Traditionally, her parents let the holiday pass in relative peace, with no political agendas or criticisms discussed around the dinner table. Yet, as Zoe rose to head back upstairs to her room and leave her parents with the privacy they normally enjoyed upon Theodore’s return, her father’s eyes shifted abruptly from his wife to his eldest daughter.
“Zoe, before you go anywhere tonight, we need to talk.”
Tension settled between Zoe’s shoulders immediately at the sound of his words, but she did her best to smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her mother’s lips purse and the rigidness of her shoulders. There was to be no arguing this, whatever it was.
“Yes sir.”
Knowing that whatever she wanted to do that night was going to have to wait until her father had the time to come talk to her, she headed upstairs and curled up on the plush couch in her sitting area, warmed by a crackling fire in the hearth of her personal fireplace. It was nice, and comforting, especially against the dreadful feeling that had curled into the pit of her stomach. She pulled her knees up onto the couch and reached for the cellphone she had left, at her mother’s demand, on the side table in her room.
I’m going to be a little late tonight, sorry. Family stuff.
She tapped the text out quickly and hit send, waiting for the pending icon to disappear before she set it aside and looked down into the fire. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she heard the gentle knocking on her bedroom door - it wasn’t as long as she had really expected him to keep her waiting. Even that knowledge made the sinking in her stomach worse. Theodore was a precise man, and he always attended to the most important matters first.
“Come in,” she called gently, straightening up so that she was sitting properly on the couch instead of reclined out comfortably. One ankle tucked carefully behind the other and she folded her hands in her lap, tracing the outline of one ring as she did so. Theodore entered with a gentle smile and shut the door behind him carefully.
So this was a very private conversation, she noted.
At first he didn’t say anything. He walked very slowly forward and stood in front of her crackling hearth, propping one hand on the mantle and leaning into the brace as he stared at the glowing logs. It wasn’t very often that her father was speechless, but she wasn’t going to interrupt his attempt at gathering his thoughts, mostly because she didn’t trust her voice to remain steady enough. His other hand was carrying a glass of amber liquid that she assumed to be a very expensive bourbon - served neat. That was his drink of choice and had always been such, ever since she could remember, even before she knew what to call it.
“Your mother thinks that you were playing a trick on her, you know, by bringing that boy here dressed that way.”
Zoe raised a hand to her mouth and cleared her throat, attempting to suppress the small smile before he caught it on her face. She hadn’t been wrong in assuming her father would hear about their visit just days ago, but whatever her mother thought, she hadn’t really intended to surprise her with that boy at all.
“I had to assure her that Boris had already mentioned his nephew’s rather interesting tendencies to me before that little incident. She’s still not very pleased.” He did finally turn then, pushing his weight off of the mantle and moving slowly to sit down in the chair that sat perpendicular to the couch Zoe was reclining on. He neglected to sit next to her purposefully, she realized, so that he could look her in the eyes without straining.
“I don’t know if you did it on purpose, thinking your mother would talk me out of it, or not, but -” he shook his head at her as her mouth opened, already prepared for her interjection and not willing to listen to it “but it won’t change anything, Zoe.”
The twenty three year old pursed her lips at being spoken to like a petulant child and crossed her arms over her chest in defense. Despite the conversation at hand, Theodore smirked into the glass as he brought it to his lips. She already knew it reminded him of her mother, he had remarked on their similarities too many times to count.
“He was just dropping me off. We were out getting acquainted, just like you requested,” although she was sure her father had expected them to go to nice dinners, not grungy clubs, “it’s not my fault that she took it upon herself to interject. He is who he is.”
Theodore’s smirk faded into a tight smile as he leaned back in his chair and propped the ankle of one foot on his opposite neat, resting the glass in his hand on the other. For a long moment, he studied his daughter in silence, watching the way her face was schooled. It had been a long time since she had been a carefree child, laughing and running through the halls of their home. There was, unfortunately, nothing to be done for the fact - she had to grow up, and she had to commit to the duties of the family. Cassia would too, in time, but he imagined it must have been especially difficult for Zoe as the eldest.
“I hope that you continue to enjoy him, Zoe, but know that even if you grow as tired of him as you have all of the other suitors we tried to quietly encourage you to pursue, this deal is final. It is no longer your choice.” Even to his ears, the words sounded cold and final. There was no missing the way her shoulders squared, or the fact that she couldn’t look him in the eyes when he spoke.
No. That wasn’t it.
Belatedly, he realized she was staring into the fire like she might be able to extinguish it with the cold glare. It was meant for him, but she was too respectful. It made his heart ache, just a little, but not so much that his mind would be changed. When she refused to speak, he continued, watching her intently as the storm in her raged silently.
“Boris and I expect to announce the engagement by the New Year, and you need to have your plans finalized for Valentine’s day.”
That did earn a reaction.
Zoe’s bright eyes flickered away from the fire to stare at her father, disbelieving. Again and again, she counted in her head, as if the dates would change and she would find an extra month she had forgotten. The hands that were folded in her lap curled in on themselves and the fingers tightened their grip so hard that the skin turned white beneath the pressure.
“That’s not even three months from now.”
Theo didn’t respond to his daughter’s statement, but simply nodded instead, and took a very long draw of his bourbon. He was watching her down the line of his sharp nose with an intensity that seemed almost predatory, a look she recognized. It was his eagle’s gaze, waiting for a reaction he was anticipating, one that he would strike down with a swift, harsh bite.
“I understand, Sir,” she said softly, robotically, and dropped her eyes from the older man. Lashing out would not help her and it would only earn his ire - he was expecting to have to put her in her place already. She could tell. She stared at her hands silently and refused to meet his gaze, lest he see the mix of anger and hurt that lingered there. She heard him as he rose, though, a soft swish of his nice pants against the fabric of her chair. The tall man leaned down and press a very gentle kiss against his daughter’s cheek, brushed back the bright hair from her face.
“It won’t be so bad, Zoe, you’ll see.”
She didn’t answer him, and he hadn’t expected her to. He simply crossed the plush rug that stretched across her seating area and pulled the door open. Just as he was about to excuse himself from the room, he turned back and looked at her where she was still sitting, staring at her hands and refusing to look at him.
“I know you aren’t getting along very well right now, but you should try talking to your Mother. She understands more than you know.”
The thick, lightly accented words still did nothing to persuade a reaction from her and he moved on, shutting the door behind him. The last thing Zoe wanted to do in that moment was talk to her overbearing, highly critical socialite of a mom about her forced betrothal.
Instead she reached for the cell phone and brought up the tab she had just left. Ryan was printed clearly across the top in bold, white lettering.
I’ll be there soon.
The text was sent with a mixture of different feelings, but she pushed them down and headed for her wardrobe. There was nothing to do in that moment but to continue on as if nothing had happened, as if the bars of her cage weren’t slowly sinking in to crush her.
Word Count: 1654
T e b i k ii
