You know why . . . because he couldn’t control you as easily.
After heading inside using the back door, she rushed up the back stairs to her room to hastily shower and get dressed.
When she was ready, she took a breath before heading downstairs. She didn’t even know who they were entertaining tonight.
Her father’s personal assistant just added dates and places to her calendar and she knew she had to turn up.
Or else.
As she headed into the reception room, she was surprised to find that there was only one other man beside her father in the room.
Both men turned to her. Hank was frowning. But, for once, he didn’t feel like the biggest threat in the room.
No. That definitely went to the other man.
The one who was looking her up and down and undressing her with his gaze.
A cold shiver ran through her. An omen of something terrible to come.
She’d met Lee Newsome several times, but he usually ignored her. He gave her the chills and she hated being around him.
“You’re late!” her father barked.
“S-sorry,” she stuttered. “I, um, I didn’t realize that you were waiting for me.”
“It was in your calendar. You were expected to be here on time.”
What was going on? Hank only spoke to her like that when they were alone.
Which meant that Lee knew what her father was really like. She wasn’t even sure how her father knew him or what he did. She’d asked her father about him before, but he’d always shut her down. He didn’t work for her father. He almost seemed like an advisor.
“Now, Hank, I think we can give her some grace. After all, it takes time for a woman to get ready. To make herself look all beautiful. I do like my women to take care of themselves.”
Hank still frowned but nodded. “She cleans up all right. Good breeding.”
Good breeding? Was he kidding her? Were they going to ask to check her teeth soon? To see her pedigree?
Why was this asshole undressing her with his eyes? She wanted to snap, but she held herself back.
Arabella knew her job.
She was the hostess. The dutiful daughter. Quiet and barely seen.
If she did everything her father asked, then he’d leave Pop-Pop alone.
Well. She hoped that was still the deal.
“May I get the two of you a drink?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“I’ve always appreciated how lovely she speaks,” the other man said. “So graceful.”
She wasn’t really. Sometimes she tripped over air.
“So she’s still acceptable to you?” her father asked.
Her heart raced with panic. What was happening right now? It couldn’t be what she thought, right? Maybe he meant acceptable as a . . . as a what?
What could you possibly offer this man except for one thing. The only thing that your father deems useful about you.
