This is the apartment you were talking about?" Ginny asked. Corsica's friend wandered past my father and over to the view. "I mean, I should have known when I saw the gates. Oh, by the way, your gates are open and there's some kid with major attitude in your garage."
Xavier shot a look at me. "You're still employing that delinquent?"
"Good thing, too, since we need to get to Monterey quick," I snapped.
My father straightened his cuff links. "We'll take the helicopter."
"Are they for real?" Ginny asked Corsica.
I felt the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. Corsica's eyes were wide and kept flashing towards the door. She was trying to flag down her friend's attention so they could make a swift getaway. The thought of her leaving unraveled the last of my sanity.
I couldn't possibly be having feelings for her. It had to just be the strain of my father's presence and the worry over my mother's health. I rolled my shoulders and tried to let it all go.
"So, wow, someone's got the big bucks," Ginny said. She turned away from the view to give my father a friendly smile.
Xavier laughed, completely unused to going unrecognized. "Any friend of Corsica's is welcome."
Corsica let out a strangled cry and swept across the room. She caught Ginny by the arm and dragged her towards the bedroom. "Excuse us, please. We'll be right back," she called over her shoulder.
Right back would not be soon enough, I thought.
It killed me how time was so tangled up with thoughts of my father. No matter how inebriated he had been during my childhood, time had been a hard and fast rule. I had been torn between his near-militant observation of time and my mother's flowing concept of life. I still could not understand how two so vastly different people had ever come together long enough to have a child.
Though, I was starting to understand how attraction had nothing to do with surface similarities. Something deep under our different looks and lives had already tied me to Corsica. Yes, maybe it was the stress of my current situation looking for a safe outlet, but her absence made me antsy.
I scrubbed the back of my neck and willed time to go faster so Corsica would return before my father tried to talk to me again.
"Do you need to pack?" Xavier asked.
"No."
My father followed my glance and frowned. "Why are you lying to her about who you are?"
"Who says I'm lying?" I snapped.
Xavier undid his tailored suit coat and slipped his hands into his pockets. "You obviously don't want her to know we're related, but why haven't you told her the rest?"
I ran both hands through my tangled hair. It took a concentrated effort not to pull my hair out. "Why can't you, of all people, get it? Aren't you sick of people treating you like an ATM or a demigod? Nah, you probably love being surrounded by sycophants all day long."
"I don't run away from it. I learned a long time ago that you can't run from who you are."
"But I can sure as hell get away from who you are."
My father rocked back on the heels of his Italian shoes. "Penn, I need to tell you some things-"
I ground my teeth hard. "You know, you're right. I really should go pack."
Xavier moved like lightning to stop me, and I froze. One hand was suspended between us, blocking an anticipated blow. My father saw the instinctual reflex and turned white as a sheet.
"Penn, please," he begged.
"We're not going to talk." I balled my hand into a fist and forced it down by my side. "We're not going to put anything behind us. I like it between us, it gives me the distance I need."
"Because you're afraid you're going to turn out just like me," Xavier said.
I snorted. "No. Sorry, Dad, but I didn't inherit your addictions. I don't crave money; I don't sacrifice everything to ambition."
"No," Xavier said quietly. "You're just closed off. I know those walls, Penn. You have to trust someone; you have to let someone in."