Slater listened to his daughter's tirade against Vivian and remembered that the redhead mentioned something about meeting Delia before. He'd had his worries then, and they were confirmed right now in her obvious dislike for the woman. That she'd spotted her in his bed was not good - he'd have preferred to alert Delia of Viv's presence before they stumbled across each other but it seemed to be against him.
However, that didn't stop him getting angry. Once she was finished his eyes had darkened to twice their original colour and he had to monitor his breathing. "You done?" he asked, growling the words. As he set Delia with a steely gaze he leant forwards in his chair, hands splayed on the desk.
"What gives you the right to lecture me on my personal business?" he said quietly, but the control in his voice was surprising against his temper. "What makes you think you can come in here and tell me what is right and what is wrong for me to do? If Vivian - and that is her name, not 'she', not 'whore' - if Vivian wants to stay in my bed then she can. If Vivian wants to live with me then she can. None of this - NONE of this - concerns you. You were away. You were going your seperate path. You were going to get engaged in a done deal, or so you lead me to believe, so it's your own damn fault if you thought things'd stay the same only to be disappointed when life moved on without ya. Vivian is not a whore any more. Vivian is with me. I trust her, she's on our side, and if that's good enough for me then it bloody well should be for you!"