It struck me then how different Elias was from his father.

Yeah, Elias was a grade-A asshole. I wouldn’t deny that, nor would I pretend the things he had done to me hadn’t happened.

But he didn’t play games like this, didn’t try to manipulate me.

He spoke plainly, said what he meant, and I appreciated that about him.

I didn’t want to risk more of Armen’s attention, but I would have laughed at the thought that Armen had actually made me appreciate something about Elias.

But here was where we found ourselves.

We ate in tense near silence, but the meal gave me time to consider something I hadn’t before. I’d had little interaction with Armen, but as we sat, I tried to imagine Armen in my father’s position.

Couldn’t.

Armen would never allow himself to be on the wrong side of leverage like my father had.

The contrast didn’t end there.

Armen was pragmatic, ruthlessly so, where my father was a dreamer, and a good man.

Easy prey for people like Armen.

“Shall we have dessert?” Armen said.

“That will be fine,” I responded, adding a little smile at the end.

Dessert and after-dinner drinks passed uneventfully, mostly because Armen had decided on coffee instead of whisky, so I hadn’t been forced to contend with the memories that scent evoked. As we stood to leave, Armen again approached me.

This time, I managed not to recoil from him.

“We must do this again,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, sounding confused and noncommittal, not that Armen seemed to care.

“I will be in touch tomorrow,” he said to Elias.

I could tell by his tone the conversation wouldn’t be about me, but still, I found it amusing.

Armen knew very well that I had some idea of the deeper inner workings of the family, but he still chose to try to keep me out of the loop.

Elias kissed his father on both cheeks, and then we left and got back into the SUV.

“I survived,” I said when we were on our way.

“I had no doubt,” he responded.

“Well, that makes it exactly one of us,” I said.

He laughed. “My father can be…”

“Yeah. I know,” I said.

I waited a moment, then decided to ask the question that was on my mind.

“So will this get him off my back?”

“For the moment,” he said.

“But?” I asked, knowing there was a but there.

One he didn’t address because at that very moment, my phone buzzed again.

“Who’s calling you?” he said.

There was something in his tone, a sound that I knew could quickly become anger.

“You know who it was,” I responded.

“What the fuck does he want?” he asked as he looked at my phone screen.

I had lit it up for him, even though he hadn’t asked.