Claiming My Fathers Best Friend

ASTRID

"Don't you dare walk out on me, Astrid, this is all your fault!" Tristan barks, his eyes bulging as rage burns in their depth.

He's being ridiculous and the last thing I want to do tonight is stand here and listen to him act like a fucking child. I grab the door handle and cross the threshold, stepping into the balcony. Before I can take another step, I hear his footsteps hard and fast behind me, and then the scent of his cologne wafts into my nostrils, making me feel nauseous and irritated.

"Go away, Tristan. I have nothing to say to you." I mutter, closing my eyes as the cold air brushes my skin. The sun has set and the cloud is darkening with an intensity that matches the storm brewing inside of me, casting an ominous shadow over everything I've believed in for the past three years.

Tristan and I met at a fundraiser three years ago. It wasn't love at first sight but a bond that was fostered by our parents' stance in society. His father, Keith Blackwood owns half the city and has several businesses scattered all over the city and beyond. Same with my father. Tristian is in charge of the hotels and resorts. Sometimes, I feel like the fame has gotten into his head but then, he's always been a brat. I was just crazy enough to stick by him and make excuses for him every single time his demons surfaced.

"You don't mean it, babe. You can't possibly ask me to leave." His voice is sober. I know he's trying to crawl through the walls I've suddenly erected like he does each time we fight and I turn on his ass.

"I had a long day at the office. Being a rookie amongst people who have been in the field even before I was born is no walk in the park. I ..."

"Because you chose to go through all of that when you can work with me or your dad!" He snaps in a disapproving tone. "I told you I have just the perfect spot for you in one of the resorts. You can stay here with me or go to Australia, London ----"

"I don't want to work for you or my father I'm not a fucking charity case!"

He scoffs. "But you're slaving in that company for peanuts!"

How did we get here?

"I love my job as a financial consultant, and I'm going to earn every spot, every single benefit that comes with the job. I don't want you breathing down my neck every chance and belittling my effort."

"That's not true! I love you and I want what's best for you, babe."

I tilt my neck and toss him a glare. "You think?"

I pause, watching him suck in a breath. God, I can't believe I've put up with this man for this long. I should have dumped his ass after I noticed the first red flag. "You question my decision. You doubt my strength. Walk all over my emotions." I turn to face him, staring right into his blue eyes that are now consumed by rage. "I was looking forward to spending the night with the man I love. It was supposed to be our anniversary but you ruined it with your despicable attitude, treating me like a child in the middle of a restaurant!"

"I want what's best for you and having a cream lobster bisque would definitely ruin your shape!"

Bloody hell!

"Really? You care about my body size more than I do?"

"Looks like that to me! Because if you cared one bit, you wouldn't dare to even glance at a meal with high calories!"

I laugh. The sound erupts from my belly, spills through my lips, and echoes in the open space.

"Get out, Tristan, or I'll be forced to call the security to throw you out."

He narrows the gap between us and peers at my face, a smirk playing across his lips. "You'll do no such thing, babe."

The nerves of him to think he has some sort of control over me! Hasn't he learned his lessons already? When is he going to realize I can't be tamed?

"You have five minutes to get into that elevator, Tristan, and for your sake, I hope you stay away from me."

He stills for a moment. I gauge disbelief in his gaze, but then he lets out a low chuckle, a poor attempt at masking the emotion I can so easily decipher. Fear.

"Are you breaking up with me on our anniversary? A night we should be celebrating our love while anticipating the part I'll get to peel this dress off your body. What happened at the restaurant was nothing, besides, I gave you the perfect gift to make up for whatever I did."

I cast a withering glance at him. "Don't be silly! I told you I wasn't interested in your damn gift!"

"But it looks good on you. Don't you think so, hmm?"

Tristan leans in, raising his hands slowly to cup my face. His thumb strokes my bottom lip. Instead of the familiar thrill, I usually feel at his touch, my insides knot up with a sense of foreboding. I attempt to distance myself, but his strong grasp keeps me in place and our lips collide in an unexpected embrace.

A fresh wave of anger sweeps through me when he nips at my lips, seeking entrance.

"You son of a bitch!" I seethe! Striking him across the face with all the strength I can muster. "You make me sick!"