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With a long sigh, I stepped inside the house. It felt cold and impersonal compared to the warmth and design of the Kavanaughs’ penthouse. The furniture was large and garish. It was also as uncomfortable as hell. There was no family media room, and dinners were rarely taken together unless father had his business associates over.
“You little cunt.”
Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
A painful sting radiated across my cheek, catching me off guard. I stumbled, tripping over my suitcase and landing painfully on my ass. Fuck, that hurt.
“Nice to see you too, Sarah,” I sneered, holding my hand to my cheek to quell the burn.
“Where the hell have you been?” she snarled. “You think you can just walk out on the deal your father made with the Knights?”
“Well,” I picked myself up from the floor, “I’d say that, yes, I could. I’m not marrying someone who has been actively cheating on me.”
Sarah crossed her arms against her chest and rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up, Bailey,” she chastised. “Men cheat. It’s who they are. You’ve always known this marriage isn’t about love,” she spat the last word out with disgust. “It’s about forming an alliance. It’s about power.”
The edges of my mouth twitched in disdain. “If you think I’m going to marry someone who makes me as miserable as my father makes you, think again,” I spat at her. “It’s over. If you want this alliance so bad, give him Dalia instead.”
Sarah stepped toward me with her arm raised as if to hit me again. She stopped at the last moment, her eyes hardening. “Ungrateful little bitch,” she sneered. “I told him to get rid of you when we had the chance. Told him you were useless, even as a pawn.”
Get rid of me?
Her jaw set as she lifted her chin. “You will marry Drew, Bailey.” She took a long, resolved breath. “Or I’ll see to it that you end up just like your mother. Slit throat and all.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the entry hall.
There wasn’t much time to contemplate what she had said before Carson, the family butler, cleared his throat from the entryway to the long hall that led toward my father’s office. I turned my head to look at him, taking in his tailored coattails and polished shoes. He stood firmly erect, shoulders pushed back, chest out. The perfect slave in a dynasty of masters wrapped up in an air of civility.
He’d served my father’s household since he was seventeen, but in the end, he was nothing more than a cog in the machine. Just like me.
“Your father is requesting you, miss,” he informed me, his crisp voice tainted somewhat painfully. Out of everyone in the household, he had been the one to take care of me. My father didn’t bother with nannies for me like he had Dalia. Instead, he’d given me away to the household staff. I’d been raised by Mary, the cook, Celia, the maid, and Carson, the butler. It was where I’d gotten my drive to work hard for what I wanted.
Not that anyone would have handed it to me anyway.
I gave him a tight nod and smile as I stepped past him. The man laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, stalling my feet. I looked up at him, the lump of unease growing thick in my throat.
“That boy doesn’t deserve you.”
A choked chuckle left me at his words. He didn’t say anything more. Simply removed his hand and led me toward the one person I feared most.
My own father.
* * *
“Are you going to tell me where you’ve been?” I’d barely stepped through the door before the barrage of questions began. “Do you not understand the repercussions of disappearing? Are you honestly that stupid?”
“Hello to you too, father.” I sank into the seat across from his desk. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking. No, I’m not going to tell you where I’ve been.”
My father growled, his lips twisting into a sneer. Looking at him now, I wondered how much of my mother I resembled, rather than him. Sure, we shared similar qualities, but other than the slope of our nose and the color of our hair, we barely looked anything alike. I’d never seen a picture of my mother. I barely remembered what she looked like, but I didn’t recall her having dark hair or blue eyes. My father’s were brown. His skin had a darker coloring to it. A stark difference to my pale complexion.
Even our personalities differed.
I wondered if this was why he treated me so differently from Dalia. Not just the fact that I was the product of an affair, his greatest shame, but because he saw nothing of himself in me. All he would see was my mother, the woman he held responsible for nearly ruining his career.
“Don’t talk back to me, Bailey,” he snarled, his fists clenched tightly on his desk. “You need to apologize to Drew about your behavior immediately.”
I gave an unladylike snort.
“That’s not happening,” I told him firmly. “How about he apologizes to me for screwing Brittany behind my back for the last three years? But even then, you still won’t get an apology out of me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“If you satisfied him like a woman is supposed to,” my father leaned forward, his dark eyes holding mine, “he wouldn’t have to fuck other women.” There was a coldness there that I had never seen before. A dark, dangerous glint. My mind flashed back to the images of him mounting underage girls in a dirty cell. His face held the same malevolent look while the girl beneath him cried. I’d wanted to tell myself that those photos were faked. Manipulated. Now, however, as I looked at the man who’d raised me, I was having a hard time living in denial.
