2. Waste of Time
791 Words
|RYKER|
I can't believe I'm doing this.
After everything my so-called father has done to ignore me, push me away, and act as if I don't exist, he expects me to forget everything and start over.
Like hell, we can!
I'll never forget how my mother and I were treated throughout our lives. I'll never forget that I never saw my mother smile because of him. And I definitely can't forget that he is the reason I don't have a mom anymore.
Six months ago, my mom passed away due to an old illness. And this bastard didn't even have the guts to show up at her wake.
And he wants us to start over?
Fuck no!
I run a hand through my hair and pace the floor. I check the time on my wristwatch for the fifteenth time and growl lowly.
What the hell is taking him so long?
You know what? f**k it! I don't have to do this. I don't know why did I even put myself through it. I could have just called him, or dropped him a text, or whatever.
But I can't be held responsible for wanting to be better than my asshole father, can I?
All his life, he did the same with us. Leaving us messages on sticky notes, or asking his assistants to call us and tell us that he would be late, or that he would not be able to attend his own f*****g anniversary party because he had a meeting out of town, or that he had bought another home in a f*****g different city, and we could join him if we wanted.
Like f**k! Who even does that to his own family?
And yet.
Yet I show up after I get his voice message from last night.
Why? Because I wanted to tell him in person that he could f**k himself, and not bother me ever again.
But I couldn't even do that, because the asshole doesn't even have the courtesy to show up at his own drawing room and meet his own f*****g son.
The maid who led me in also disappeared from the face of the earth after she went to call my father.
I shake my head. This was such a waste of time.
Right before I head for the door, I hear someone asking me to wait.
I turn around to find the same middle-aged maid rushing over to me.
She pants, hands on her hips. "Thank God, you're still here."
I frown. "No need to thank anyone so soon. I am leaving anyway."
I turn around and start to leave.
"No, please. Please, wait." She follows me out the door and down the steps, and just as my driver opens the door, and I'm about to get in, she blurts out. "It wasn't his fault. It was mine."
I come to a halt, puzzled. "What?"
"I couldn't inform him you were waiting for him. I was waiting for him to be..." she flushes, her gaze crashing to the ground, hands fidgeting. "...to be done."
"Done with f*****g what?" God, I can't deal with this! Even his servants are f*****g stupid!
"With his mistress!" She says, and the anger simmering in my veins calms down for a few slow seconds. I take in the information. I process it in my head. And then, when I'm sure it means exactly what I heard, my temper shoots through the roof.
Fucking bastard!
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|CARLOS|
By the time I get downstairs and barely step into the dining room, I hear boots stabbing down the hall. I turn around just in time to find a young man storming towards me.
It takes a second for my foggy brain to connect what I'm seeing with what it means. The aftereffects of mind-blowing s*x could do this to anyone—it takes time to catch up with the real world. But Emma is so good at what she does that I don't mind being a little disoriented after our long and passionate shenanigans.
When Ryker throws a punch at me, thankfully, I react quickly. I easily avoid it, slide to the side, and turn around just in time to see him tumble forward until he crashes into the dining chair.
I purse my lips and c**k my head to the side, perplexed. "What in the world are you doing?"
My words appear to have a negative impact on him. Instead of calming down or explaining what the hell got into him so early in the morning, he whips around and throws another punch at me.
He manages to hit me square in the face this time. My entire face overheats, and I wince because it f*****g hurts.
"What the f**k, Ryker?"
- Writer
