Fake everything.
It doesn’t matter. My father won’t spare a second glance. He hasn’t looked at a woman since my mother died trying to give him a son. Maybe if I’d been born a boy, he wouldn’t hate me so much for forcing her to keep trying for another kid.
Who cares. It’s all ancient history.
I raise my chin and cling to Parker’s arm as he steers me through the crowd to where my father’s holding court.
“Good to see you, love.” He smiles broadly, leaning in for an embrace, then leaning back to take the sight of me in. It’s all just for show. The smile remains bright, even though I know he’s not pleased. I thought the top of his head was going to blow off when he first saw the tattoo on my neck. Like graffiti on a national monument.
That had been weeks ago, and still, I can see the swirl of rage deep in those eyes. Nobody else can, though. My dad’s a closed book.
“Hello, Daddy,” I say primly, then turn to the bulky guy standing at his side. “Senator Robbins,” I add with a tight little smile.
“Oh please, call me Roy,” the big oaf says with a smarmy smile. “I’m sure we’re beyond formalities now, aren’t we?” He reaches for my hand and clasps it between his two giant paws. I cringe but don’t pull away. My father would have shitfit.
“Of course, Roy,” I correct. “Lovely to see you, as always.” I’m keeping my most prissy private school accent in place, making sure Dad feels he’s getting his money’s worth for those exorbitant school fees. Might be easier if I wasn’t sporting a punk rock hairstyle and ink down my neck.
“That’s very interesting,” says Roy, apparently distracted by it too. Or maybe it’s my tits because he’s pretty much eyeball-fucking me. I turn a beseeching stare at my father, hoping he’llsee how revolting this is. The guy’s more than twice my age, dammit. I don’t mind a man with some mileage, but fuck, even I have limits.
“Kid’s these days, huh? I’m sure it can be removed,” my father mutters. The senator nods, though his eyes are still locked on my breasts.
“Amazing what they can do with lasers nowadays.” He leers at me, and I cringe, which he’d probably find surprising if he was aware of it. There’s a whole crap-ton of ego standing before me. He’s good-looking in a “political poster” kind of way, with a too-white smile and an overpriced haircut that’s probably hiding a receding hairline. If my dad’s aware of my discomfort, he gives no indication. Why should he? He’s happy if the sleazy senator gets a hard-on over his barely legal daughter.
Not barely legal. Twenty-fucking-two.
Who cares. Fucking pig.
“A drink, my dear?” says Senator Sleaze.
“Just a water,” I reply, seeing my dad’s eyebrows rise.
“What? No tequila tonight, lass?” He seems mildly surprised. Funny. I’d have thought he’d be thrilled.
“I’m detoxing, Daddy,” I answer, with another of those tight smiles I’m getting so good at. By the end of the evening, I’ll have completely lost the need for teeth at all. Apart from having to snap at someone’s fingers. The senator’s hand has slid up my arm and now is moving down my back.
God help me!
“Pay no mind, Robbins. I assure you, she’s not normally like this. After the wedding, things will settle, and you’ll see how quickly she gets into her role. Lot of things to like about being asenator’s wife.” My father is beaming as if he’s already watching me traipsing down the fucking aisle.
And it all hits me with a crash.
This could be my life. Married to this tosser who’s only here for my father’s money. And probably the quick thrill of fucking someone who could be his daughter.
The thought suddenly slams home as I feel his clammy hand on the bare skin of my back. The image of those hands exploring further…of me spreading my legs for that thickening waistline…
Heat rises in a rush, and I swallow back the chalky taste I’m beginning to grow accustomed to.
“You all right, love?” Dad asks. Bit late to ask that now.
But no. I’m not all right. I fight back bile. Sweat prickles on my skin.
Oh, God! I clamp a hand to my mouth.
I think I’m going to throw up!
