Call My Bluff
Page 26
He was.
A huge deal.
Not only was he on Forbes 400 and one of America’s richest men, he also owned one of the biggest casinos in Las Vegas.
He was a king there.
Which was why he had no time for a daughter who was conceived with the fucking maid.
Yes, I was a walking talking cliché.
The dirty little fucking secret.
Shake made his way around his desk and I rose, my eyes following in confusion as I walked toward the door.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” I apologized, shaking my head for a second, trying to clear out the rush of emotions that were slamming into me, one after another, not allowing me to collect my thoughts even for a second. “I guess we just figured it would never be an issue, given that for my entire life he’s never even been down to Phoenix to visit me.”
Shake reached for a door handle and turned it, before looking back at me. “Well, mark your calendar, because he’s upstairs in the VIP room asking to see you.”
It took a good four or five seconds for me to actually process what the hell Shake was talking about. And by then he’d already stepped out the door and I could hear his heavy shit kickers stomping down the hallway.
“Wait,” I murmured, instantly realizing I was talking to myself before almost tripping over my own feet to get out of the door and catch up with my boss. “I’m sorry… you’re joking, right?” I tried to laugh as I fell in step with Shake, breathless and confused.
“Not kidding,” he answered with a gentle laugh that did nothing to ease the tension in my body.
I hadn’t seen my father in a little over six years.
A three-minute phone call twice a year didn’t mean shit. I spoke with my bank more often than that. I spoke with the nurse who took my yearly smears more often than that.
We pressed through the crowds, the thumping music that I’d just been mixing drinks to suddenly felt like a baseball bat being slammed against my skull. I was so fucking confused.
Shake grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop at the bottom of the staircase that led up to the VIP area. “He was asking the girls upstairs about you,” he informed me with a narrowed stare. “Look, do I need to call Huntsman? Is this something he’s gonna want to fucking know?”
I snorted, thankful in that moment that my uncle had gone back to Vegas since the party last weekend. “Probably, but I’d wait. Huntsman isn’t Alexander’s biggest fan. So, it would be nice to know why the hell he’s here before my uncle puts a hit out on him.”
He looked skeptical like he was contemplating how to balance this shit. Especially given that Huntsman wasn’t just my uncle, he was also Shake’s father-in-law. Not only did he not want to piss the man off by keeping shit from him, he also wasn’t about to let anything happen to me in the process. They’d have my back, like they were right now with Tyler and James—two club prospects—meeting us at the bottom of the stairs and nodding to Shake.
“You don’t wanna see him, I can go up right now and let him know,” Shake reassured me with a slight smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, obviously delighting in the idea that he could tell Alexander Presscott to get the fuck out of his nightclub.
That was the kind of reaction my darling father had on people. He was wealthy as hell, and he had worked hard to get to where he was. And by worked hard, I meant he wasn’t afraid to do what the hell he had to, or step on whoever the fuck he needed to, in order to get to where he was.
The king.
Right at the top.
Which was why I was confused as to why he was suddenly here.
In a Phoenix night club, looking for his illegitimate daughter.
It didn’t make sense.
“I need to know what he wants,” I answered, steeling my spine and forcing my shoulders back. It was a good show, looking like I was ready to face the world, but in actuality, I was feeling like a little girl.
The little girl I used to be, who was confused about why she wasn’t important enough.
The little girl who would watch all these other little girls with their dads—riding on their shoulders, going to daddy-daughter dances, and all that bullshit that never made sense to me.
We made it to the top of the stairs and Shake pressed his hand to my back, directing me toward the corner booth. I was surprised. It was usually the booth which was reserved for club members because of the way they’d lined the walls around it to keep some of the noise out. It made sure the boys could sit inside comfortably and have conversations or meetings with people.
This time though, there was my father.
Here we go.
Chapter Three
Coralie
Alexander Presscott spotted us and the moment our eyes met I felt myself push back against Shake’s hand.
He shoved a little harder, forcing me forward, almost having me land on my face as I stumbled ahead. “You want out, you just say the word and Ty and James will get you out,” Shake reassured me gently as we moved forward.
Alexander shuffled out of the booth, getting to his feet and buttoning up his suit jacket, his eyes watching me the entire time. He looked older than I remembered. His hair that had always been so dark was now a light gray. Its longish waves swept back from his face and curled behind his ear. It was unruly, but at the same time, completely tamed and perfected. His salt and pepper beard was much the same, streaked with grays and whites amongst the few dark bristles that were obviously still battling the aging process.
It was perfectly cut around his chin, though.
Shaped and manicured to perfection.
Because why would I expect anything less?
