She looks slightly taken aback by my question but whatever. If she refuses to take her hand off me, then I need to know.
She glances down at her fingers on my arm. “Uh, yeah. Why?”
Fantastic.
I was afraid of that.
I was afraid that her hand might’ve touched other things — things like those shriveled-up balls that I was talking about — before it touched me.
Aaandthere you go. The bile is up to my teeth now.
“You look like one,” I reply, clearing my throat. “Well, allow me to get out of your way and let you leave.”
I step to the side and thankfully her hand falls away.
She gives me a heated look before nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Yeah, not a fucking chance in hell.
The moment I see her at the office tomorrow, I’m turning around and walking out of the building.
But just to fuck with her, I throw her a slight smirk and rasp, “Can’t wait.”
Her eyes light up and she practically prances out the door.
Poor… Sabrina?
Okay, I give up.
Poor whatever the fuck her name is, is going to learn real fast that I don’t pick up my father’s discarded ones. It’s the principle of the thing and the fact that my dick doesn’t work for women like that.
No offense to the women.
All offense here goes to the man who brought me into this world and who constantly cheats on my mother. And who a second later says, “She likes you.”
I’ve been watching her leave, but at his voice, I turn around and there he is.
My lovely father.
All the way across this huge room, sitting on his throne. Or his chair that looks like a throne.
It’s been here for as long as I can remember. Upholstered in polished brown leather, it has a high wide back. It makes him look larger than life. It makes him look like the king of the world, or at least Bardstown.
He specifically had it made for himself, actually.
I think he saw it on TV, this throne-like chair, and he wanted it so much that he had it custom built.
That’s my father; he wants things.
He wants money. He wants power. He wants women. He wants an ugly-ass chair that he saw on TV because he thinks it makes him look rich and powerful.
He is those things, yes. But he also loves to show off.
He loves to shove it in your face, how rich and powerful he can be.
“How tragic for her then that I don’t,” I reply, remaining by the door.
“Don’t be so hasty in your judgement, son. Stephanie’s new but she has her uses.”
