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So many foul words want to scream out of m
e. Words asking what the fuck he thinks he’s doing… words that want to tell him we’re not living in some kind of messed up mafia movie…
But I manage to find the strength to swallow them back down as I sit up and push my hair out of my face.
Giving myself a moment to get my anger and breathing in check, knowing full well if I start screaming at him this fucked up situation could get even worse, I stare at him before I start to say, “That was completely unnecessary—”
Only to cut myself off when the car starts moving.
I glance at the window in numb horror. Is my own father kidnapping me?
“I’m afraid you gave me no choice,” my father says calmly, almost as if he’s bored.
I jerk my attention back to him and meet his eyes.
His mask of composure breaks as his top lip quivers like he’s fighting back a snarl. “You’ve been ignoring me for the past two weeks.”
I’m completely in uncharted waters right now and I have no idea how to navigate my way out of this.
I always knew my father could use his money and power against me at any time, but I never dreamed he’d do it in such a way.
Staring at his cold, handsome face and wondering why he doesn’t look as awful on the outside as he is on the inside, I say as meekly as I can manage, “I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.”
Maybe if I’m meek and contrite, I can cool his anger and convince him I won’t do what I did again. Maybe he’ll let me go, and then I can grab Emmett and Casey and we can run away…
“Yes, I know,” he says, his voice dripping with disgust. Reaching beside him, he grabs a folder off the seat beside him and throws it at me. “Busy in the gutters, fraternizing with the rats.”
The folder hits my chest and papers flutter around me before I manage to catch a couple of out of the air. Gripping the one in my right hand, I pull it up to my face, and feel the bottom fall right out of me.
There, on glossy paper, is a picture of Emmett, Casey, and me outside Emmett’s house. The picture is candid, taken as we’re smiling and walking up to the front door.
I stare at it for a long time, mentally pinpointing the time it was taken, and feel the hairs on the back of neck rise.
Forcing myself to tear my gaze away, I lift up the one in my left hand to see a picture of just Emmett and me. We’re sneaking a kiss behind the gym, away from prying eyes.
“You’ve been spying on me,” I say so softly it’s almost a whisper full of horror and accusation.
“Spying?” my father says then makes a dismissive noise. “Hardly. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for your protection.”
Shaking my head, I slip the left picture over the right then look to the others around me. So many moments of the past two weeks surround me. Moments of happiness, moments mostly involving Emmett and Casey.
They’re scattered on the floor and seat like they’re trash, like they’re nothing…
Anger rising inside me, I finally lift my eyes to my father and ask, straight to the point, “What do you want?”
My father, being the established politician that he is, doesn’t give me the direct answer I desire.
Reaching to his side, he grabs a glass full of what I have no doubt is his favorite gin and takes his time sipping from it before he decides to speak.
“I should disown you,” he states and watches for my reaction.
Unfortunately for him that threat doesn’t pack quite the punch it used to, and I just look back at him calmly.
When I show no signs of distress or worry, his eyes harden and he takes another sip from his glass, drinking deeper this time.
Lowering the glass, a strange glint enters his eyes as he says, “I should, but I won’t. I won’t, not because you don’t deserve it, you certainly deserve it, but because I understand.”
This, unlike the threat, surprises me. And when the surprise makes its appearance on my face, his lips finally give into the snarl he’s been suppressing.
