Page 7 of Bombshell

“It’s worse than I thought, then.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ve never understood how someone so smart could also be so stupid.” His eyes dart towards the ceiling, as if he is talking to the heavens. “It means you find all his red flags charming, daughter mine. How you disappoint me. You’re as beautiful as your mother and as headstrong as me, but the second you find a stray dog, you want to bring it home, fleas and all.”

I flinch, not surprised by how he sees Sterling or me. But a cut still hurts even if you see it coming. “And I’ve never understood how you find so much ugliness in everyone else, but not in yourself, father.”

“He is unsuitable for you. A criminal record? A violent temper? I won’t have it. End of story.”

“You don’t control me!” I scream the words at him and instantly regret it. It only serves as proof that I’m some hysterical, weak creature, which is exactly what he wants me to believe, so I measure out what comes next carefully. “I’m not interested in what you think. Sterling gives me what I need, which is more than you’ve ever given me.”

“You’re confusing your wants with your needs. He treats you like you want—but I take care of your needs. Which he cannot.”

“What do you know about my wants and needs?” My father doesn’t recognize other people’s desires unless it suits him. It always reduces to his money. He equates it with everything. He pays for things, therefore no one can complain about him.

“I know he’s gotten you so twisted that you snuck off to screw him at your brother’s wedding. Did you need him then?”

Heat blooms on my cheeks as I remember our perfect tryst, then a knot forms in my stomach as I realize someone must have seen us. A flicker of realization hits me. “It was Ginny, wasn’t it?”

“She saw you hustling down the stairs, looking like you just stumbled out of a hotel room—and she knew.”

“So, she came to you?” The betrayal stings even after my fight with her.

“Of course not. She told her husband.” My father thinks he has me now, so he leans forward, goading me with a smug grin.

For a second I wonder how he got to Sterling, but I push it aside because I’m not finished telling my father what he needs to be told. “If you have something to say about my choices, then take it up with me, not my boyfriend. Stop screwing around with my life. You’ve taken enough from me.”

“Taken? What have I taken? I’ve given you everything you have.” His voice is cold rage. His chest swells, and for a second I swear he will get up out of his chair and try to strangle me.

“You know exactly what I mean. You killed Mom.” I don’t care if he does strangle me. It’s worth it to see his goggling eyes, his suddenly fish-like mouth. “Should I go and get you a nice brandy, father? You can drink the whole bottle and then have a temper tantrum until you feel better. Or at least make everyone as miserable as you are. At least, we don’t have to worry about you getting behind the wheel anymore.”

“You—you cannot,” he splutters, his lips curling away,“SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!”

I don’t wait around for his rage-filled tirade to end. I walk out the door, slamming it behind me.

I can’t find Sterling anywhere. I check the ball room, the halls upstairs, even ask a few of the staff—but there’s no sign of him. And every time I don’t find him, my panic grows, until I realize I’m both cold and sweaty. My earlier tipsiness has worn off entirely, leaving a vague, throbbing headache in its place. Tears smart my eyes as each second unravels me a little more.

“There you are,” says Poppy, who bobs into the room trailing Cy behind her.

I didn’t know how much I needed to see a friendly face. I take one look at Poppy and burst into tears, burying my head against her shoulder.

She shushes me gently. “Hey, we’re here now. You’re okay.”

Slowly, my body stops shaking, my anger and fear seeping out of me. I have friends here. We’ll all be able to find him. My father hasn’t won.

“We heard your father yelling. Are you okay?”

Half the wedding probably heard that fight.

“My father cornered Sterling, and they argued. Now I can’t find him.”

“Well, there are three of us. We can split up and look for him. We’re here for you, Adair.” Poppy gives me one of her patented, bright smiles.

Before it can cheer me up, Cyrus clears his throat, kicking the carpet with the toe of his shoe. “Actually, I think he left.”

“You’ve seen him?” I ask. Poppy looks as surprised as I do.

“Cyrus Eaton, we’ve been trying to find Adair for ten minutes, and you didn’t mention this? I thought they might be together! If I’d known he’d left...” Poppy’s brow furrows dangerously. It’s so rare to see her angry, Cyrus doesn’t quite know what to say.