Vincent’s eyes turn stony as he shuts the door. “I wasn’t expecting my daughter home for another few hours.”
“Sorry, sir.” I drop my gaze, playing the intimidated suitor. “I had a headache so brought her home.”
“Mm-hm.”
His gaze crawls over me and I straighten, meeting his eye but keeping my lips buttoned.
“My daughter’s happiness is very important to me.”
I wait for more, but he just stands, staring impassively. “I believe I can make—”
“She’s been hurt by boys your age before. I won’t tolerate it again.” He moves closer, his broad shoulders and deep glower making him appear taller. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Upset her, and you’ll answer to me.”
His cold stare holds my gaze, but all I feel is a beat of impatience. This posturing bullshit is keeping me from the girl I adore. “I have no intention of upsetting your daughter.”
“Good.”
I hear the snick of a blade a second before cold metal presses against my throat. A pinprick of pain, and warm blood trickles down the side of my neck. What the actual fuck?
“Because I don’t care how rich your father is or who he knows, if you hurt my little girl, there’ll be consequences. Understood?”
I nod. The guy’s fucking insane, but that’s a position I can almost respect. “You have nothing to worry about.”
The metal presses against my flesh for a few moments more, then it withdraws, and he steps back, appearing pleased.
“Good. Then I’ll discuss your holiday proposal with my wife over the weekend. Her father was an avid sailor, so I’m sure she’ll be keen.”
A second later, he’s inside, the front door banging closed behind him.
I feel eyes on me all the way back to my car.
There’s only one sensible option. Go straight home. Play ball for the next few months, wait until my dad’s ambition is either realised or thwarted, or hope Chelsea’s interest in me wanes.
I wipe the blood away with a tissue, checking in the rearview mirror that it didn’t stain my collar.
The small jolt of adrenaline has already subsided. Barely a blip.
I pull into the road and wait impatiently at the next set of lights. Right will take me home.
Ophelia awakens memories I’d rather keep buried, forces me to confront parts of myself I’ve carefully constructed walls around. She’s everything I should avoid, especially with my neck quite literally on the line.
But she’s the only person who makes me feel less hollow.
My indicator signals a left turn.
I’ll take my chances. Make the most of the short time we have left together and endure my father’s fury tomorrow.
The rest of the night belongs to Ophelia, and since my risk is growing, it’s time I deconstructed the dynamic where I pretend I’m forcing her, and she pretends she doesn’t want me.
I’m done with fakery.
She’s the only person in my carefully constructed life who feels real, and it’s about time we tore away the last pretence.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
