Go fuck yourself.
“Of course, Father.” I smile up at him, saying what he needs to hear. “This differs from Trent. I hated him, but I love Charlie. I’m not unhappy about this. At all,” I lie.
The bastard nods as he takes a long puff of his cigar. “That pleases me, Abigail. Perhaps there’s still hope for you.” He flicks the cigar away, digging his nails even farther into my skin in a way I know will leave marks. His eyes narrow to slits as he leans into my face. “But if you’re lying. If you’re playing me. There will be hell to pay.”
“I’m not,” I lie. “I didn’t want to marry Trent, but I’m looking forward to marrying Charlie.” My insides twist painfully as more lies darken my soul.
“And what of Kaiden Anderson?”
This time I don’t have to lie. My lips pull into a snarl, and my hands ball into fists as I unleash the anger bottled up inside me. “I hate that manipulative bastard, and I hope he rots in hell.”
My response pleases him. He pats me on the head. “Good girl, Abigail.”
Patronizing prick.
Charlie chooses that appropriate moment to arrive, pulling up in a top-of-the-line, blacked-out Land Rover. I have no bag, so I skip down the steps and slide into the passenger seat. To keep up appearances, I lean over and kiss him on the mouth. He winds his hand in my hair, drawing me closer and deepening the kiss.
It’s not a chore kissing Charlie, but I don’t want him getting the wrong idea, so I subtly pinch his thigh, and he breaks the kiss before it turns too intense.
“You two lovebirds have a good trip,” the bastard says, sticking his cosmetically altered hideous face in Charlie’s window. “And I want you to check in with me the minute you arrive back in Rydeville, son. Mrs. Banks will pack up Abigail’s things, and I’ll have them delivered to your house.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll take good care of her.”
“Not too good.” The bastard smirks, looking over Charlie’s head at me. “You let your fiancé do whatever he wants to your body. He owns it. Not you.”
“Like I said, Daddy. This is different.” My tone is elevated as I’m losing control of my tenuous emotions.
“We’ll see you Tuesday, sir.” Charlie floors it the instant the bastard steps away, and the brakes squeal as we hightail it down the driveway at speed.
“I want to kill that fucking bastard for the way he speaks to you and about you,” he seethes.
“Get in line,” I reply, glancing out the window. “And death would be too easy for him. I want to make him suffer.”
“You have a plan?” he asks, slowing down the engine as we reach the entrance gates.
“It’s a work in progress.”
The gates open, and Charlie pulls the car out onto the road, and I’m free of that hellhole.
“We need to coordinate,” he adds, casting a quick glance at me.
“Who’s we?”
“Me, Drew, and Xavier.”
I pull my knees up to my chest, wishing I had different clothes. Anything but this fucking uniform. “Hold that thought,” I say, looking into the back seat, eyeing up Charlie’s bag. “Do you have anything I can change into?”
“I’ve a couple of T-shirts and some sweats.”
I climb into the back, rummaging in his duffel bag and removing a Ramones’ tee. “I didn’t know you were into the Ramones?” I say, stripping out of the uniform.
Charlie’s gaze meets mine momentarily through the mirror. “It was a present from Lil.”
“I didn’t know your sister was into punk rock, and isn’t she a little young?”
“She’s fourteen and going through a phase.” He turns right onto the highway. “Or at least I hope it’s a phase.”
I climb back into the front wearing the shirt. It’s long enough to pass as a shirt dress. Charlie’s eyes lower to my thighs for a fleeting second. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I ask, eyeballing him.
