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“You need to leave!” my mother screeched.
She turned on my father. “What kind of man are you, bringing these men into this room when your daughter is practically naked?”
“We need you to sign for this deal with—” My father didn’t even get to finish his sentence before she was screeching again.
Crouching down further and trying to hide my body with my arms, I kept my eyes on the floor, not wanting anyone to see me. I prayed I could just disappear into one of the mountains of tulle, that one of these hideous dresses would just come to life and consume me.
I remembered what happened the last time Luc saw a mark on me. I wouldn’t give my mother the satisfaction of knowing that he had found me lacking every time she marred me.
The way she was screaming, I expected the men to retreat. Instead, a pair of polished black loafers stepped on the carpet in front of me.
A moment later, a warm jacket was draped over my shoulders, and I was surrounded by his scent again.
Luc knelt then cupped my chin gently, bringing my gaze up to meet his.
He looked into my eyes, then at my cheek and my hand. His jaw clenched, and he ground his teeth as he stood back up and demanded everyone leave the room.
“This is my home. You can’t just walk in here and—” my mother tried.
“I think you know damn well what will happen if you don’t get the fuck out of this room now,” he seethed, and I heard some shuffling and the door slam.
“They are gone now.” His voice was softer, gentler.
I didn’t trust it.
“Amelia, look at me.
CHAPTER 26
AMELIA
“Amelia, babygirl, please stand up,” he said softly.
I did as he said and stood back on the pedestal.
Parts of my hair hung in front of my face, but the mirrors surrounding me still showed the handprint—bright red and clear as day, there was no way to possibly hide it.
“Tell me what happened.”
He stood in front of me. His strong hand was still on my waist, supporting me, yet I felt exposed and vulnerable.
“Nothing.”
“Amelia. Tell me what just happened in here.” His voice took on a harsh edge.
Somehow, he sounded angrier than he had earlier.
The tears flowed down my face more freely, a lump forming in my throat. I couldn’t answer him. So much worse would happen if I told him what happened in this house. Or if he found out this wasn’t the worst she had done to me.
She rarely left marks. She was always careful about that, but many ways existed to inflict pain without leaving physical marks.
“We were trying on wedding dresses,” I answered with my head down, my voice little more than a whisper.
I was like a broken doll standing on a pedestal, in underwear and a suit jacket that dwarfed me. The sleeves even went well past my fingertips. It made me feel small and weak.
I guessed that was appropriate.
“And why are you crying?”
