Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
He showed me another way and now all of the resentment I’ve been cultivating deep inside for so long is beginning to seep out.
“Why?” he turns to face me. His expression is curiously blank like he’s not quite sure how he feels. I take the ring Ford gave me from my pocket and slip it onto my finger. Grandfather watches the gesture, and he grimaces like I kicked him right in the stomach. His right hand presses against his chest, and I worry I’m giving him a heart attack, but Grandfather remains standing and glaring at me, and I have to remind myself that this is all a performance.
“You told me that I needed a husband. Well, I found one.”
“This is not what I meant,” he says sharply. “I wanted you to marry a man of my choosing. A suitable man from a good family. Not some upstart pseudo-gangster piece of garbage like that Ford Arc. Do you know the sort of men he associates with? His whole family is trash and you know it, and now you’re going to wave him in my face? Why are you doing this, Katherine? Haven’t I been good to you and your mother?”
I clamp down on a thousand answers. I want to tell him exactly what he’s been like—controlling, demeaning, aggressive, horrible—but that won’t fix anything here. And if I’m honest with myself, I feel my resolve beginning to waver. This is Grandfather, the head of my family, the man I’ve always listened to and looked up to and wanted to impress since I was a little girl, and now I’m going against him. I’m hurting him. What is wrong with me?
My only goal right now is to get through this conversation in one piece and accept whatever happens from here on out. I’ve chosen my path and now I’m going to walk it, even if it hurts.
I say, “Ford is from a good family, and we have an understanding.”
“An understanding. Which means you’re fine with whoring yourself to an Arc.”
“Grandfather,” I say and my own impatience shows through. “If this is whoring then that’s what you were trying to do to me before I made this decision.”
His eyes widen, and we’re plunged into silence again. He grunts, turns away, and walks to a nearby shelf where he has a built-in humidor. The tobacco stench triples when he opens it, chooses a cigar, cuts it, and lights it. The smoke curls up toward the ceiling. He’s not supposed to smoke anymore, the doctors told him it was bad for his heart, but apparently, he doesn’t care right now.
“You will give up on this rebellious fantasy.” He gestures at me with the glowing cigar like he wants to put it out on my skin. I bet he would, too. Some part of me trembles at the thought. “I don’t know who put you up to it, your mother perhaps, but—”
“No,” I say and shake my head. “She had nothing to do with this and I’m not going to stop.”
“Katherine. Why would you do this now, of all times? You were so close—”
“To doing whatever you want?” He blinks at me as if that’s a bad thing, and I push forward even if every part of me is screaming to stop. This is Grandfather! I can’t disobey him! “Ford’s my choice, Grandfather. I know you hate his family, but maybe this can be a bridge. Maybe we can put the feud behind us and finally move on. You can talk to Ford’s family—”
“I’d rather die.”
“Then you can at least stop coming up with new ways to destroy them. Grandfather, please. Ford isn’t what you think he is.” Although I’m not sure that last part is true.
Grandfather watches me, puffing away. Smoke thickens, whirls in swirling movements through the air currents, and obscures his face until he finally waves it all away.
“You’re right,” he says, and I lean back in shock.
“I am?”
“No, not about what you said. But you’re right that we can look at this as an opportunity.”
“An opportunity… how?” I ask, dreading the answer, but he doesn’t speak. He walks away from me and stares at a window, his back straight. He waves the cigar around like he’s conducting a symphony and I try not to groan. Grandfather does this when he’s thinking, and it’s the most absurd aspect of his personality, but at least he’s not yelling at me.
Slowly, he turns around again.
“You will spy on the Arc family for me.”
“Grandfather,” I say sharply. “You have to be joking.”
“I am not joking at all. If you’re serious about this then we will make the best of a bad situation. Find out whatever you can about them, from their finances to their properties to their debts and their investments, everything you can about their restaurants and their business. Feed it all back to me.”