“One drink won’t hurt, but just one, sweetie.” He shoots Archibald a stern look. “Keep her safe. I need to find Richard.”
“Take your time,” Archibald says, offering me his arm.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Just like that, I’m strutting toward the bar with Archibald Duke by my side. I’m usually a wine kind of girl, but at my father’s banquets, I need something stronger to take the edge off the humiliation coursing through my veins. With a glass of neat whiskey each, we head through the patio doors, taking a seat on a bench by a large fountain outside.
I answer Archibald’s questions on volunteer work for a moment, but it’s clear from his lustful gaze that his mind is elsewhere. In the gutter, most likely. I bet he imagined fucking me ten different ways by now.
“What brings you here tonight?” I flick the ball to his court, playing dumb.
He drapes his hand over the back of the bench, gently sweeping his fingers along my nape, curling my hair behind my ear before he says, “Your father has quite the proposition for me.”
“I should have known. It’s not often these events are attended by such powerful people as yourself.”
God, this sounds so bad. Anyone with half a brain would immediately know I’m playing him, but I melt Archibald’s brain by crossing my legs as I speak.
His eyes widen, pupils dilate.
It’s a brief show, but he sure noticed. I’m not bare tonight. Even after the shopping spree with Kelly-Ann, my father didn’t confiscate my card, so I’ve bought new underwear, but a flash of the lace between my legs is enough to thicken Archibald’s blood.
My skin breaks out in goosebumps when he moves closer, turning his body around like he’s purposely giving me a better view of the bulge in his slacks.
My stomach churns painfully. Bitter bile slicks my esophagus. I swallow hard, or else the contents of my stomach will end up decorating his expensive suit.
I hate this.
I hate that he’s imagining me naked right now.
I hate that he’s touching me, even if it’s just his fingertips on my neck. Still too much contact. Contact without consent.
I’m not afforded the privilege of consent in this setting.
“You’re a very clever young woman,” Archibald rasps, his voice thick as he incredulously readjusts his hard dick. “I’d love to hear more about you.”
“Ask away. What would you like to know?”
“Let’s start with why a beautiful young woman like yourself comes to these events on your father’s arm.”
Fear quickens my heart.
Can he see through my ploy? Am I slacking? My ears ring when I picture the wrath I’ll endure if Archibald figures out he’s being used.
“I’m not sure I understand your question.”
“Why are you here with your father and not your boyfriend, sweetheart?”
“No boyfriend, I’m afraid.” Drilling the point further, luring him in with vulnerability, I add, “I wasn’t meeting his expectations, so he found what he was looking for somewhere else.”
Archibald grabs my chin, forcing my eyes to his. The unexpected move tears a surprised, a little frightened gasp from me.
“You exceed expectations.” He weighs every word, eyes falling to my lips. “You’re beautiful, Blair. If yourexdidn’t see that, it’s his loss, not yours.”
Another forced timid blush as I look away, abusing the vulnerability card. “Thank you, sir.”
“None of that, sweetheart. It’s Archibald. Boys your age wouldn’t know what to do with you anyway.” He doesn’t need to elaborate on his implication.
Dropping his hand from my chin, he sets it on my thigh, grazing my skin with his thumb. I tremble under his touch, and he takes it as a good sign, inching his fingers higher.
