“I have to go,” I say, my finger hovering over the end call button as I reach for the handle.
“Wait. Don’t talk to her, okay? She might be all smiles and kindness, but Shawn says those are the ones who suddenly snap and go batshit crazy.”
“I got a notification you spent eight hundred dollars at Victoria’s Secret!” my father booms, shoving the door wide open in one hard kick. “Who the fuckare you dressing up for?”
Words stick to my throat as Gideon Fitzpatrick towers above me, nostrils flared, hand raised like he’s about to smack me.
I’ve seen this so many times. The memories of him in this exact stance, wearing the same malicious sneer, as he took his anger out on Mom whenever she hallucinated, threaten to bring me to my knees.
My breath falters in my lungs, my body stiff, unmoving as I wait for him to strike... Not until he pushes a gush of angry air down his nose and his hand falls to his side do I inhale deeply, feeling like I dodged a bullet.
But my mind riots almost instantly when I realize I’m clutching my phone and Cody’s still on the line.
Shit, shit, shit.
I kill the connection before my dad notices, but he’s too busy gathering my shopping bags and storming into my walk-in closet. I hear the wardrobe doors and drawers clattering until he returns, the bags filled with every piece of my lingerie.
“Who are you sleeping with?” he snaps, little torches swimming in his eyes. “Who?!”
“No one, I swear... I went shopping because Kelly-Ann—”
“Spare me the bullshit Kelly-Ann story. I don’t care, but you better not be dating some fucker behind my back because I will find out, and if you’re whoring around while you’re working for me, there’ll be hell to pay.”
He wasn’t always like this. Until last year, he didn’t give a damn who I date or sleep with, but then Grant Bailey happened. A twenty-seven-year-old, smart, caring man I met at a coffee house. We hit it off and started casually dating. Nothing too serious, but I enjoyed spending time with him.
It was right about when Dad was looking for an accountant he could manipulate into doing the books the way he commanded. He staged dinner with him and his associate to talk a bit of business, and, doing my job, I flashed the accountant my pussy at the table. His hand went to my knee, and that’s when his associate joined us.
My fling, Grant.
It was a nasty evening. My father was—rightly so—accused of using me as bait, so I had to lie through my teeth, making up a story that I was the one who wanted to meet him because I’d heard so much about him from Grant, and had seen him somewhere or other and developed intense feelings.
Thankfully, he was very handsome, so the lie got swallowed, and my dad was off the hook. But from then on, I wasn’t allowed to date or have a sexual relationship with anyone becausewe are not risking the same situation ever again.
“I’m not seeing anyone, I promise,” I add again, quickly diverting his attention away from my personal life. “Are we going somewhere? Should I get ready?”
He clamps his jaw tight, teeth gnashing as he pacifies himself. “You have two fucking minutes to get dressed.”
With a tight nod, I scurry toward my bedroom. I’ve pissed Dad off enough lately, and I’m not willing to face the inevitable consequences.
Once I fit into one of the many red dresses and slide my feet into heels, I glance in the mirror, staring into my dark blue irises surrounded by a smokey eye. Red lips, tight dress, layered necklaces, diamonds... Blair for the world.
I wish I didn’t have to do this. It felt great to wear sweats or jeans with Cody, not an ounce of judgment in his eyes...
With one last touch of mascara, I join my father in the living room, hyperaware that I’m currentlynotwearing panties since all of mine are in the bags he’s holding. I checked, but he even went to the extreme of picking out my lingerie from the bathroom hamper.
“You want a dick, Blair?” Dad snaps, his lips curling into a mocking smile. “I’ve got one you can have.”
With that, he yanks the door open, where wide-eyed Ana sits with her back to Cody’s.
“Are you okay here, sweetheart? Are you waiting for someone? A boyfriend, perhaps?” my father coos at Ana. “Cody Hayes, correct?” he adds, eyeing the door she’s resting against.
Behind his back, I softly bob my head, praying that she confirms. Her lips part, but she says nothing for a second, until she swallows like she’s making room for words.
“Yes, sir. Cody Hayes.”
“You got yourself a keeper there, sweetheart. I’m sure you heardnothing, but I apologize for all the screaming.”
The implied threat innothingisnot lost on Ana. He stares her down, acting concerned and apologetic, but I know his eyes speak volumes as he waits for her to nod in confirmation that she’ll keep her mouth shut.
