Trust Me | MxM | BDSM

47. Unfurling

During dinner, Angel bombarded me with questions as if I was some long-lost son that no one knew anything about. Given my father's flexibility when it comes to the truth and the fact that he's acting as if we haven't seen each other in ages, I can imagine that's pretty much the story he's fed her; I've been working undercover for so long, he doesn't know what I'm up to anymore.

Interesting enough, Angel had actually asked whether I had a girlfriend, which caused me to cast my father a questioning look that he didn't react to, of course. Paul didn't seem to have a clue, either. Apparently, I'm a really chaste inside man as far as the story goes. I had smiled politely and told her that I currently wasn't interested in having a girlfriend, and she'd been satisfied.

Another remarkable thing was that no one had shown any interest in what I've been doing at Gav's place all this time. Paul had stared at me intensely every now and then but never spoken about what had been on his mind. Eventually, my father had excused us to have a private chat with me, releasing me from this exhausting dinner.

"I see you're still a charmer," he says when he's closed the door behind us, then chuckles. He waves the topic off while he's walking over to a small sitting area in front of a hearth. His hand is already lingering on the backrest of the large sofa when he decides he'd rather take out the liquor first. I feel tired just watching him, and I dread talking to him privately. This can only go wrong.

"Rum?" he asks with a wry smile, already taking out the bottle. He fills two glasses while I remain quiet, continuously talking throughout his task, "This one's a gift from one of my business partners. Almost fifty years old, from the British Royal Navy."

I take the glass when he offers it to me, smelling the expensive liquor. I've never developed much of a taste for this kind of alcohol, maybe because I've never lived the lifestyle. My father smiles at me while I just stare at him across the rim of the glass. His brow furrows slightly, and I down the rum. When I walk over to the couch and slump down, I'm painfully aware of his gaze resting on me. It's choking me, crushing down my lungs.

I put the glass down with a sigh. "I don't know what expensive rum tastes like."

"Really?" He's sounding genuinely surprised. I look up from my fingers when he sits down opposite me, holding his glass close to his lips. "I'd think Gavrilo is only feeding the best to his precious submissive."

I snort, rolling my eyes at him before I lean back. "Can't you even throw a proper insult?"

"I think you understand me well enough," he says nonchalantly. "But fine. You're acting like a spoiled brat that's forgotten what he owes to this family."

"Oh, come on!" I allow myself to chuckle because he's being absolutely ridiculous. There's no way he seriously believes that I owe him anything. "You've been lying to me all my life."

He sighs and shakes his head at me, showing me the typical disappointment. I've been working my ass off to make him proud, yet he never really cared - and I doubt that's ever going to change. "Son, I did what I had to do for this family, same thing as you did."

"Sure," I scoff. "Just that I never knew what this family meant exactly."

"That's why you're acting like a spoiled brat," he repeats firmly, his brow furrowing slightly in anger. My jaw tenses and I press my lips together, afraid of his wraith but unwilling to back down. For the first time this evening, all I see is the man who ruined me. "You wouldn't exist withou-"

"Well, thank you for fucking my mother," I snap, fucking mad that he'd actually argue like that.

His fingers tense around his glass. "Don't raise your voice when you speak to me, Matthew."

"It's Robin," I stress, though I have no idea what made me correct him. I don't want anyone to call me by that name, not even Gavrilo if I'm being honest, yet it's killing me to hear him deny who I really am.

He just laughs, laughs so hard that he almost spills some of his rum, laughs while shaking his head at me as if this was some third-rate joke that's only funny because it's so bad. When he's calmed down, I'm almost ready to explode. I don't, though, and I won't. Despite what's happened, he's still my father - and also a really scary guy.

"You're not Robin, Matt. Robin was weak, and that's not who you are. Robin was a victim. Robin was a lonely child that no one ever wanted except for his sick uncle who fucked him, and they both died together when I took you in. You're my son now, and my son is not a helpless rape victim."

"Well, sorry to disappoint, then," I choke out, barely able to get the words past the lump in my throat while my eyes sting. The pain is suffocating. While Gavrilo Kemp, a man who's only known me for a minuscule part of both our lives, is able to love me for who I am, my own father is absolutely denying it. Not surprising, but it makes me so fucking angry.

"God, Matt. When you took that gun away from Paul, the way you played him, I really had hopes for you, you know? But whatever lie you're living right now, Gavrilo made sure to brainwash you properly."

"It's not a lie," I shoot back immediately, though his words make my heart race in panic, inciting a spark of doubt that's been there a long time. After all, this happiness that Gav's been giving me is too good to be true. There's always a catch, isn't there?

My father cocks his head to the side and takes another sip of the dark liquor. Slowly, he puts the glass down on the table without taking his eyes off me. "Matt, I don't know what that man's been telling you, but he's not your friend, and I'm pretty sure he has been lying to you."

He smirks. "Comes with the business, you know?"

"No, I don't. Just because you can't tell the fucking truth doesn't mean he can't."

He's trying to mess with my head, and it's working. While I want to run back home and into Gav's arms, I'm suddenly afraid of it. Chances are that my father has a point. Apparently, he's known Gav far longer than I, so he would know, wouldn't he? I take a deep breath, refusing to panic more than I already am - just that it's not working as good as it used to.

"Whatever you want to think. I'm not the enemy here, Gavrilo Kemp is."

I shake my head and get up from the couch. "I'm not playing your games anymore. If you want to be father and son, fine with me, but I've had enough of this bullshit."

He barks out a laugh, then gets to his feet as well. "Now who wants to play? This isn't a game, Son, it's harsh reality. You'll understand someday."

"I'm sure I will," I murmur.

"Well, if you doubt it, maybe ask your master what happened to your mother."