Shake stepped up beside me when we finally pulled to a halt, holding out his hand to my father. “Name’s Shake,” he announced, and the older man’s eyes shifted to Shake’s club cut before looking down at his hand for a brief second. I held my breath, but it was only a moment later that Alexander reached out with his own and shook. “I’m the manager, co-owner of the club, and Vice President of the Brothers by Blood MC.”
Shake wore his colors with pride.
Much like the other boys here, you would have to tear them from his dead body before he gave them up.
He didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought about them, and it was obvious at this stage that my darling father wasn’t all that fond.
“Alexander Presscott,” was all he answered, quickly averting his attention back to me. “Coralie,” he greeted with what seemed like a soft sigh. It surprised me slightly as he stepped back and motioned with his arm toward the booth. “Can we talk?”
It was awkward.
Uncomfortable.
But strangely, I didn’t want to walk away.
I wanted to know why he was here.
Why the sudden change of fucking heart?
Was he dying?
Was he going bankrupt?
Had he done something illegal and he was looking at jail time?
I don’t think any of the above would shock or surprise me.
I nodded, looking to Shake with a reassuring smile before I stepped past Alexander and slipped into the booth.
“Tyler and James will be here if you need them,” Shake announced with a nod and a look toward my father that resembled the edge of a blade—razor-sharp and dangerous.
It was a warning.
One that any smart man would have taken seriously.
I guess we were about to find out whether Alexander Presscott was going to do just that.
He slipped into the booth opposite me, his fingers intertwined and resting on the top of the table. “Would you like a drink?” he asked, nodding toward the short half-empty glass beside him. If I had to guess I would say whiskey—something expensive and probably much older than me.
My brow knotted, my head shaking back and forth. “No. I’m working,” I answered, pulling at the well-worn apron that covered my lap and pointing to the black shirt I was wearing with Empire’s logo clearly plastered
across the front.
“Right,” he agreed with a nod, clearing his throat.
I couldn’t stop the soft laughter that bubbled up from deep within my gut. It was a reaction to the way my stomach was churning and squeezing, forcing out foreign noises. I couldn’t stop it, but it honestly spurred me on. “So, what are you doing here?” I demanded, raising my brow. “It’s not Christmas… sure as hell ain’t my birthday, so to what do I owe this pleasure?”
Woah! Tell the man how you really feel.
Tyler was standing a few feet away, in my line of sight, and I didn’t miss the way his eyebrows raised and the corner of his mouth twitched.
It was harsh.
My heart slammed against my chest as I raced to get the words out before I chickened out.
I wasn’t usually shy, I didn’t have trouble speaking to people, sharing my opinions or standing up for myself when need be, but at the same time, I liked to avoid confrontation wherever humanly possible. It just didn’t do anything for my soul. It didn’t make me feel good. Actually, it made me feel fucking ill.
And I was already starting to feel that swirling nausea creeping up on me.
I couldn’t help it.
I wanted to know.
Why now?
“Guess I deserve that,” he grumbled, reaching for his glass and taking a sip, the ice inside rattling around. I kept quiet as he placed the glass back down and dabbed at his mouth with the back of his suit sleeve. Was he nervous? “I’m getting married.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, scrunching up my nose with a gentle shake of my head. “I’m sorry, when were you not married?” I demanded, forcing my eyes open again, fighting the way they had begun to burn, the tears inevitable. “Where the hell is Cruella de Vil?”
“You shouldn’t call her that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I practically choked out, throwing my hands in the air. “I have a few other creative names I could use. Maybe you’d prefer those?”
“Coralie,” he hissed, before sitting a little straighter, tugging on his jacket and rolling his neck. His eyes moved around, looking past me, checking to make sure no one was taking any notice of the scene I was making. That was me—the secret, the embarrassment. “It doesn’t matter. We got a divorce last summer.”
My brows shot up. “She’s been gone since last summer?”
Almost twelve months. Wow.
“I had some things to work through after she left,” he attempted to justify, his eyes finally meeting mine. There was something different. Something off about this man in front of me. I hadn’t seen him in years, hadn’t been in his presence since I was just a teenage girl, and yet I could feel some kind of vulnerability flowing off him.
It was in his eyes.
They weren’t dark and hard like I remembered.
And there were more wrinkles on his face.
That, along with the color of his beard and hair were serious signs that this man, who I had always imagined so powerful, so invincible, was in fact getting old.
“Did she take you for everything?” I wasn’t sure why that was the first question I asked.
He lifted his glass, pausing as it pressed to his bottom lip, and a cunning smile grew. “That is the beauty of a prenup.”
“What’d she get?”
“Not a fucking cent.”
My shoulders slumped and I leaned back into the seat. The reality that the bitch who had spent so many fucking years torturing me and driving a wedge between this man and me had walked away with nothing, and that right there was so damn satisfying. I just wish I’d gotten to see her squirm and scream as she walked out empty-handed.
