Alina
“YOU SHOULD’VE LISTENED to me,” my father berated, puffing out his chest with the knowledge he’d found dirt on the one man I’d been falling for, essentially ripping him from my world in one fell swoop. He always thought he knew what was best for me, my entire life never really giving me a say in how I wanted my future to unfold. It just figured this time he’d been right.
Domestic violence. I still couldn’t believe it, but there it was in black and white, staring me in the face and telling me how foolish I’d been to let my hormones get the best of me. And even though I knew what I felt for Max went beyond lust, I shoved the notion way deep down because no good could come from the realization.
“I just can’t believe it,” I said out loud, more to myself than my father, but he took the lead in as fuel to ridicule me once more.
“That’s what you get for letting your loins lead you around.”
“Loins? Really?” Shaking my head, I proceeded to walk away from him and into the kitchen. I needed a drink, and I believed I still had a bottle of scotch in one of the cabinets. I hardly drank but kept something on hand for those times when nothing less would suffice.
My father followed closely, taking a seat at the island while I rooted around looking for the ten-year-old bottle. Once located, I poured myself a double and quickly downed it, looking to my father to see what his reaction would be.
He arched his brow, his telltale sign he was annoyed with me. But I couldn’t care less. This was my home, and I’d do whatever I damned well pleased, and if he didn’t like it, then he knew where he could go. Well, maybe he didn’t, but I’d let him know if he started in on me again.
I think I’m already starting to be affected by liquid courage. God only knew what would happen after another drink.
After another moment of dead silence, my father shifted on his stool and cleared his throat. Here we go.
“Now that you’ve seen Max for who he really is, you can stop messing around and make things right with Chris. I’m sure he’ll take you back, although you’ll probably have to do a small amount of begging.”
The amber liquid passed my lips once more, allowing me the strength, false bravado or not, to battle with the man who’d controlled my every move thus far.
“I’m not going back to Chris.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.” I raised my voice but thought better of it. I was in no shape to start a battle with him, not that night, not after everything that happened.
My father abruptly stood and rounded the island, coming to stand a few feet from me. At first, I thought he was going to relent on the topic, say something somewhat compassionate and take his leave. But no such thing happened. Although his face had softened some, the lines around his mouth and eyes not as etched.
“If you do not do as you’re told, I won’t hand over the position of managing partner to you when I retire, which will be sooner rather than later.” The sting of his statement, although not shocking, masked my inquisitiveness at the mention of him leaving the firm sooner than the five years he’d planned on.
The entire reason I’d gone along with his crazy notion of marrying me off to Chris was so that I could take over when he stepped down, knowing that a bit of sacrifice, aka my personal life, was what was warranted in order to help the countless number of people who needed it. But as time went on, and I’d gotten a taste of what it could be like for me to follow my heart and not my head, I’d started to question everything, making me think of other ways to accomplish what I wanted to do in the very near future.
Just because Max turned out to not be the man I thought he was, I was still grateful to him for waking me up to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to settle.
“I refuse to let you control my life any longer.” I stood tall, my hands finding their way to my hips. I was sure I was quite the sight, all red-eyed with my hair pulled up into a crazy bun and wrapped in an oversized robe. But I didn’t care. It was now or never, and with the liquor flowing freely through my veins, the opportunity was present, I was going to grab on tightly.
“Alina . . . ,” my father warned, flashing me his signature scowl.
“Don’t Alina me, Dad. I’m way too old to tremble because you don’t approve. You’ve never approved so I should be used to it . . . this feeling I’ve somehow disappointed you. But it’s you who’s disappointed me.” I licked my lips, and it was as if the action had been done in slow motion. “I’m not marrying Chris. End of. If you decide to hand over the position to someone else, then so be it.”
“What about all your do-gooder work you’re always going on about?” My father’s cocky question irritated me.
“I’ll start my own firm.” The words flew from my mouth before I realized what I was saying. The notion was crazy, one I’d briefly thought of before, but I’d always dismissed because I didn’t have the money to start up a new business. I could probably obtain some clients because of my name, but then again, if my father wanted to put the kibosh on anyone coming to seek my legal help, I was sure he’d do it, just to get me back under his thumb. Still, the idea was out in the open now, and I wanted to run with it.
He laughed. Genuinely laughed, which only served to piss me off. “With what money?” Oh yes, the obvious question. Where would I get the money from? My thoughts trailed off as I looked around me, my attention suddenly leaving my father and focusing on the walls around me, my head lifting toward the ceiling before coming back down to look toward the hallway.
All of a sudden, my father stopped laughing, a ridiculously sharp expression quickly taking hold. “Don’t you even think about it,” he shouted, pointing his finger in my face.
“Why? It’s not like I need all this space. It would do me good to downsize a bit, don’t you think?”
“I will not allow you to sell your mother’s place.”
“It’s my place. She left it to me. Me,” I yelled, hitting myself in the chest with the palm of my hand. “And I’ll do with it what I want.” What had started off as a surprise reveal turned into so much more. Of course I didn’t want to sell the home my mother had left for me, but it was spacious, with more room than I’d ever need. Besides, I held no sentimental attachment to the place since I hadn’t grown up there. No childhood memories would be lost with the sale of the townhome.
“I forbid it!” His blood pressure rose to a whole new level, the veins in his temple throbbing from apparent anger. I almost felt bad for upsetting him, but a part of me patted myself on the back for finally standing up to him, for challenging him and reminding him I was a grown woman, someone who he could no longer control.
I opened my mouth to continue to argue, or goad him, but he abruptly turned and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the front door behind him and making me wince.
And then . . . smile.