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“I noticed you keep forgetting to charge this one.” His low voice forces the smile off my face quickly.
“Oh,” I stammer. “I just...I just forget.”
I just forget to charge the tracker so I can have some time away from you and your insane obsession.
“It’s unacceptable behavior, Alexandra. And extremely disappointing.” He doesn’t need to raise his voice to make me feel like a scolded child. That’s the kind of power he has over me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as my gaze falls to my feet.
“College is a whole new life experience. Anything could happen to you.”
Something already happened to me.
He can read my answer in my eyes, despite my best efforts to hide it.
“We have to be twice as careful.”
“Yes, Dad,” I agree meekly.
He twists in his chair and grabs something on his desk. “That’s why I got you this new one.” He shows me the gold bracelet in his hand. I recognize the kind right away. It’s the “Love Collection” by one of my favorite jewelers. This one is paved with diamonds on the sturdy cuff. He’s got a small jewelry-type screwdriver on the desk and takes hold of it as well.
“See, I need to unlock it with this,” he tells me condescendingly. He unlocks it and grips my wrist again. “It’s the only tool that can be used.” He closes the cuff around it, and I startle at how tight it is. A little more, and it would cut the blood flow.
“It’s a bit small.” My gaze goes to his, and hard eyes stare back at me.
“It’s perfect. I know your size. That way you can’t slide it off.” He locks it with the screwdriver, and the reality falls onto me.
I can’t unlock it or take it off. And I doubt he’s going to give me that screwdriver.
“Dad,” I murmur shyly. “This isn’t necessary. We’ve learned from experience that it doesn’t matter if you know where I am at all times. Something can still happen.”
He ignores my pleas and keeps talking. “This one has a long-lasting battery. Months. And when it’s almost out, I get a notification on my phone. The tracker is much smaller, so you don’t need a locket or anything. It’s more discreet.”
“Dad, please. This is too much.”
His hand slams on his desk, making me jump back. “For God’s sake, Alexandra. I don’t know many eighteen-year-olds who would complain so much when their father gifts them a forty-thousand-dollar bracelet.” His voice is even, but the gesture is enough.
“I’m sorry,” I finally comply.
“That’s what I like to hear. You’ve been spoiled rotten your entire life. A bit of gratitude would do you well. This is the condition. You always keep this bracelet on, and you won’t have to take Julian with you.”
“I understand.” My lips break into a tight smile. “Thank you.”
“Do you have time for one game before you leave?”
I should be getting to my friends, but the truth is, our games are the only time I enjoy with my dad. So I nod. “Just one.”
My dad has always been protective of me. There is no other way to put it. Over me, my brain, my body. It’s not so much that he’s worried aboutmebut what I represent. Him.
If I fail classes, it’s a reflection on him. If I sleep around, it’s because he didn’t raise me right. If I’m not pretty, polite, lady-like, intelligent. This is all Senator Delacroix’s legacy. I must never mess it up. I must never disappoint.
I’m used to it, and growing up the way I did, it never bothered me.
But then came the tracker. I fought tooth and nail against it. Not only because it’s completely insane but because he wanted to put it on my grandmother’s locket. I’d had this necklace since I was a baby, wore it all the time. He had it torn apart and put back together just so he could follow me everywhere. My mom just went with it like she does with everything. She’s not a leader or a fighter. She likes being taken care of. She likes someone to take charge and for her to sit back and relax. She’s never had to work a day in her life, never had to fight for anything. Everything was always handed to her on a silver platter, and she couldn’t care less that Dad married her for her name and money.
Because of that stupid tracker, my grandma’s necklace was ripped off of me, broken, and destroyed in a fire. But just like everything else, I got used to it. I got used to how protective he is, to the pressure, to the extra work I constantly have to do, and to having to wear a mask around everyone so I can pass as the perfect daughter.
Our games have always been the only way for me to pretend he cares about me, not just how I make him look. They’re games. Games are fun.
