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Shoulders hunched, I slip from the room, only wanting to get the hell out of this house.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Carina
With one last reluctant look over his shoulder, Ford follows his father, leaving me alone with Pamela. A handful of seconds later, the office door closes, shuttering both Hamilton men inside the room.
I glance longingly toward the front entrance of the house. I’d give just about anything to slip through the front door rather than sit here with my mother.
There’s a moment of silence before she says, “Oh my, Carina. He really has it bad for you. Well done.” Her throaty laughter leaves me wincing. “And here you were at lunch, trying to act like you’re so superior.”
My head whips toward her, unable to believe she actually thinks that I could ever be as calculating as she is. That I would use someone for money and security.
“It’s not like that,” I say stiffly.
She tilts her head as her gaze bores into mine. “That’s not judgment. I told you the other day that you should be working this situation to your advantage. I’m glad you’ve finally taken my advice.” She glances toward the office. “It was always obvious that Ford had feelings for you. You were smart to hold him off and make him work for it. He’s had time to sleep around and get it out of his system. Now, he’s ready to settle down.”
My chest constricts until sucking in breath becomes painful. “No.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. “You and I are more similar than you’d like to admit.”
“Please stop,” I whisper. Hearing her say that makes me sick to my stomach.
I’m nothing like Pamela.
Nothing.
Needing a moment to think, I gravitate to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the rolling hills of the back lawn. The skies have darkened even more as the rain picks up, plinking against the glass.
“Make sure you hold onto him, Carina. And all this will be yours one day. I couldn’t be prouder.”
Her words are like the blunt edge of a knife hacking its way through my heart. She’s never said that about any of my dance or academic achievements, but she’s practically dabbing her eyes and gloating that I’ve managed to sink my claws into Crawford Hamilton the second.
Nausea churns in the pit of my belly as the acidic taste of bile rises in my throat. Any minute I’ll vomit all over the cream-colored couch.
Rubber-soled shoes squeak against the hardwood announcing someone’s presence. “Ma’am, dinner is served.”
“Thank you. We’ll be along in a minute or so.”
Just as the older house manager turns to leave, Mom says, “Dolly, would you be an absolute dear and make me another martini? Extra dry this time.”
“Of course.”
“Carina?” Mom prompts when I remain silent. “Would you like a drink to enjoy with dinner? We have so much to celebrate tonight.”
I force a slight smile before shaking my head. I’m dying inside, praying that she didn’t overhear our conversation.
Dolly’s eyes soften just a bit as our gazes cling before she slips from the room as quietly as she appeared.
She’s barely out of earshot when Mom says with a sigh, “After years of waiting on customers hand and foot, it’s nice to experience the other side of things.”
I shoot a quick look toward the kitchen. “Mom…”
“What?” Irritation bleeds into her voice. “I’m just being truthful. What’s wrong with that?”
I drag a hand over my face, unsure what to say to this woman.
“You know, Carina, there are times when I get the distinct impression that you don’t appreciate all the sacrifices I’ve made in order to get us where we are today. Do you think you’d have your own dance studio or all the luxuries you’ve grown accustomed to if it weren’t for me? Your life has been very cushy, and you want for nothing.” Her eyes narrow. “Maybe you should think about that instead of judging me as if you’re so much better. Like me, you weren’t born into this lifestyle.”
