“Oh, no, it’s just allergies,” I lie, getting back in character with a deep breath. “I’m sorry for zoning out. It’s been an exhausting week.”
“You should relax,” he coos, leaning into me.
I watch his long fingers brush the hem of my dress, teasing the fabric higher and higher. My heart pounds like a sledgehammer, my body frozen, cold, motionless.
He’s not wasting time, and I can’t react. If I upset him, he’ll storm out, my father won’t close the deal, and I’ll lose the chance to end this tonight.
My father is not a man of his word, but there was something in his voice when he said this would be the lastjobI’d have to complete... something I can’t name, but that gave me hope. If I do well, this will all be over by tomorrow.
One last job. One last man touching me without permission.
“Are you always this brave?” Archibald asks, closing in, the whiskey on his breath fanning my cheek. “How many men have you allowed to do this?”
“I...” My mind is reeling.
I think he knows he’s being played. I think he figured out what I’ve been doing all these years.
I’m surprised it lasted this long.
When I was younger, it was no surprise that men didn’t brag to each other about feeling up an underage girl, but since I turned eighteen, I’ve expected my father’s manipulations to come to light.
It’s been over two years, though, and none of the men I’ve been made to flirt with since I became legal seem to realize it’s just a game I’m forced to play.
Either that, or they’re purposely ignoring the signs.
Some probably keep their mouths shut to avoid marital problems. Some might be afraid of sexual assault accusations—which my father would make if anyone dared undermine him—but I would’ve expected at least a few to warn their friends.
I think Archibald might be one who’s been warned.
My palms are sleek with sweat, My heart hammers away, and blood sings in my ears when he pushes my dress higher, savoring the moment until I’m exposed. Nothing but sheer black lace stands between Archibald and an eyeful.
“I—”
“Shh, sweetheart,” he coos. “This will be our secret. Your daddy wouldn’t be pleased if he knew you were flashing those pretty panties to an old man.” His fingers brush my thigh, making camp an inch before the black lacy fabric. His guttural groan has me shaking harder. “Like I said. Boys won’t do you no good. You need a real man.”
He drags his index finger higher, touching the elastic, then lower to curve between my legs. I shut my eyes, blocking reality, my teeth cracking from gritting them so hard.
Forcing my lungs to breathe, I imagine I’m not here.
No one’s touching me without permission. No one’s using me to make money. No one’s threatening to destroy my dreams or my future.
I’m safe, locked in Cody’s arms, his long fingers entangled in my hair. His other hand ghosts along my spine, soothing, calming. My head tucked under his chin as I inhale his scent, his soft whispers tickling my ear.
“I hate you, baby girl. I hate you so fucking much.”
But I’m not with Cody.
He’s thousands of miles away, and I’m here, my mind jumping from reality to what happened last time things went this far, three years ago.
A pathetic whimper slips past my lips. It’s unmistakable, that sound. Distress, fear... but Archibald doesn’t stop. He pretends he can’t feel how much I’m shaking, how scared I am...
Or maybe that’s what gets him off.
He pretends I’m enjoying this, that I’m encouraging him as his finger slowly heads for the prize.
“You need to be very quiet, sweetheart,” he tuts, the warm stench of whiskey on his breath making my stomach churn.
I stay still, convincing myself that I can do this and survive... It’s just this one last time. Just once, and it’s over. I grit my teeth, rationalizing further, but then my phone vibrates in my clutch bag, and I know it’s Cody demanding my attention.
