The glass smashes to the ground, shattering into tiny shards as he storms toward me, grabbing my chin and stretching my neck up painfully. “You seem to have forgotten your place, daughter, and it’s time I reminded you.” He fists a hand in my sweater, yanking me to my feet. His eyes roam over me in disgust. “You look like a common peasant.”
“Mr. Hearst.” Charlie stands.
“Be very careful with the words you say next, Charles,” the bastard warns.
I daren’t look at Charlie, so I can’t tell what expression is on his face when he says, “She’s my fiancée. I’ll be the one to discipline her.”
What the actual fuck?I thought he’d try to stop him, but no, he’s going along with it. A red layer coats my eyes, and anger burns the back of my throat, but I say nothing, show nothing, keeping a neutral expression on my face even though I want to murder both men.
Charlie’s statement calms him down, somewhat. “Trouble?” he asks, momentarily distracted by Charlie’s swollen nose.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he coolly replies.
Father shoves me at my fiancé, straightening his shirt and tie, before a familiar sneer creeps across his ugly mouth. Panic bubbles up my throat. “Let’s see if I’ve made the right choice.” He levels Charles with a menacing look.
I work hard to keep my face neutral because I refuse to show any fear in front of him. Instead, I cling to my hatred, using it to bolster my determination to take him down, no matter the cost.
He tore my babies from my body without permission. Inserted these hideous breast implants knowing I didn’t want them. And now he’s blackmailing me into another arranged marriage.
He doesn’t get to keep doing this shit to me.
Hewillpay.
I repeat that mantra over and over in my mind, using it to anesthetize me from what’s about to happen.
“Twenty slaps on her bare ass. Right here. Right now.”
I seethe underneath my skin as Charlie turns me in his arms and demands, “Jeans off now.” His face is a mask of cold indifference, and I can’t tell if it’s an act or not.
Embracing my anger and my hatred, I remove my jeans, carefully setting them aside and standing with my chin up, daring him to do his worst. Charlie sits back down on the couch, patting his lap.
“Panties off,” my father instructs, and I know he gets off on this sick shit.
I hook my thumbs in the top of my panties, ready to remove them, when Charlie grabs my hips, pulling me across his lap, facedown. When I’m stretched out, with my face pressed into the arm of the couch and my ass slightly tilted, he removes my panties, pushing them down my legs to my ankles.
An involuntary cry rips from my mouth as stinging pain lances across my ass with the first slap. I bite down hard on my lip as Charlie wastes no time doling out my punishment, slapping my ass in quick succession. I want to believe he’s doing this fast, to get it over and done with, rather than he’s doing this deliberately, because it hurts more when there’s no time to recover in between, but honestly, the jury is out.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I ignore the pain and the humiliation, focusing on my anger and my rage and cementing my determination to bring him down.
“Nice job,” the bastard says. “I’m partial to that shade of red on my women.”
I swallow my disgust, relieved when I feel Charlie drawing my panties back up my legs.
“No.” Charlie stops for a second at my father’s command. “Let her stand and put them back on herself.”
My lip trembles at his undisguised desire to see my naked pussy, and intense fear overtakes me.
My father has never looked at me in a sexual way or put a hand on me in that regard, but I’ve always known he’s capable of it. I don’t know what goes on in his sex dungeon, but I doubt it’s legal or in any way pleasurable for the women.
“No.” Charlie’s voice is resolute as he defies my father, pulling my panties back up into place. “No one gets to see her pussy but me.” My stomach sours, and I cringe as I brush against the bulge in his pants. Knowing doing that to me turned him on doesn’t sit well with me.
What angle is Charlie playing, and am I the ultimate prize, or is he playing for bigger stakes?
My father chuckles, clearly amused, which is a shock. Any time Drew stands his ground, he’s met with vicious fists.
Charlie grips my hips and places me on my feet. Snatching my jeans, he hands them to me while maintaining eye contact with my father as he rises.
“How do you expect to achieve that after you’re married with your newly elevated status within the order?” the bastard asks.
