MY EYES STING. Concealer and a heap of foundation barely cover the puffiness—the aftermath of a day spent crying. I stop in the doorway of the Country Club’s private room, mentally preparing before I step into the elegant, luxuriously decorated space.
A warm golden light spills from the chandeliers overhead, casting a warm glow on the impeccably dressed crowd mingling around me. Polite conversation and the clinking of crystal glasses create a humming soundtrack, but I feel like a hollow shell, a puppet going through the motions. A prop in this performance. My father’s done-up doll.
My dress is red as always. It’s inappropriate, with its short, shimmery length leaving little to the imagination. And, as always, that’s what my father wanted me to wear… another task, another demand in this charade.
Gideon Fitzpatrick is impossible to overlook. He towers over the throng, standing by the bar, exuding an air of authority that immediately draws attention. He’s alone, leaning over the counter as he orders a drink.
His gaze scans over me, a satisfied smirk curving his lips as he takes in my attire. “Blair,” he acknowledges, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Good to see you’re making the right choices. Did you tell Cody first, or did you flee like a coward?”
His snide remark could be a punch to the gut and I wouldn’t tell the difference. He knows exactly which words hurt most. Before I retort, we’re interrupted. Archibald Duke enters the scene, saving the day, in a way. I’m not sure if I was about to retaliate or break down into pathetic, ugly sobs, but neither would have been good.
Archibald’s eyes shine as they sweep over me, a predatory grin taking real estate across his chiseled face. “Good evening, sweetheart,” he greets, taking my hand to press a lingering kiss on the back. “You look very nice tonight.”
In a well-practiced move, my father finds something in the crowd that requires his immediate attention.
“I’ll be right back,” he promises. “Five minutes, Archibald.”
“Take your time. We’ll order some drinks.” He snaps his fingers at the bartender as my father retreats. “Whiskey and a glass of your finest white.”
“Of course, sir.”
Once the bartender turns around, Archibald seizes the moment, resting his grubby palm on my lower back, the gesture serving as a reminder of what he expects tonight.
“Nice doesn’t do you justice,” he says, leaning closer to my ear, warm breath kissing my neck. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. And this dress… a masterpiece.”
Playing my role, I smile, thanking him quietly, my attention on the bartender, who takes all but a minute to slide two glasses across the counter.
And once again, Archibald seizes the moment, taking me outside. We sit on the same bench I sat on with Mr. Simons, and I just know tonight will go down the same way.
My mind veers to Cody of its own accord, and the messages I found when I switched on my phone earlier.
Cody: What the hell happened?
Cody: Why did you leave?
Cody: Fuck, B! If you’re running because you’re scared, I get it, but you could’ve fucking said you didn’t want to come!
And then, an hour after those messages, another one arrived, the tone much different.
Cody: Just let me know you’re okay.
The reality of what I willingly, knowingly gave up sinks into my bones. I didn’t have time to think it through when I ran. Now, I wonder how I’ll face him when he returns. How will I explain myself?
Archibald’s touch on my cheek pulls me back into reality. His gaze is gentle, though still aroused, despite the deep eleven marking his wrinkled forehead. “Blair, is everything okay, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his voice a soft whisper. “You’ve been crying, haven’t you?”
“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 last job I’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.
It’s as if he knows I need him right now.
His face flashes before my eyes, an avalanche of beautiful memories flooding my system.
I can’t take this anymore. Not one more second of humiliation, degradation, and fear. No amount of money is worth this. It was when I hadn’t known anything better.
It was worth it before Cody showed me what happiness and real, unconditional love feels like.
Before him, only my mother offered me her attention without expectation. Everyone else either wanted something in return or wanted me to act a certain way. My so-called friends stood beside me because they looked up to me, were scared of me, or could use me for money or popularity.
Everyone had an agenda.
Everyone but my mother and Cody.
“Stop punishing yourself. You’ve grown. You learned. You’re a better person than you were back then. I know you weren’t cruel for the sake of being cruel, baby. Why can’t you see that? It was a defense mechanism against your own hurt. You think your feelings, past, and everything you endured doesn’t carry any weight? That none of it left a mark? You’re not a bad person. You’re aware of the wrongs. You think you’re inflicting justifiable punishment on yourself, but you’re taking it too far. Enough, baby. Time to take a step forward.”
I deserve to be happy.
I’m not out of the woods, there’s still so much that needs fixing, but I’m willing to stop punishing myself. Stop believing I’m not worth a chance.
I am. I can do better. I can earn his family’s forgiveness and make Cody happy. I know I can.
My body immediately goes into combat mode, but I stop before pushing Archibald away with everything I have. If I make a scene, I won’t have time to get away before my father follows.
I probably won’t even reach my car.
