An icy cold chill sweeps over my body. “I don’t know what you’re implying.” Forcing my mounting terror aside, I look him dead in the eye. At least he’s looking at my face now.
“Do not play this game because it will only make things worse for him.”
Fear has my heart in a vise grip, and I can barely breathe.
“I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me,” he continues.
“I haven’t disobeyed you,” I blurt, acting confused. “Charlie told me you want me to accept this lifestyle, and he told me to adapt so you’d see I’m embracing it,” I lie. “Why else do you think I planned all this?” My brows knit together. “I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong.”
He stares at me so long I wonder if he’s lost the ability to speak.
“Please, Father. Tell me what I’ve done wrong, and I’ll fix it.” I purposely glance around. “The party is a huge success. I don’t understand.” I’m praying my acting skills are holding up because he’s been stewing all night, and this won’t end well for me if I can’t convince him this is me trying to toe the line. “I’m behaving at school. I’m looking after Charlie’s mom and sister, and I’m being a good wife. What else do you want me to do?”
His hand moves around my waist, along my hip, and down to the top of my thigh. My breath stutters in my throat, and acid churns in my stomach.
“I’ve always believed Drew was my only option. That you were weak, just like your mother,” he spits out, and I want to snatch my knife and bury it deep in his cold heart.
I seriously contemplate it.
I’m close enough I could do it.
But there are too many witnesses, and I know he has cameras in some parts of this room, so it’s too fucking risky.
I’m not going to prison for him.
And I wanthimto rot in a jail cell. Death is too easy.
That thought helps calm me down.
His hand moves lower, and he tugs up my skirt, sliding his hand under the slit and onto my bare flesh. My stomach dips to my toes, and nausea travels up my throat.
“But I think I made a grave mistake.” His hand inches higher, and I drop my arm, grabbing hold of his wrist and digging my nails in. It’s a risky move. One that will ensure I’m punished. But I’m fucked if he’s going to move his hand any higher.
He’s not touching me there.
And I can’t have him finding my weapons.
“You have more balls than your brother, and I see a lot of myself in you,” he continues, leering at me.
I want to scream that I’m nothing like him, but I’ve still got a role to play.
And where the fuck is Charlie? Because this is longer than one dance.
He pushes against my bare thigh, and I hold onto his wrist with a firmer grip, ready to inflict pain with my talons if I need to. In my periphery, I see Chad preparing to make a move, and I glare at him, warning him to stay back. I do not want him mixed up in this. So far, he’s a friend from school. The offspring of a well-respected inner circle member and that’s it. I don’t want him on Father’s radar, so he needs to protect me from the shadows.
“Iama lot like you, Father,” I say, and I’m amazed how calm my voice sounds when I’m fucking trembling inside. “Meaning I take no prisoners.” I dig my nails into the underside of his wrist, knowing I’ve broken skin. “So, take your hands off me. Because I believe my husband made a deal with you, and he made himself very clear. No. Sharing.”
“Abby!” Charlie pants out from behind me, and I glance briefly over my shoulder. “Fuck off, Christian,” he hisses, shoving Trent’s father away from him. Coming up to my side, Charlie looks at the standoff between me and the bastard with an obvious scowl.
Father had ample time to remove his hand from under my dress, but he’s left it there on purpose. He wants Charlie to see.
It’s a threat.
A warning.
And my stomach sours, understanding exactly what he intends to do with me.
“Get your hands off my wife.” Charlie doesn’t hesitate to defend me, shoving my father in the chest before pulling me behind him, shielding me with his body.
