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“Yes. But we’ve got this, thank you.” Lottie stands, leans over the table, and kisses her mother’s cheek. Her ass in perfect view again. She kisses her father, and I can’t help but look. She has a great ass. When she pulls back, she leans in close as they walk off.
“Stop staring at my ass.” I can’t help but smile as a few others say goodbye, when it’s just us she turns in her seat to look at me. “You disgust me.” Her hand lifts and she slides her hair from her head. I lean in real close to my perfect fiancée and whisper in her ear. “Was it so disgusting when your lips were wrapped around my cock.” I pull back, and she gasps at my words. I can only laugh as she gets up.
And watch as she attempts to leave.
My bunny, oh how I plan to play with you.
CHAPTER 13
LOTTIE
I wake in a strange bed. My heart starts beating erratically not knowing where I am. Then I remember where and why I am here, so I let out a loud sigh. Climbing out of the bed, I reach for my clothes and slide them back on. I slept naked, as I have no clothes here, though I don’t sleep with clothes on anyway, so it was no big deal. I head to the kitchen to find Whiskey standing there, dressed and ready for his day with an earpiece in his ear as he talks incessantly. I stop, waiting for him to turn around to acknowledge I’m here. He spots me but doesn’t say a word. Biting my lip, I contemplate going back to my room, but it’s the weekend, and the weekend is my time. I don’t have any events that, as the daughter to the senator, I must attend and usually I’d go to the beach and spend the day there doing absolutely nothing but reading a good book. It’s the perfect day.
“Do you have plans?” He startles me when he finally speaks, and I look up to him.
“Yes,” I lie.
He senses it’s a lie straight away. “Your things will arrive in twenty minutes. I suggest you wait for them.” Then he walks off. Once he’s gone, I head to the fridge to see what’s available. My usual breakfast is in there. I turn to look for him to ask him how he knew, but he’s long since gone. How on earth does he know what I eat for breakfast? Coconut yogurt, strawberries, and peanut butter. I know it’s weird, but once you try it—heavenly. Taking all three ingredients out, I make my breakfast and check my cell phone. My father has tried calling several times, and if he doesn’t hear from me soon, I’m afraid that outcome probably won’t be great. But I also wonder now if he would do the same old guilt trip he would normally do now Whiskey is in the picture.
“You’re too busy now for your own father?” he answers. Clearly, he’s not impressed by the sound of his voice.
“I was sleeping. I’ve just woken. It was a big night last night.”
“Indeed, it was. I can’t say I wasn’t surprised. But it was a pleasant surprise. You will be marrying well. I’m pleased that you will be taking care of your family.” I should have known my father would make this about the family. Who cares if I’m happy or not, right? He’s fishing for truths and lies, but luckily, I know all his tricks.
“Whiskey and I feel its best.” I say, almost choking on the blatant lies I’m spewing. Am I trying to convince him or myself more?”
“Good. Good. You’ll be marrying well then.”
I cough. If only he knew. But would he really care, considering I am marrying Whiskey? A man who Father can gain traction from being associated with? Yeah, I doubt it very much.
“Yes,” I manage to squeak out.
“We want to pay for the wedding. It’s tradition.” My eyes bulge at that statement. I scoop another spoonful of my breakfast, ignoring him as he continues, “I’m sure you can convince him. Tell him, no budget.”
“Sure.”
“Lottie.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Divorce is not an option, you hear me?” Why is he bringing divorce up? Shit, does he suspect that this is all a ploy? “You stay, no matter what. Marriage is a life commitment.” My spoon freezes. “Lottie,” he says when I don’t answer.
“That’s not up to you, father.”
“So, you’re keeping it as an option?” Dad’s fishing, the asshole.
“No, but that’s out of your hands. I would never stay married to someone I don’t love.”
“So, you aren’t sure if you love him?”
I place the phone down and mute it, then I scream, loudly. I can hear him saying my name when I unmute it.
“I love him.” Shit! That tasted like acid when I spoke it, a caustic taste that burns my mouth.
“Good, as long as you’re sure. Hate for the newspapers to write about how my daughter marries then divorces straight away. They will think you’ve done it just for the money.” There’s no point in me speaking anymore. He’s digging for more information that I don’t want to give him.
“Okay, I’ll be off then. Send the accounts for your wedding straight to your mother. She’ll handle it all.” Then he hangs up with no goodbye. And so, I repeat the process, screaming at the top of my lungs. One day he will hear me. One day he will know how frustrated he makes me. Maybe.
