Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I’ve always been curious about how the first time I’d ever meet my father would be. Dylan and I have both talked about what this day would be like—mine were always a fairy tale, and Dylan’s always rooted in reality—but nowhere in our visions did it involve me being cast off to the staff as if I’m nobody of importance. I didn’t expect to feel discarded like trash. I didn’t expect to feel so abandoned and alone. I had fantasized… I had hoped…
He moves to leave, but I quickly interject, “What about Dylan? Should we bring Dylan to stay here as well?”
I’d love to have my brother here with me as support. Maybe he could help talk some reason into Bryant. He could help me figure out this nightmare. Dylan has always hated his bloodline, but maybe if he had this opening to get to know his father and the rest of the family just as much as me, things could be different.
My father spins on his feet so he’s staring directly in my eyes. “There’s no we. Get that through your head.” He breaks eye contact and glances at the phone in his hand as if searching for anything more important than his daughter standing in front of him. “Your brother is fine.”
I notice that he doesn’t call Dylan by name.
“But if the Constantines wanted me, and others wanted—”
“The Constantines have moved on to other matters. More important matters that don’t involve my past mistakes. Nick Hudson is off licking his wounds in his Wonderland somewhere. The Sidorovs are getting what they want”—his eyes flick toward me—“and all will be good. Besides, Dylan has not only Nick’s men watching over him, but apparently my foolish niece sent a man, as well. If Nick and Sasha thought I wouldn’t find out…” He chuckles to himself as he begins texting someone.
“I just thought that since I’m here, and you and I are getting a chance to get to know each other, that Dylan would like the opportunity to as well.”
Bryant stops texting, lifts his eyes to me and smirks. “We are not getting to know each other. You are here to complete a business deal. Don’t mistake this for something it isn’t.”
His words punch at my gut, but I try to shake them off. It’s been a long trip, and I’m sure Bryant is just tired and cranky. I know that the way I ended up in the foyer of the Morelli mansion isn’t ideal, but surely he—
“I have work to do. Mrs. Lawson will show you to one of the guest rooms you can stay in while you’re here. I have a dinner arranged with the Sidorovs tonight, so be ready. I also have Sarah getting you some appropriate clothing. It’s been a long trip, so if you’re hungry before dinner, the chef in the kitchen can prepare something.”
The thought of seeing the Sidorovs again so quickly after I was kidnapped, tortured, and sold to the highest bidder like a piece of meat makes me sick. Bile forms in the back of my throat and my knees become weak. I want to be strong. I want to do what is expected of me as the newest member of the Morelli family. I want to impress my father with my courage, but I need the time to get the grit needed. Tonight is too soon. It’s too soon to wash the memories out of my mind.
“Do you think we could maybe do dinner with the Sidorovs tomorrow or even later this week, so we have time to rest—”
Bryant turns so fast with an open palm raised, that I have no time to cower away from the slap. He freezes moments before hitting me, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “Don’t ever question me.”
He doesn’t yell. In fact, his voice is very low but sinister. Each syllable oozes, drips, and coats me with its menace.
“You will only be in this house for a short time. During your stay, I expect you to be seen and not heard. Are we clear?”
I swallow back my shock and nod. “Understood,” I finally choke out when I can see that Bryant is glaring at me with expectation for a reply.
“Yes, sir is the correct response. Address me appropriately.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, my voice quivering as I do.
This is my father. This is the man who helped create me. I am his daughter and yet—
He turns to look at Mrs. Lawson who has remained at the foot of the stairs this entire time with zero emotion on her face. It’s as if domestic violence is normal in this household. “Take Lyriope upstairs.”
The sound of his heavy steps on expensive flooring mixes with the ringing in my ears as my body tries to process what just occurred.
Crash.
My fairy-tale vision of what it would be like if I were to ever meet my father just shattered into jagged little pieces. Fragments of hope, desires, and fantasies scattered all around.