Instead, she became our living nightmare. Scars mark my upper legs and torso, areas she deemed ‘shouldn’t be shown unless I’m a whore,’ every one of them a reminder of howbadI was growing up.
She pushed us to be what she called our best selves under the guise that we were lazy and spoiled. She often made me play my instruments until my fingers bled and once made Jordan swim so many laps he nearly drowned.
It didn’t take her long to figure out our best motivators were each other.
When I was eleven, I came in second place at a piano recital; my competition was all much older than me, but she didn’t care; all that mattered was that I lost.
She whipped Jordan so bad with a cord from the hairdryer in the room we were staying in that they called the cops after we left because of the blood in the carpet. She told them he’d gotten a bloody nose, and they believed her. He walked with a limp for weeks after that.
In the end, she got what she wanted; we were the best, though I’ll never understand how she was willing to pay such a cost.
“Are you listening? A few weeks away from home, and suddenly years of manners have gone out the window? I knew sending you here was a mistake!” She fumes, tossing her hands up in exasperation, and it takes everything in me not to flinch away.
“Stand up straight and fix your hair! We have a meeting with the dean before you perform. Go!” She shoves me, and I stumble back before quickly catching myself.
I know better than to let myself hit the ground around her, not unless I want to get the shit kicked out of me.
I pull myself up so that I’m walking tall and proud, avoiding anyone else’s gaze. I lead her down the hall, silently praying I don’t take a wrong turn. Thankfully, visiting Dimitri, I mean Mr. Adler, seems to have paid off.
We walk into the office, and his secretary nearly jumps to her feet, running around her desk.
“Ms. Inara, I wasn’t expecting you yet!” Thankfully, my back is to my aunt because I swear my eye twitches hearing her be called that. It makes it sound like she’s my mother; she loves it.
Her brother, my father, was important, and she was nothing.
“Mr. Ford will see you in just a moment. If you could have a seat—” The door behind her opens, saving us all from my aunt’s fury when the dean stands in the door, a smile on his face that gives me the creeps.
Something about him seems off, and I can’t put my finger on what exactly it is, but something about the way he is with Nolan makes me think he and my aunt will get along swimmingly.
“Florida, it’s been too long.” The dean smiles, and my auntblushesbefore she all but shoves me aside to offer him her hand. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand without looking away from her gaze, and I swear I taste my dinner from last night.
God, I’d rather gouge out my eyes than watch them flirt.
“Please come in.” He waves us in, standing aside so that my aunt can go in first before he turns his gaze to me. I bite back the urge to cower as his eyes rake over me in the most predatory way.
I should run the other way; nothing good will come from going into that room, but I don’t have another choice. Something we both seem to be all too aware of.
“A pleasure as always, Wren.” He moves into the room with me, pulling the door closed, and I feel him at my back, far too close.
Breathe; don’t let him see the effect he has on you.
I move to sit in the chair beside my aunt, quickly looking away when she gives me a nasty side-eye, as if I enjoy the creepy attention from a man old enough to be my father.
“Are you here to finally accept my marriage proposal?” I can’t stop the gasp that leaves my mouth at the words, and both sets of eyes turn toward me. Auntie’s full of disdain, and the dean with that look that I still can’t place but really don’t like.
Auntie’s lip curls, and I know she wants to snap at me, but she keeps it to herself. I’m sure she won’t soon forget that, though; I’ll pay for it later…
“No, I’m sure you’ve seen by now that my niece isnotwife material. Not even for fish.”
It’s the dean's turn to be upset as he bares his teeth at her like a rabid animal. “Then why have you decided to pay me a visit?”
Instead of answering, she simply reaches into her bag and pulls out a… scroll. What year is it?
The dean doesn't seem surprised; instead, he looks ecstatic.
What is happening?
“Have a good day,” Auntie says before she stands and heads out without so much as glancing back or at me.
