Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Dad makes me wait an agonizingly long several beats. It’s his thing he does if he thinks you’re being rude. I’m not a child anymore, though. I won’t squirm uncomfortably until he speaks again. I’m onto his controlling, superior games.
“I have it on good authority that your sister’s boyfriend will be proposing soon.”
His words shake me to my core for some reason. This isn’t news to me but hearing it from someone besides Rhett is jarring. When it’s just me and him, it feels like we have a relationship. It feels domestic and happy and real. I know he’s with Angela, but when he’s with me, I can sort of pretend it’s not real.
“Oh yeah?” I croak out. “Cool.”
“I know you don’t give two shits,” Dad grumbles, “but it’s in your best interest to start showing concern.”
A burst of hot anger surges through me. “Why’s that?”
He ignores my clipped tone. “You want your money, don’t you?”
The heat from moments before is doused as ice freezes my bones.
“Your mother thinks it’ll look good for you to stand beside your sister on her wedding day as the maid-of-honor. Naturally, Angela has her qualms about this, but your mother insists. She should know weddings aren’t just about the couple. It’s about the family and what they want.” He laughs. “We’re paying for it, so what we say goes anyway.”
I don’t join in on his humor. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Angela hates me,” I say through gritted teeth. Plus, there’s no way I could watch the man I’m falling for marry my witchy sister.
“It’s just a phase,” Dad states, bulldozing past my concerns. “She’ll be happy one day once the two of you smooth things over.”
“She called me a whore.” My voice cracks. “After the Beau situation—”
“Just words, Abigail. Learn not to be so fragile. My God.”
I breathe deeply so I don’t say something hateful to my father. “The answer is no. I’m not doing it.”
“You will do it,” he grits out. “If you want the two million dollars, you’ll do as I say, child.”
My mind reels at his words. A shudder ripples through me. I realize now my rape was worth two million dollars. That didn’t even make a dent in Beau’s checking account. But, to Dad, it seemed sufficient to keep his silence.
“That’s blood money,” I hiss. “I don’t want it.”
“For fuck’s sake, Abigail. Don’t be such a toddler. I know you attempted to use my card at that diner months ago which meant you ran out of money and were hungry. You’ve thrown your tantrum long enough. Come back home. We’ll get you into rehab, give you your car back, you’ll be two million dollars richer. Where shall I pick you up?”
“Don’t call me again,” I rasp out before ending the call.
It only takes Dad thirty-seven minutes to have my phone disconnected.
Asshole.
Boom!
I sit up in bed, terror clawing at my chest. Slowly, I ease out of bed and stumble for the door. Heavy footsteps thud up the steps, and for a second, I don’t recognize them. Too heavy. Too angry. Too fast.
Turning on my heel, I hurry past my bed to the closet where I’ve stashed my mace. I’m not sure I can get to it in time, but I have to try. I scramble in the dark, knocking things off shelves until I grasp the cool metal. Someone grabs me from behind, though, and I drop the mace at my feet.
A bloodcurdling scream escapes me until a deep familiar voice rumbles through my veins.
“Calm down, honey, it’s me.”
I twist around in his arms and fling myself into them. He grabs my ass, picking me up. My legs hook around his waist and I squeeze his neck.
“I didn’t expect this reaction,” he grumbles. “I came here expecting a fight.”
A laugh bursts out of me. One of the cats meows his displeasure.
“A fight? In the middle of the night? I’m crazy but not that crazy.”
One of his hands slides up my back and into my hair. His fingers tangle in the strands. He tugs just hard enough to tilt my head back. When his lips ghost over my neck, I let out a shameful moan.
“You don’t make any sense.” He kisses my neck and then sighs. “Why were you avoiding me then?”
“Avoiding you? I’ve been here the whole time.”
“I texted you like thirty times, Abs. Called you almost as many. What the fuck? I thought you or the baby were hurt.”
I relax in his arms, toying with his hair in the dark, wishing I could see his handsome face. “Dad called. When I said I wouldn’t be the maid-of-honor at your wedding, he took me off his phone plan, apparently.”
“Asshole,” Rhett murmurs. “I’ll get you on my plan ASAP.”
“Don’t you get tired of taking care of me?”
“Never.”
He carries me over to the bed and gently places me on the mattress. I can hear him shuffling as he removes his clothes. Then, he slides into bed with me. Too much of our bare skin touches to be normal, but I don’t care. I love every sensation—how he smells, how he feels, how he sounds, how he tastes.