Who We Are For The Cameras (Wanda X FemReader)

Chapter 22 : Words Better Left Unsaid

Y/n's POV

Walking into my house, I throw my duffle bag that I took with me when Wanda and I went to the cabin last night onto the couch. Buddy wasn't in his dog bed like he normally would be which meant someone let him out. I figured it would've been Connor but am surprised to see someone else sitting at the kitchen counter as I walk in, making a beeline for the fridge to grab myself something to drink.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him, not making eye contact as I gulp down a bottle of water. The heat of California was starting to get to me, and unfortunately I hadn't thought to grab something to drink before Wanda and I left the cabin this morning.

"Where were you?" Tony asks, standing up from the barstool and rounding the island counter, a flurry of interest in his voice.

I furrow my brows at his movements, them being suspiciously foreign to him, as if he was just trying on a different personality, a fatherly one at that. "Just out for the night." I speak slowly, still assessing his movements.

His hands wave horizontally in a mild gesture, a confusing facial expression spreading across his features. "You didn't tell me you were going out."

Again, my eyebrows connect in uncertainty of this sudden interest in my personal life. "I didn't think I had to run everything by you." My words coming out more bitterly than I had intended.

The only thing keeping his interest in my life these days seemed to be my career, that's all we talked about; what scenes I had the next day, what expectations he had for me out in public, when I needed to go to events or take interviews. Feels like in the few years since I've moved out here we've become less and less like father and daughter than I could've ever imagined, and he wasn't even around when I grew up.

His head juts forward as if he had some clue as to my defensiveness. "Were you with someone?"

Huffing out, I roll my eyes, making my way out of the kitchen and down the hallway towards my bedroom, "So what if I was?"

Tony steps forward, following me, "So what? If you're seeing someone, I need to know. They need to be vetted." His words make it seem as if it should be obvious that I'd know that.

Stopping in my tracks, I turn around bewildered at his turn of phrase. "Vetted? I'm not running for president."

"No, you're an actor, which relies more on public opinion for your career to keep going than a politician's." He speaks with certainty, annoyance even, at my lack of telling him the intimate details of my personal life.

My eyes widen, "Do you hear yourself? You sound insane." I turn back around, ready to shrug him off, needing a nap.

But, unfortunately, Tony can't leave anything be, so he further's himself in the worst way imaginable. "Was it Yelena? Because if it's Yelena then this might work in our favor."

Whipping my head around, I clench my jaw, my words coming out more gritted than intended, "You mean the studio's favor, not ours."

His hands wave mildly, as if that was an afterthought. "Sure, it would be good publicity for the studio, but also the two of you, I mean you guys look great together on screen and I know I suggested getting close to her just to stir up some buzz for the film, but if it's real, then we can use it."

Shaking my head in frustration, I abandon my plan for a nap, knowing I wouldn't be able to rest properly now that he's made yet another conversation about the studio, about my career. It just never seems to end with him. I huff, walking past him and back into the living room, grabbing a blanket from the couch, folding it up to busy my hands.