Queen of Steel: Throne of Lies

Chapter 9

As the sleek town car stopped at Steel Conglomerate headquarters, my heart pounded with a mix of trepidation and determination. Allistair had texted earlier to confirm his arrival. This was our chance to demand autonomy over our lives.

Stepping into the opulent lobby, I felt self-conscious amid the extravagance. Polished marble floors, soaring columns, and elaborate steel sculptures surrounded me, showcasing my family's wealth.

Pushing aside my nausea, I headed to the elevators and ascended to the 54th-floor executive suite, straight to my father's office. Marjorie, his assistant, looked surprised at my unscheduled visit. Ignoring her, I squared my shoulders and pushed through the double doors into the dim, wood-paneled office.

Allistair's expression was taut with anger and indignation, his face flushed as he faced our father behind the imposing desk. Despite my nerves, I stood beside Allistair, showing our united front.

My father's expression remained placid. His silver hair was perfectly coiffed, his suit crisp, but his face seemed even more sternly chiseled than usual, like it was carved from granite.

"With all due respect, Mr. Steelman," Allistair began, each word clipped with barely-restrained emotion, "I must insist you leave my personal feelings regarding Tahlia out of this matter."

"Tahlia, did I not make myself abundantly clear that you need not concern yourself with the tedious details of finalizing your engagement to Allistair?" My father asked in that infuriatingly paternal tone of dry arrogance, not even looking up from the stack of documents on his desk blotter.

A rush of indignant anger flared hot inside me. Lifting my chin defiantly, I stated with resolute calm, "That's exactly why we're here, Dad. Allistair and I have discussed this at length. We have made our decision, and we stand by it. We will not be coerced into marriage."

A heavy, weighted silence seemed to descend over the room like an anvil at my insubordination. The air became charged with defiance until it was practically crackling with tension. My heart hammered against my ribs as I met my father's diamond-cutting glare head-on, inwardly refusing to be the first to surrender our heated battle of wills.

Gradually, I watched the iron mask of inscrutability my father always wore begin to slip, revealing the first ominous hints of the rage simmering just beneath his austere surface. His pale lips pressed into a flat, bloodless line, and a dangerous glint began flickering in his flinty eyes.

"Very well," he conceded at last, his tone charged with resentment. "I do not agree with your decision, and I'm certain Bill Lockwood's response will be the same."

Leaning forward assertively, my fists clenched at my sides, I locked eyes with him, matching his intensity. "We're not seeking your approval."

My father's expression darkened even further at this unabashed rebuke, the tendons in his neck cording dangerously as he visibly fought to control the torrent of virulent outrage roiling within him. His eyes bored into me with blatant disdain, flickering briefly to Allistair with scathing disappointment as his voice took on glacial depths of contempt.

"I'm absolutely puzzled at your shameless behavior," he spat venomously. "You have no problem sleeping around with him, yet at the mere suggestion of real commitment, you run away?"

The cruel words struck me like a physical blow, clearly meant to wound and drive an emotional wedge between Allistair and me. I could feel the heat of humiliated fury coloring my cheeks even as my hands curled into white-knuckled fists at my sides.

"And you, Lockwood," he continued with a sneer of disgust. "What is it, son? You tried the milk for free and decided you didn't want to buy the whole cow?"