be so upset with him.
“Wendy, this isn’t the time or the place.” Peter’s voice is sharp; commanding, as if he’s chastising a child. “Do we need to go somewhere and speak in private?”
Her eyes flick to me. I don’t move, wanting to see what she’ll do if given the opportunity.
She lifts her chin, inhaling deeply, and shaking her head. “No. We have nothing left to say.”
Pleasure at her obedience trickles through me like a leaky faucet, and I have to remind myself that she isn’t someone who I should reward for being good. She’s a traitor.
Although, it’s odd the way she’s interacting with her father, as if they aren’t on good terms.
His eyes stay on hers for long moments, something unspoken passing between them before Tina cuts in. “So, how did you two meet?” She waves her champagne glass between us.
I take a sip of whiskey. Because you sent her into my bar, you pathetic swine.
“He already told you, didn’t he?” Wendy cocks her head. “He popped my cherry.” Gasps sound around the table, and I choke on the liquid of my drink, my hand shooting to my chest to stifle the cough.
“Wendy,” Peter hisses.
She smiles wide. “What is it, Dad? Suddenly deciding to care again?”
Confusion slams into me.
I understand her anger at him not knowing that she was gone—honestly, the thought of it does rankle a bit—but I can’t imagine what she’s getting out of this. They were already working together to destroy me. It shouldn’t be a surprise that we’ve met.
Unless they had no idea.
My stomach cramps, my bruised heart twisting at the notion.
“I think the more important question,” Wendy continues. “Is how did you two meet?” She points her fork at her father and then to me.
Peter steeples his hands in front of his mouth, leaning back in his chair. “Nothing exciting there. We’ve met briefly for business.”
I chuckle, the tips of my fingers caressing the side of Wendy’s neck, my insides tightening with every pass against the choker. My brand of ownership. And a GPS tracker, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Oh, don’t be so modest, Peter,” I quip. “We’ve more than met. In fact, I believe you were well acquainted with those I’m closest with. Seems only fair I return the favor.”
The corners of Peter’s eyes tighten as he nods, his lips breaking apart to show his gleaming white teeth. “Yes, that’s true.” He looks around. “And where are they tonight?”
My body stiffens, rage spiraling through me like a windstorm. Wendy’s face snaps toward mine, her eyes trailing up and down before they go back to her father, narrowing the slightest bit. She drops her fork, and the noise of it clanking against the dish grates against my eardrums. Her hand reaches out, pressing against my chest and rising, until her palm cups my jaw. The shock of her touch is enough to clear the red haze filming over my eyes.
She leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Take a deep breath. People are starting to stare,” she whispers.
My lungs expand as I collect myself.
Wendy sits back and pins her father with a look. “What is that supposed to mean?”
My chest pulls tight at her question. Because again, if she was part of Peter’s plan, she would know exactly what that meant.
“Wendy, it was a simple question.” Peter sighs.
“That’s quite alright.” I smile as I pull Wendy in close, my hand smoothing down her hair. “I’ve found much more enticing company.”
Peter’s jaw tightens and he leans in, his eyes pleading with his daughter. “You have no idea who you’re sitting next to.”
Her jaw stiffens. “I know exactly who he is. It’s you I’m beginning to question.”
My heart stutters, his phrase cementing what I’ve been theorizing for the past few minutes.
She doesn’t know about her father.
And that means she never betrayed me at all.
32
Wendy
The rest of dinner is filled with tense stares, nothing but the scraping of silverware and the people who speak on the stage waxing poetic about solving injustices in the world by throwing million-dollar parties with thousand-dollar seats.
But my insides are raging.
“Shouldn’t you be at the mansion?”
He didn’t even know I was gone. I was kidnapped, and he didn’t even know I was gone.
I’ve been telling myself for months that I need to admit he isn’t the man I remember, but this is the moment where the piece of my soul that was clinging on finally breaks, falling to the floor and shattering into a hundred jagged pieces.
He didn’t even know I was gone.
But of course, he could show up here.
God forbid his image ever take a hit. His public image, that is. It’s clear as day to me now that he doesn’t care how I see him.
And there’s something going on with Hook’s friend, Ru. The silent conversation with the commissioner, the way his name sends Hook into a tailspin, and now my father mocking his missing friends—it has my nerves wired and on high alert.
I know why Hook has me here, that’s become very obvious, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why my father is taunting him.
Why he even deals with someone like Hook in the first place.