“Fuck you, Florian!” she screeches instead of acknowledging the truth.
Maybe she’s embarrassed that I know what she does with other men, but she shouldn’t be because I couldn’t care less. She’s a piece of ass to me and most likely to them too. A very nice piece of ass, but not special, which I’ve told her many times. It may make me a bastard, but I would never lie to her, no matter the situation.
“You think you can just get rid of me? Just wait until my father hears about this.”
She storms out of my bedroom, then out of my penthouse, the door slamming behind her.
I’m not worried. I’ve already spoken to her father, and I let him know there is no chance of me marrying his daughter. He understood, and we forged an alliance because he can’t stand my father. He’d rather deal with me and give the middle finger to my father, even if I’m not married to Adahlia.
“One thing off my plate.”
12
Arabelle
Ignoring any sense of etiquette, I storm into my father’s study, the door crashing open, and throw the envelope onto his desk. This used to be one of the places I had very fond memories of from my childhood, when my father was still a loving and supportive parent. Now, he’s turned into a parasite who exploits me. I’ll always look at him and this place differently. He’s tainted every memory I have of him.
His eyes meet mine, filled with disappointment as if my abrupt entrance into his sacred space has upset him, but he keeps his silence. He picks up the envelope, opens it, pulls the contract from the envelope, and flips through it until he reaches the last page.
“I signed it.”
I cross my arms over my chest. He lets out a tired sigh and places the papers on the desk before lifting his gaze to meet mine.
“I didn’t want this for you, Arabelle. Believe me.”
“Believe you? You can’t be serious? Why the hell do you think I’d believe anything you have to say!”
“Do you think I want you to marry a man like Florian Larsson?” he asks. “He’s heartless. He’s a ruthless man who shows no mercy.”
He shakes his head like he’s so distraught at my situation. Yet, he had no problem handing me a contract and asking me to sign my life away because he knows I can’t say no, regardless of how much he uses me.
“And yet, I have to marry someone who will treat me like I’m less than nothing because you’re an addict who can’t take care of his sick daughter! Raven’s an alcoholic who has liver disease! Or did you not give a damn because you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to her if I can help it?”
Do I believe he’s sorry for putting me in this position? No, I don’t. Do I think he cares he’s ruined my life? As long as he can keep his money and company, he couldn’t care less about me. That contract shows me all I need to know about what my father thinks about me.
“Arabelle.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I never wanted this to happen, especially to you.”
“Of course you did, Daddy. You’re the one who put me in this position, knowing you couldn’t pay a goddamn thing!”
“Watch your tone with me, young lady!”
“My tone!” I toss my hands in the air. “My tone! That’s what you’re worried about right now? You’re worried about how I’m talking to you when I’ve just signed my damn life over to a man who I don’t know because of you!” I yell, pointing at him. “And you want me to watch my tone? You’re so fucking unbelievable.”
He jumps to his feet. “Now you wait one goddamn minute, Arabelle Michelle Williamson. If it wasn’t for me,”—he points to himself—“you wouldn’t be where you are! I’ve done everything for you!”
“When, Dad? Tell me when you’ve done anything for me when it didn’t benefit you or my sisters?”
“Who do you think paid for all those goddamn lessons, Belle?” He places both palms on his desk and leans forward, glaring at me. “It sure as hell wasn’t your mother! It was me, whether you want to acknowledge it or not!”
Of course, he would bring up that he paid for all my dance lessons, travel expenses, and whatever else I needed when I first started dancing. But isn’t that what he was supposed to do as my father?
Although he paid for everything, he seldom showed up to watch me dance. He never took me to rehearsals or recitals. Even after my mother died, the nanny took me to all those things.
When I was younger, it bothered me that he didn’t show up for anything that I did. Now, I don’t care if he ever sees me dance again. He just reaps the benefits of my hard work. He and both my sisters sit on their asses and do absolutely nothing.
I huff. “And I’ve paid you back tenfold for any money you dished out for me when I was a child! I’ve been paying you back since I got my first paycheck, but no more. This is it. Don’t ask me for another goddamn dime. Your daughters, who don’t want to work, who I’ve been footing the bill for since I was fucking fifteen years old, are cut off too. I’m no longer your or their personal piggy bank! I’m done with you and them. You no longer have a daughter, and they no longer have a sister. From here on out, every one of you will make your own damn way, just like I have.”
“Arabelle, we’re your family! You know we need your help!”
