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“Shopping with Ava and Ivy. I was just coming back here to ask Dylan to move his car.”
He smirks, disbelief obvious in his brown eyes. Dressed in business casual clothes consisting of a white button-down shirt and dark slacks, my father takes a step my direction before crossing his arms.
“For a wedding dress, I hope. Or have you forgotten you’re an engaged woman now? Shouldn’t you be spending your time with the wedding planner making arrangements for what will be the most important day of your life?”
If anything, I should be meeting with a funeral director for what will be theendof my life, but I don’t say it. The last thing I need is problems with my parents, especially with everything else going on.
Rather than answering him or acknowledging what he said, I say nothing.
Not that he cares for an answer either way.
To my family, I’m nothing more than a daughter to be bartered off for whatever it is they’re after.
Mason calls the shots when it comes to this wedding, and thankfully, he’s dragging his feet as much as possible. We have until we’re thirty from what I’ve been told. Or, at least, Mason does. Which gives me another two years of freedom.
Rather than dropping the subject, my father walks closer to me and locks his eyes to mine.
“I hear you’ve been around the Cross twins again. Or, I guess I should say, I’ve seen it. Especially after that scene you put on at the engagement party. What happens if Mason decides he’s sick of that shit and chooses not to marry a whore?”
Wincing at that, it takes effort not to lose my temper and say what I want. I’ve never heard a kind word from my father in my life. The only time he pretends to like me is when we’re around Mason’s family and might be judged.
What I want to tell him is that Mason is with Ava. What I want to say is that Mason can’t decidenotto marry me because, if he does, then he’ll be cut off from his family’s money.
Not that he needs it anymore.
Not with the success of their law firm.
Why Mason is even still going along with this is a mystery, but the Inferno is still playing the good sons with their families. For what reason, I’m not sure.
Sadly, I can’t say any of those things because I have too much going on at the moment. Fighting with my family would only complicate things.
Disgust rolls through his expression at my silence.
“Keep your damn legs closed, Emily. I won’t tell you again.” He glances over his shoulder to yell, “Move your damn car, Dylan.”
I stay perfectly still as my father marches toward me, rounds me on the left and keeps going.
It’s impossible to move again until I hear a door slam in the distance when he leaves the wing.
Dylan comes stumbling out of his room with keys in hand, his bloodshot eyes narrowing on me. The silence between us is deafening at first. Something has been riding my brother lately, and he’s taking it out on me.
Walking past me with pissed off steps, he reaches the end of the hall before turning back.
“You’re lucky I didn’t tell him both twins were here this week taking turns getting off.”
It’s actually surprising he didn’t.
“The twins and I are only friends.”
He snorts.
“Right. I believe that. You’re still a fucking legend at school for being a slut. Every once in a while, the video pops up again, and I catch shit for it for a few days after.”
My teeth slam together so hard that it vibrates down my jaw.
Ten years and those idiots are still focused on that? It’s pathetic.
They must be doing it to mess with Dylan. There’s no other reason for the current generation at my old prep school to give a damn about what I did.
