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“Later, Laundry.”
He peels out the second I close the door. I don’t waste time and rush into the building. Passing by the coffee shop on campus, I swipe an empty coffee cup with a lid from the trash can. The walk through the building toward the front makes my stomach cramp. Anxiety eats at my insides. I’m about to puke by the time I exit the building.
A shiny black Mercedes pulls into the lot and I make my way toward it. I’m hoping it’s just one of our drivers and not Dad. When the car stops, the back door opens and Dad climbs out. He’s suited like usual and wearing black sunglasses. From afar, you’d never be able to tell he got his ass beat last week.
I toss the empty cup into the trash can near the curb and force a smile. “Hi, Dad.”
“Get in, young lady. You’re not going to sweet talk yourself out of this one.” He holds his phone up and I take note of a tracker app blinking my location. “You must think I’m incredibly stupid.”
Dread claws at my throat. The smile falters on my lips. I try and fail to suck in adequate air as I climb into the stifling car that reeks of his cologne.
Breathe, Landry.
He doesn’t know where you were, just that you were gone. Deny, deny, deny.
Dad gets back in the car, closes the door, and whistles at the driver. I sit beside him, trying like hell not to visibly shake.
The drive back home feels too long.
A prison sentence carried out silently.
Each quiet second that ticks by feels like another lead weight pushed down my throat and settling in my stomach.
“Thank you, Eric,” Dad says to the driver when we arrive at our building. “Let’s go, Landry.”
Dad carries my backpack, holding it out beside him like it contains all the evidence he needs to prove crimes against me. I follow behind him, my eyes downcast.
What’s going to happen?
Maybe he’ll just accuse me of disobeying him and ground me.
That thought is almost laughable. He’s too furious for that. I slipped out of his carefully cast net. Swam around in the dark abyss without him. He’s going to want to know exactly what or whom I was exposed to.
We enter the elevator and the air is stifling. I’m suffocating on the cloying scent of his cologne. Swallowing down the bile, I attempt to get a handle on my breathing so I don’t pass out. The elevator spins which tells me I’m not doing such a good job.
“I’m missing work because of you,” he spits out, words burning me like acid as we step out of the elevator onto our floor. “I can’t let this go unpunished.”
Oh God.
“Dad,” I whisper, trailing behind him. “It’s not what you think. I was working on a project with a girl named Melody—”
He whirls around, pointing a finger just inches from my nose. “Do not fucking lie to me, child.”
Child.
This is bad.
Really bad.
Tears burst free of their dam, streaking down my cheeks. He turns on his heel, ignoring my emotions, and stalks to our door. Once he’s unlocked it, he holds it open for me.
“Go to your room,” he growls. “Now.”
I scurry away from him, hightailing it to my room. He follows me inside and closes the door. His lips purse as he sets my bag down on the bed. I stand awkwardly watching him as he unzips each zipper, pulling out item after item. Books. Laptop. Notebooks. Nothing of interest.
Which means he knows what’s on my computer, just like I feared. It’s a good thing I only used it for school. Once he’s done emptying the bag, he holds out his hand.
“Phone,” he barks. “Sit your ass down.”
I avoid the bed because I don’t want to be near it with him, choosing to sit on my chaise lounge chair instead. He’s quiet as he unlocks my phone and starts his hunt. The panic swelling up inside me is too much.
The room darkens and spins.
I’m going to pass out.
He pockets the phone and crosses his arms over his chest. Slowly, he makes his way over to me, staring down at me. I hate that he’s within hitting distance.
“You’re out of control lately,” he spits out, furious. “I knew college was a bad idea. Too many unknowns.”
His words are a punch to the gut.
“That ends today.” He uncrosses his arms, fisting his hands at his sides. “You know a car is absolutely out of the question now. And your phone? Mine. Apparently, you’re not responsible enough to even leave the penthouse or to have…friends.”
Each word out of his mouth feels like another shackle, trapping me in this nightmare.
My phone buzzes with a text, making all the blood drain from my face. He pauses mid-rant and pulls it out of his pocket. The unreadable expression on his face is more terrifying than an angry one.