A questionable plan forms within seconds. Instead of fighting Archibald off, I force myself to relax as I lean into his gentle touch.
X marks the spot.
He finds the prize, his finger drawing from the fabric-covered entrance up to my mound. My entire body stiffens. The thin fabric of my panties is all that separates his skin from mine.
He drags his finger down again as if looking for wetness that’s not there. Spurring him on, I part my lips, letting out an almost inaudible gasp.
“Shh, sweetheart. We don’t want to get caught, do we?”
“I can’t,” I murmur, doing my best not to sound like I’m about to hurl. “I can’t keep quiet when you do this.”
“This?” He rolls my clit under his finger, then pinches hard, earning a tiny artificial moan. “You’re spectacular, sweetheart.”
“Could we—” I pause purposefully, rolling my eyes back like I love what he’s doing. “Could we please go somewhere else? Somewhere I won’t have to be quiet?”
A low grunt tears from his chest. “I’m not sure your father would be happy if he saw us leave together.”
Inching even closer, I line his ear with my lips. “He doesn’t have to know. I can tell him I don’t feel well, and meet you in the parking lot in fifteen…” Another fake needy gasp. “No, not that long… ten minutes. I have a car here, we can go back to my place. I live alone.”
“Not your place. I have a spot in town.” He pulls his hand away.
I almost cry in relief, but catch myself in time, making a soft, disappointed sound. It does the trick. The corner of his mouth lifts, his eyes darker than coal.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he coos, slopping a kiss on my temple. “Daddy’s going to take care of you very soon.”
My stomach twists, but I keep my composure intact as he hands me a black business card. There’s nothing on it apart from an address. No name, no logo, just the address. Telling me Archibald takes a lot of women there.
“Judging by how he treated you last time you left before he allowed it, I think it’s safer if I make an excuse on your behalf,” he says, driving his hand down my thigh to stop on my knee. “Meet me there in an hour.” He taps the card.
For the first time since I met the man, I feel a tiny bit of gratitude toward him. He just bought me time to pack my things. I’m sure my father will head for my doorstep the moment Archibald leaves this party.
That’s what I want. I want him to come so I can tell him it’s over. I won’t follow his orders any longer but this extra time allows me to plan a little better.
“What color do you like?” I ask, building up on my lie, so he won’t have any reason to doubt me. “I’ll make sure I wear it.”
“Oh, you’re gonna be such a treat. I like white.” He takes my hand, helping me up. “Go, sweetheart. I’ll see you in an hour. Go around the building, don’t go back inside.”
I readjust my dress, trying not to break into a sprint as I walk away, looking back a few times before I disappear behind the corner.
It’s a blessing that Dad couldn’t pick me up today, because my car is here. Not even three minutes later, I’m on the road, my hands shaking, heart pumping blood faster.
I’m officially homeless.
It won’t take long before my father comes after me. As soon as Archibald tells him that I left because I wasn’t feeling well, he’ll see through the ploy, and I’ll be facing the wrath of all the gods. Not even an hour from now, I’ll be homeless. Broke. Discarded.
But instead of feeling defeated, I feel oddly at peace. The only thing left is to get to my condo and pack as many things as I can before my father turns up and starts throwing everything away to intimidate me into cooperating.
I check the clock on the dashboard—almost one o’clock in the morning. My mind immediately goes to Cody, wondering what he’s doing right now. The rehearsal dinner must be over. I imagine he’s drinking with his brothers. I doubt he told them about us, but I’m sure he’ll need a drink.
I don’t let my mind linger there too long. There’ll be time to think of apologies and how to best explain why I left once this nightmare is over.
By the time I push the key in the lock, I have a plan in place. Leaving my door wide open, I open Cody’s apartment. He gave me a key so I could let myself in whenever I needed him.
I need him now.
Why is it that people only appreciate what they have when they lose it? Why couldn’t I have seen how misguided my self-punishment was and how much I want to stop it while I was still with Cody at the airport?
Kicking my heels off, I pull out a suitcase, dropping it onto the bed, and empty the documents drawer first. They’re what I’ll need most. Then it’s the money I’ve been collecting for the past few weeks in case my father cuts me off again.
There’s not much there, not even ten grand, but it’s enough for a deposit on a small apartment. The rest will keep me afloat while I search for a job.
Jewelry is next. I don’t pack everything, just things I got from friends over the years, and a few things I bought without my father knowing. I add the few designer purses and shoes I haven’t yet sold, so I can pawn them when I run low on cash. Then, I pack clothes. No red dresses. Just jeans, t-shirts, Cody’s hoodies, and a few pairs of sneakers.
It takes less than ten minutes before I zip the suitcase and wheel it across into Cody’s apartment. I leave it in the bedroom, along with my phone, then lock the door and peel up the carpet by Cody’s door, stashing the key there.
And then I wait.
