He shrugged as he continued to eat his salad. “Patricia said he’s busy today.”
“So, he went to work?”
“I don’t think so. He usually has coffee with me before he goes.”
That wasn’t a good sign. “I’ll stop by and say hello before I go.”
He poured more blue cheese dressing on his salad even though he clearly had enough.
“Dad.” I grabbed the dressing bottle and pulled it away. “What’s the point in eating a salad if you’re gonna drown it in dressing?”
“What’s the point in eating a salad at all?” he barked. “Lettuce doesn’t taste like anything.” He didn’t reach for the dressing again, but he wasn’t happy about it. “Patricia is a great cook, but all this healthy shit is overrated. Every time I ask her to make me a burger, she gives me this vegan bullshit—with no cheese. What is that? She always says she’s out of real beef burgers, but I don’t buy that. Damien is running this place like a goddamn prison.”
I had a lot more respect for my brother for taking my father in. He was a sweet man, but when it came to food, he could lose his temper easily. When he lived alone, all he ate were frozen dinners and fast food. His blood pressure was through the roof, and his waistline was growing. He’d put on some weight when he first moved in with Damien. But now that he’d been here for a few months, he’d lost at least twenty pounds. “I think your son has been really generous taking you in. You have everything you need, someone to make your bed every morning and clean up after you, and your son is in the same house if you need anything.”
He seemed to be embarrassed after he heard what I said. He dropped his gaze and sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just miss eating the way I used to…”
“Well, you can’t. That’s just how it is.”
He grabbed his fork and flicked off all the extra dressing he’d added, finally complying.
I smiled. “That’s better.”
After lunch, I went to the third floor and knocked on Damien’s bedroom door.
“What?” His deep voice was full of irritation.
Geez, he was in a bad mood. He had no idea if it was Patricia or his father, and he still spoke that way.
I opened the door and poked my head inside. He sat at the dining table shirtless, his laptop in front of him, a scowl on his face. “Just wanted to stop by and say hello.”
His eyes pulled away from his screen, and he glanced at me, his fingertips resting against his lips. His expression didn’t change as he looked at me.
My eyes immediately surveyed his appearance, making sure he wasn’t seriously injured.
He rose from the chair and walked into his closet.
I stared at his bare back, not seeing anything alarming.
When he returned, he was wearing a shirt, covering up his nakedness in front of me. That scowl was still part of his expression, like the last thing he wanted to do was visit with me. He sank back into the chair. “How’s Dad?”
I walked over to the chair across from him, and now that I was closer, I could tell that he’d been struck in the head. There was a dark discoloration under his hair, like he had a fresh scar. I tried not to stare at it too much, to wear my heart on my sleeve. “Hates the food…”
“What’s new?”
“He tried to pour the entire bottle of dressing on his salad. I told him to knock it off.”
“Yes. He’s been asking for a burger every week since he moved in here.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that.”
His gaze turned back to his laptop.
So, I stared at his injury further, telling myself that it was nothing for a strong man like him.
“Yes?” His eyes darted back to me.
“What?” I asked, caught off guard.
“You keep staring at me.”
“Well…you look like someone hit you in the head with a crowbar. Are you okay?”
He sighed and closed his laptop. “I’m fine.”
“Then why aren’t you at work?”
“Because I don’t have to go to work,” he snapped. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
He was really pissed about last night. I’d sabotaged his plan, and now he was furious it didn’t work out the way he wanted. It was all my fault…and I felt so fucking guilty. The bruise on his head was because of me. “I just…want to make sure you’re okay. I love you.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.
His eyes were less hostile. “Cat, I’m gonna be fine. I’m not dying.”
“I know… I just hate seeing you hurt.”
“I’m not hurt. It’ll heal.”
“What happened?”
He stared at me for a long time before he answered. “Just work bullshit. But it’s fine. It’s just a setback.”
“A setback?”
“Yeah. I’ll take care of it later.”
So, Damien wasn’t going to stop. He was going to keep fighting Heath forever. “Maybe you should just let this go—”
“Maybe you should mind your own business.” His voice rose, echoing in the large room as he gave me a cold stare.
“I just care about you, alright?” I countered. “I don’t want you to get yourself killed. Why don’t you just retire? You’re gonna ask Anna to marry you. Hades retired, so why don’t you?”
“Hades and I aren’t the same person.”
“Then maybe you should be the same person. Come on. Think about it.”
He shook his head. “You’ve never been worried about me before, so where is this coming from?”
I tried to think of something fast. “Anna was captured. Some guy broke in to your home. You had to fight some guy in a death match. Yeah, I’m fucking worried. You have plenty of money, and if you really don’t want to be home, keep working at the bank. But there’s more to life than your business. You and Anna could travel. You could start a family. There’re so many things you can do.”
“Quit ballet.”
I turned quiet, my eyebrow raised. “What?”
“What if I told you to quit ballet? You could break an ankle…a knee.”
“Not the same thing—”
“It is the same thing,” he snapped. “I built this empire, and I’m not gonna walk away from it yet. I told Anna I would leave once we start our family, but not before. She accepted that, the woman I’m gonna marry, so I don’t see why it matters to you.”
“It matters to me because I fucking love you, Damien.” My voice rose. “I want you to live a very long time. I want you to be an uncle to my kids. I want to be an aunt to yours. It matters to me a lot.”
His anger was sheathed. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Trust me, this is nothing. I’ve been through much worse.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I snapped. “You’re just proving my point, Damien.”
He sighed in irritation, his gaze moving out the window. “I appreciate your concern, but let it go.”