44
CORA
“No.” I shake my head and spin around so I’m facing Ivan, my back to my father. “I’m not doing this.”
“I told you she wouldn’t be interested,” my father mumbles.
I hate that he’s talking to Ivan like they have some secret connection. I hate that he is here.
I hate him.
I’m about to turn around and tell him all of that when Ivan puts a hand on the back of my neck. His touch is firm but gentle. “Hear his side of the story before you decide.”
“I know his story,” I hiss. “I know what he’s going to say.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I frown. “Why do you care, Ivan? How do you know him?”
“I was desperate to find you. Yasha reached out to your dad and he met with us. He helped.”
My eyes go glassy. Not because my dad showed up to a meeting—that’s the literal least he could do for his only daughter. No, it’s because, while I was stuck in Alexander’s house, forced to play at marriage with Mikhail, Ivan was looking for me.
He never gave up.
I nod. “Fine. I’ll hear him out. But I’m not doing it for him; I’m doing it for you.”
Ivan presses a kiss to my forehead. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”
When he walks away from me, I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him in place. But I calm my racing heart and turn back to my father.
Marcus St. Clair looks exactly like I remember him and nothing like it at the same time. I almost forgot how similar we are. We have the same dark hair and green eyes. I now remember where I got my pointed chin. It certainly wasn’t from my mother.
But he looks different, too. There are gray strands speckled through his hair. His jawline is less sharp. I remember him being a tall beanpole—even as a little kid, I could get my arms most of the way around his legs. Now, he’s rounder. Softer. He hides most of it behind a sharp suit, but it’s easy to notice those kinds of things when you haven’t seen each other for…
“Well, how long has it been?” I ask, a surprising amount of venom in my voice. “A decade? Longer?”
“It’s good to see you again, Cordelia.”
He sounds so calm. So level-headed. I hate that, too.
“My name is Cora,” I grit out.
“That’s right. Ivan said something about that. Sorry. Old habits and all.”
I snort. “Not much of a habit if you haven’t seen me since I was a pre-teen.”
His mouth twitches. “There were a lot of years where I was there.”
“You know, when you put it that way, there were a lot of years where I didn’t know Mikhail and Alexander wasn’t trying to force me into marriage. Maybe those few pesky weeks were just a blip.”
“Don’t compare me to him, Cordel—Cora. It’s not fair.”
“Don’t talk to me about what’s fair,” I spit. “If life was fair, I’d tell Ivan to kick your ass out on the curb and I’d never see you again.”
Marcus glances over his shoulder towards where Ivan’s silhouette is visible just behind the glass. “You could. He’d do it, too. I think he’d do just about anything for you.”
If he thinks complimenting Ivan is going to put him on my good side, he’s wrong. It just makes me want to push him farther away. What I have here is good. I don’t need anyone from my past coming along to ruin it.
“Maybe that’s why you should hear me out,” he adds. “If he thought I was a bad guy, would he have let me into his house?”
“You don’t know anything about us. Don’t talk about him. This is about you and me. This is about whether I want you here or not.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He looks down at his feet.
Is that shame? Does he feel guilty? Did he think of me while he was gone? I’m not sure if any of it makes any difference.
He looks back up with a sad smile. “I guess that’s all I can say: I’m sorry. I want to know you. Who you are now. Who you’ve become.”
“Convenient that you decide you want to know me now that life is finally good. I’m living in a big mansion and then boom, here you are.”
“This has nothing to do with where you’re living. I didn’t know where you were before this or I would have come to you then.”
“You knew we were in a homeless shelter,” I interrupt. “Didn’t you? After we left, you knew we were living on the street. Mom said you refused to help us.”
He looks away from me. It’s as good as an admission. Neither of us have ever been able to lie for shit.
“That’s what I thought. You didn’t care what I was up to back then,” I sneer.
“Your mother took you and ran. I didn’t know—”
I want to plug my ears, but I settle for shaking my head. “You left! You abandoned us.”
“No! No. She ran away. She met Alexander and didn’t want anything to do with me. I wanted to help you, but I didn’t know if the money would go to him or… I just wasn’t sure what to do.”
“She met him after we were already on the streets. The only reason she is with him is because she was poor and desperate.”
“I know that’s what she told you, Cordelia, but the truth is—”
“Cora,” I grit out. “For the last time, my name is Cora.”
He runs a hand down his face. He looks as exhausted as I feel. “Your mother told you a lot of things, Cora. My guess is a lot of them weren’t true. I didn’t abandon you. She was cheating on me and she left to be with him. What happened after that, I don’t know for sure. But I know I didn’t leave.”
I remember being huddled next to a bench one night, trying to blend in so none of the beat cops on patrol would bother us. My mom fell asleep crying. “He won’t help us, Cora. He’s going to leave us out here to die.”
I thought she meant my dad, but maybe…
My head is swimming. He’s telling a much different story from the one I’ve known the last ten years. But even worse, I know he’s lying. At least about one part of it.
My chin wobbles. I work hard to keep it steady as I meet his eyes. “Whatever happened with her and Alexander and you, you did abandon me. You disappeared. You left me with them even when they…”
I can’t make myself say it. I haven’t seen this man for almost half of my life. What kind of explanation do I really owe him?
Still, his face crumples. He lifts a hand like he wants to reach for me, but he thinks better of it and lets it fall to his side.
“You’re right,” he says finally. “I wasn’t the one who left first, but… I still left. I should have fought harder to see you and to get custody. I thought your mom would come back once you’d been on the streets, but she didn’t. Then she was with Alexander and I thought you were happy there. I thought—never mind. It doesn’t matter what I thought. I fucked up, Cora. Big time. But I want to try to make up for it starting now.”
I have half a mind to ask him what he wants from me. Everyone else seems to want something. My mom and Alexander want to use me like a bartering chip. Mikhail wants me to be his thoroughbred breeder. Francia used me as a decoy.
Ivan is the first person in my life who wants me for me. I’m not ready to believe there are other people like him.
Not yet.
“Can you forgive me?” my dad asks. “Could we try to start over?”
At one point, I would have lied. Out of fear that he would get upset and never see me again, I would have lied about what I wanted. What I needed.
Not anymore.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “This is a lot. I’m not sure what to make of it all. I need time. Maybe a lot of it.”
Disappointment flashes across his face, fast and furious, but he wipes it away and nods. “Okay. That’s understandable.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds before he takes a step back towards the door. “I guess I should… I’ll leave.”
“That’s probably for the best,” I say softly.
“Ivan has my number if you need anything. Or if you don’t need anything. Just… if you want to talk.”
I can’t meet his eyes as he walks away. I don’t want him to see me cry.