Chapter 22

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Matt Bomer as Dylan Merrick 

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When Megan entered the double oak doors of his massive office, she found him still seated behind his ginormous desk. He waved a hand and said without feeling or inflection, "Have a seat." As he indicated one of the two comfortable high back chairs in front of his desk.

So she took a seat and leaned her crutches against the adjacent chair. Her father's eyes lingered on them for a moment and for a second she thought she could see a flash of emotion, but it was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

He turned his electric blue eyes on her the same color as her own and said stoically, "To what do I owe the honor of your visit."

She wanted to scream: I'm your fucking daughter you moron, but instead she said, "I've come to ask for your help. "In a shockingly firmer voice then her feelings attested.

All of a sudden she felt like a frightened little girl again just begging for her daddy's approval, but she squelched those useless feelings down and returned his stare with a hard one of her own.

She was distracted for a moment though by how attractive her father was. His jet black hair shone in the sunlight streaming through the massive window behind him; apparently it had stopped raining on her way up. The sun now bounced off his sun kissed complexion void of lines or any hint of blemishes, his shockingly blue eyes and lean features denoted a man with the vibrancy of youth. He looked like an extremely attractive man in his mid 30's but she knew for a fact he was centuries older. And she thought ruefully he will continue looking the way he does today long after she turns to dirt in the ground. Somehow that thought just made her angrier.

She wanted to throttle him for his . . . his . . . what . . . longevity? Then she knew why. He didn't deserve to still be here when the one who'd truly loved her would possibly be gone.

But she'd suppressed that emotion for the time being she needed him to help Cam.

Her father steepled his fingers coldly, turning his cool gaze on her and said with his crisp British accent, "How may I be of service to you?"

Megan ran her shaky hands over her pant legs and took a moment to respond, she wanted to phrase it perfectly, she wasn't going to take any chances with Cam's life.

"I need your help. Someone I love very much is going to die if you can't help me."

Her father just examined her through his dark lashes.

She shivered under his scrutiny but continued bravely, "He's a selkie who's rejecting his skin. I need you to cure him. I need you to save him." Her voice hitched at the end, she hadn't meant it to, but it had.

"What makes you think I can do anything for your lover?" her father asked in a detached tone.

"You're the Lord of the Sea for Christ sake. Can't you do anything?" she blurted out before she could stop herself, but then it dawned on her: how did he know the selkie was a 'lover'?

She fixed her eyes on her father and inspected every nuance of his being. He wasn't as calm and collected as she thought he was. He was sitting a little too rigidly in his seat. His shoulders were too tense. Suddenly she got the feeling that he knew more than what he was saying.

"How did you know I was referring to my boyfriend? "She asked narrowing her eyes on him.

He seemed to abandon all pretenses then and announced with a frustrated growl, "Do you think there is anything you do that escapes my notice?"

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