Rhysand's POV
"Ring..." The sudden buzz of my phone against the nightstand startled me into consciousness.
"Who the fuck has the guts to call this early—" I barely finished the sentence as I saw the three letters reflecting on my phone's screen.
"What do you want, Mr. Warner?" I asked gruffly, pulling the sheets off my body.
"Is that a good way to greet your father? And what's with the formalities?" he asked, making me pinch the bridge of my nose.
"You're calling me at 5 AM in the morning, and you want me to address you informally? It's not like you have business for me." I retorted, listening to the sound of his hiss over the phone.
"Well, I got the news that you fired your secretary, and that is not my business, but I've been trying to reach you for the past three days now, which has proven futile."
"It would have been better if it had remained that way," I mumbled incoherently.
"Whatever," he said, clearing his throat before starting again.
"Well, I need you to be available by 9 PM today."
"Why?" I cut in sharply.
"Because I need you to meet Margaret," he said, and I stilled as though I had been struck by lightning.
"I'm not interested," I said, moving to hang up when he spoke up again.
"Yes, you will be, Rhys," he said, asserting his authority.
"You should not use that tone with me..."
"Yes, I will, Rhys. I've been trying to reach you for days now to let you know beforehand, and you think you can reject me? Come on, don't be so selfish," he said persuasively.
"No," I said flatly, leaning back against the headboard.
"You didn't even let me explain why," he countered, his tone growing sharper.
"Don't need to. If it involves you, it's not worth my time."
"Cut the sarcasm, Rhys," he snapped. "This is serious. I want you to meet her."
"No thanks," I said, already moving to hang up.
"Wait," he said quickly. "It's not just Margaret. Her daughter will be there too. This is about bringing the two families together."
I froze, my thumb hovering over the end call button. "Her daughter?"
"Yes, her daughter. I'd like you to meet them both," he said, softening his tone as if that would change my mind.
"I don't care about your new 'family,'" I replied coldly. "This is your decision, not mine."
"Rhys," he said, exasperated. "This isn't just for me. Margaret and her daughter are important to me. And whether you like it or not, they're going to be part of my life. I want you to meet them."
I stayed silent, weighing my options.
"She's nervous about meeting you, you know," he continued. "Margaret keeps saying she hopes you'll like her. And her daughter, well… she's heard a lot about you."
"Let me guess," I drawled. "None of it is good."
"You'd be surprised," he said. "She's curious; she wants to know what kind of man my son is."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Disappointed, probably."
"Rhys," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "I know we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. But this isn't just about me. It's about giving them a chance. One dinner. That's all I'm asking."
"I don't do 'family bonding,'" I shot back.
"You don't have to bond. Just show up. Be civil," he said. "Margaret will be thrilled, and… well, it'd mean a lot to me."
I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the headboard. The sincerity in his voice was irritating.
"And if I don't show up?"
"Then I'll call you every hour until you do," he replied.
"Blackmail. Nice."
"Call it whatever you want," he said. "But I'm not taking no for an answer. 9 PM, Rhys. Be there."
Before I could respond, another voice came through the line. A woman's.
"Is that him?" she asked.
"Margaret," my father said warmly, and I could swear that was the sweetest tone I'd heard from him in years. "Yes, it's him."
"Hello, Rhysand," she said, her tone light but slightly hesitant. "I've been looking forward to meeting you." Her voice was jolly, and for the first time, I felt something breaking through the cold idea I had about her.
"Likewise," I said dryly.
She let out a soft laugh, but it didn't sound forced. "Your father talks about you a lot, you know. He's very proud of you."
"Is that so?" I said, glancing at the clock.
"Yes," she said. "And… I know this might be awkward for you, meeting us like this. But I'd really like for us to get to know each other."
"I'll think about it," I said, knowing full well I'd already lost the battle.
"Thank you," she said, sounding genuinely relieved.
"And, Rhys," my father added, his tone serious. "You'll make it on time, right?"
I sighed heavily. "Fine, 9 PM. Don't expect miracles."
"But it's because your new wife sounds like she's worth it," I mumbled incoherently to myself.
"That's all I needed to hear," he said, clearly pleased with himself.
"Great," I muttered before hanging up.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Dinner with Margaret and her daughter.
What could possibly go wrong? Apparently, a lot could go wrong.
By 8:30 PM, I was outside with my chauffeur when I saw her—Bridgette—waving down a taxi.
Her face looked weary, as if she was being forced to go wherever she was headed.
"Mr. Rhysand," my driver called, opening the car door for me to get in. As soon as I did, he sped down the highway.
---
I slipped out of the car and adjusted my jacket as the cool night air hit me. The valet opened the door, and I made my way toward the entrance when my eyes caught a familiar figure at the door.
I stopped in my tracks, narrowing my eyes. My God-forsaken calamity.
Of course, she was here. Just my luck.
I groaned inwardly and kept walking before turning back abruptly.
"Are you following me, Hayes?" I snapped, watching her click her tongue angrily at my words.
"Bridgette, Mr. Rhys. My name is Bridgette," she retorted.
"Call me Rhysand, and I might consider calling you by your name," I said, watching her hiss as she walked away from me.
"Look, I don't have time for whatever game you're trying to play," I said. "I'm not interested in arguing with you, and I sure as hell don't want you following me."
"Follow you?" She laughed dryly. "I'd rather feed chickens than be caught trailing after you."
I scoffed, turning back to the door. "Fine. Do whatever you want. Just stay out of my way."
We both entered the restaurant at the same time, and I scoffed at whatever ridiculous game she was trying to play.
"It seems like you're the one who's following me now, Mr. Rhys," she snapped, rolling her eyes as we both pressed the same elevator buttons.
"You wish," I snapped as the elevator moved upward, stopping at the same floor.
"We'll see who's following whom now," I said, turning back to look at her while she walked behind me to the room.
"Get away from me, Hayes. I won't take responsibility if the guards throw you out," I added, but she gave no response and showed her card to the guard instead.
"This must be a mistake. Why are you…"
"Mom?" Bridgette called, sending waves of shock through my body.
"Dad?" I muttered, addressing my father who was smiling at the woman in front of him.
"Wait, what?" we both blurted, shocked at the fucking twist of what was happening.
"He's your father? And..."
"She's your mom?" I yelled, my voice louder than it had ever been.
"What the fuck is this!" we both yelled, our eyes wide at the unbelievable turn of events.
"My mother and your father?!"
"Impossible!" we exclaimed, staring at the horror-stricken couple.