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She’d never been rejected.
But it was her pride, not feelings, which had been wounded.
Because you love another man and are trying to pretend that I am him.
I flashed her a sardonic smile, smacked her butt, and gave her a little push out my door. “You said I taste like a villain, but you taste like the victim. Now, save whatever’s left of your self-worth and leave.”
I slammed the door in her face.
Turned around.
Grabbed the glass of water with the cigarette butt swimming in it.
And threw it out the window.
Chapter
Seven
FRANCESCA
My parents were not going to fight for my freedom.
The realization should have struck me sooner, but I clung to that hope like the edge of a cliff. Helplessly, foolishly, humiliatingly.
I called my mother the morning after Wolfe threw me out of his room, telling her about the text messages I’d received from Angelo and about last night’s events.
A blush hit my face and neck in uneven patches. Terrible shame gnawed at my gut for acting so carelessly last night.
True, we were engaged to be married, but we weren’t a couple.
Not really.
Technically, it was just a kiss.
But I was there, and there was much more to it.
More touching. More grinding. More devouring.
More feelings I couldn’t pinpoint—far away from love, yet shockingly close to affection.
When my mother heard about Angelo’s texts, she berated me for contemplating answering them.
“You’re an engaged woman, Francesca. Please start acting like one.”
When my face was so hot with shame I was about to explode, she connected my father to the other line.
Together, they informed me, rather tactfully, that Angelo was to attend an upcoming wedding with Emily as his plus one, with my father adding that they’d made a beautiful couple at the Bishop’s wedding.
It was in that moment of clarity when I realized that not only was my father not going to claim me, but that perhaps I didn’t want to be claimed by him.
The only difference between the monster who currently housed me and the one I’d been born to was that the former made no empty promises or brought me to believe he cared.
They say the devil you know is better than the one that you don’t, but I didn’t feel as though I truly knew my father anymore. His affection apparently depended on the circumstances, and I was to meet each one of his expectations.
Last night’s humiliation, paired with the fact that my mother changed her tune overnight and my father was eager for me to please Wolfe, made me want to rebel.
“I’m sure they look lovely together, Papa. I’m also glad I’ll see Angelo around and hear all about his relationship with Emily directly from him.”
