“It does my head in, having to change my life over one bloody phone call,” I muttered.

“As I said, tell him no. What’s the problem? You’ve taken a few hits before. What are you scared of? Go on.”

“Then what?” I shot back. “You think he’ll simply accept it? I take a couple of slaps, and that’s it? I don’t think so.”

Michael went quiet for a moment, studying me.

“Honestly,” he said, leaning back in his seat, arms folded across his chest, “this little performance is starting to bore me.”

I looked up at him.

“There you are, sitting in your misery, putting on a show. Hoping someone might feel sorry for you. I’m afraid you’ve found the wrong audience. It was amusing at first. Now it’s just tiresome.”

“Then piss off,” I muttered.

He ignored it.

“I look at you and see how comfortable you are, finding endless excuses to do nothing. Quite a convenient position, really. Sitting in your nice warm golden cage, plenty of money, dreadful father to blame for every bit of it.”

Something in me had begun to burn. My pulse quickened, heat rising under my skin.

“Tell me, Edward,” he went on, leaning forward, “is this how you plan to carry on? Sitting here, waving at all this,” he gestured about the flat, “falling apart, throwing little fits, running off, locking yourself away, and drinking. How long do you think that will last?”

“Shut up and get out,” I said again, more sharply.

“Wow, wow. That is quite the aggression,” Michael said. “But you will need to come up with something better. That does not scare me.”

He settled back again, tapping his palms lightly against the armrests.

“There is something impressive about your father. He’s the one who controls you. The one who threatens you. The one everyone fears. Including you. So how is poor Edward supposed to stand up to such a terrifying man?” He paused, then added, “No wonder that blond left you.”

I clenched my hands into fists, trying to keep the rising anger under control.

“He didn’t leave me,” I said through clenched teeth, forcing the words out. My breathing had grown heavy.  “I left. I chose to leave, and I did it for his sake.”

“Oh, really,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me, a thin smile spreading across his face, as though he took a certain delight in it. “I have no idea what went on between you two, but something tells me you’ve found another way to blame it all on dear old father, tucked your tail between your legs, and ran straight back to your golden cage. Telling yourself it was all for his sake, of course. Not for your own. Not so you can wake up each morning in a very expensive bed. Why get involved with some nasty hybrid? Why bother stepping into that mess?”

He gave a low, satisfied smirk, and I lost it.

I shot to my feet, seized him by his shirt, and dragged him towards me.

“What the fuck do you know?” I snapped. “You’ve no idea what he—”

“What?” Michael cut in, now grinning broadly. “Daddy controls you? Pulls all the strings? Decides everything for you?”

“Shut up!”

“Or wait,” he went on, unbothered, “did he threaten your sweet little friend? That is a perfect excuse to run, isn't it? I get it. I would grab at anything, too, so long as I could keep my dignity and get away from the inconvenience. By the way, if that little hybrid of yours is so fond of humans, perhaps he would be pleased to meet me. Perhaps I would suit him better. Not such a coward.”

A sharp crack rang out as my fist met his face. The impact jolted up my arm. I was breathing hard, chest tight.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He laughed.

Michael dragged a finger beneath his nose, catching the thin line of blood, then looked at it with curiosity.

“You hit hard,” he said. “Heavy hand, my friend. What, you don’t like hearing that? Hit a nerve, did I? Hurt poor little Edward? How dare I?”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting.

“Go on, then. Want to hit me again? Do it.”

“Stop this game. Enough. Just get out,” I said, releasing his shirt and shoving him back into the chair.

“Everyone makes your choices for you,” he went on, as though nothing had happened. “Your dear father, your family, your grand legacy.”

“You want another one?”

“Have you ever decided anything for yourself? Because you wanted it? Do you even know what you want?”

He gave a crooked smile, rubbing at his jaw, tipping his head back.

I was exhausted. And furious.

“What did I want? What the fuck does it matter, Michael?” I barked. “He’ll never let it happen.”

“There you go again. Another excuse.”

“Fuck—”

“Use your head for once. Act like an adult. Like the boss you are. What do you do in your business? Lie, manipulate, outplay. Are you falling apart over one miserable old man? What, because he might give his son a beating? Grow up!”

I lurched towards him again, but stopped myself at the last moment.

Because the bastard was right.

“AGH—” I growled, dragging my hands over my face. “I hate you.”

Michael laughed.

“Oh, come off it. I think you love me. So, what is it going to be? Keep whining like a bloody bitch, or are you finally going to do something?”

I threw a look at that smug, slightly battered face.

“There is ice in the fridge. Put some on it, or it will swell.”

“How thoughtful. I like that. Will you marry me?”

“My heart is already taken,” I said, frowning, despite the ache in my knuckles.

I dropped back onto the sofa and stared at my hands, clenching and unclenching my fingers.

“Outplay him... Manipulate… Lie... Do something I actually want,” I said. “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“There we are. Much better,” said Michael, coming back from the kitchen with an ice pack pressed against his nose.

“And next time you want to punch me, try not to aim for the face. It is my best feature.”

I did not have the strength to reply, so I just laughed.

The anger that had been boiling inside me began to subside. My mind suddenly felt surprisingly clear.

The bastard was right.

It was time to grow up.