Maybe I was more like Alexander than I thought.
“Part of me is glad, another part is furious,” I admitted with a heavy sigh. “But honestly, I’m kind of just wondering why the hell you haven’t learned your lesson? Ever tried being single? Sign up for Tinder? Have a one-night stand?”
He coughed, slamming his glass down on the table and beat his fist against his chest. “Jesus, Cora,” he choked out, fighting for breath.
“You know what Tinder is, right?”
“I should,” he answered, his voice still fighting to catch a break. “I own shares in it.”
My eyes rolled on their own.
I swear they did.
I had no control over what they thought was roll worthy.
“Of course, you do,” I snorted. “That how you met the new wife?”
He let out a soft chuckle, a warm smile coming over his face that instantly had me sitting a little straighter. That smile was different, it wasn’t tight, it wasn’t for show, it was something real—a rare sight. “I’ve known Dawn for a while,” he answered, the soft tone he used to talk about her, much different than I had heard before, even with Cruella. “Years.”
The question felt like little tiny pinpricks on the end of my tongue.
I should have just bit it, forced it back down and pretended like it had never even crossed my mind and just left it there. I could have just had a pleasant conversation with the man, appreciated that he was here, maybe even make it a first step.
But I couldn’t.
It burned.
It itched.
And that sadistic part of my brain that seemed to love to torture me, couldn’t help but damn-well scratch it. “You cheated on Cruella with her, didn’t you?” He stilled, his face changing almost mechanically. All signs of emotion now gone. “That’s why you’re getting married so quickly because technically you’ve been together for much longer than a year.”
“That’s none of your business,” he hissed, his eyes narrowed.
The burst of laughter that broke free from my lips made him jump. It wasn’t humorous, it didn’t have that same light airiness, it was simply pure shock and astonishment. Though, I wasn’t sure why. “I guess a leopard never really changes his spots, right?” I snarled at him, folding my arms across my chest.
I was protecting myself.
Protecting my fucking heart from this man who had ripped it out and stomped on it more than once. Family was meant to be your safe space. Family was meant to be people you could trust. Who you could rely on to have your damn back and protect you.
But honestly, it was your family who was the most dangerous.
It was them who could cause you the most heartache, the most destruction.
Because they were meant to love you.
They were not meant to have a choice.
So to have that person whose blood runs through your veins turn their back on you?
That was pain.
That was torture.
“I’ve made a lot of damn mistakes in my life, Cora,” he seethed, pressing his hands to the table and sitting forward. “But I won’t sit here and allow you to scold me for them.” Those eyes that I thought had softened were now steel—cold and calculated. This was the Alexander Presscott people knew. The businessman. The man who didn’t give a goddamn about who the hell he smothered as he climbed his way to the top.
One day you are reaching out, helping him up.
The next he has his foot on your face.
“All right, I think we’re done here,” Tyler interrupted, stepping right into the storm that was rolling in across the horizon. “Cora, let’s go.”
The tension whipped around us, the destructive force building, stealing my breath and making my heart race.
“I’m not done speaking with my daughter,” Alexander snapped, slamming his palm down hard. The sharp boom catching the attention of more club members who were scattered around the VIP area.
Tyler didn’t flinch though, ignoring the adult temper tantrum as he held out his hand for me.
“If you don’t want to get called out on your shit, then maybe you should try and keep your dick in your pants once in a while,” I retorted, taking Ty’s hand and allowing him to pull me from the booth.
Alexander followed us out, his shoulders forced back as he glared down at me. “Cora!”
I knew there was music playing, and the world moving around me, but in that moment, it felt like complete silence. It felt like we were the only two people in the world. And I either wanted him to fight for me—to tell me this was it, I wanted him to tell me he wasn’t leaving and that this was the moment he was going to stand up and be the man I had always needed–or that he was going to walk out, and this was going to be done.
Forever.
He held my gaze for what felt like hours, each second that ticked over stealing another part of my soul, another piece of me that I would somehow have to repair. Then he sucked in a deep breath, his lungs filling as he pushed his shoulders back, before turning on his heel and walking away.
I watched him go.
His shiny shoes reflecting the flashing lights of the club around him.
And when he disappeared around the corner and down the staircase, I released the gut-wrenching sob that I’d been holding inside.
“Thanks for letting me hang out here tonight,” I told Kennedy with a forced smile. “I just didn’t want to have to go home and explain to my mom why I was so upset.”
She reached out, leaning across the small round table, and pressed my hair back from my face in a motherly gesture. I couldn’t help but pull my knees up, hugging them to my body and leaning into her touch.
“You are welcome here any time. I’m sorry about what happened with your dad.”
I fought the natural cringe my body made at the mention of that name.
Shake had sent me home early.
It was only 11:00 p.m. and I was meant to be working until close.