Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
My father’s demands on me in this life.
The public image of who I am to him.
And the marriage he keeps pushing me for.
Father lets me work at the bar as long as I stay low key and attend all of his functions. It’s a deal we struck a long time ago. He gave me the money when I turned eighteen to go traveling, and when I came back, I was covered in tattoos and had discovered myself. He didn’t like who I had become, so we made a deal. I stay squeaky clean, cause no fuss for him, and I don’t pay him back. Plus, I can live the life I want.
“Carla, that’s you.”
My skirt drops, showing a red lacy G-string. Eyes the color of whiskey shine brightly at the camera. He winks with mischief at the camera and lifts me up, biting my neck before throwing me onto the bed.
“Fuck, that’s hot.”
“Turn it off,” I say, but I can’t look away. It’s like a train wreck happening right in front of my eyes. I can feel his hands all over my body, as if I am right back in that night all over again. How could I have been so stupid?
“It can’t be that bad. Can it?” She gets up, grabs the contract, and starts reading it. “He wants you to agree to marry him on the day of…” Her eyebrows go up so high they almost touch her hairline, then she looks at me. “Fuck! It’s in four weeks, Carla.”
“No way. I am not doing it. I’ll find a way out of this.” I scoff. “Why would he do that? Why would he go to such lengths to marry me?”
“It reads it’s only for a year.”
I look up at Emma, now with her glasses on, reading over the many-paged contract.
“Wow! If you don’t agree, Carla, a copy of that CD will be sent to your father as well as the local television news.”
“He’s lying, right?” I pull the contract from her hand as she points to where I’m to read. And when I read what she just said, the paper flutters to the floor, like I do.
“My father will disown me. This could ruin him.”
“I’m more worried about you than him.” Emma comes up behind me, drops to the floor, and wraps her arms around my waist. She’s right. Something like this getting out could absolutely ruin my reputation and possibly get me fired or hinder me from getting future work. After all, who would want to hire a star of a sex tape.
“He’s left his number. Tomorrow, after you’ve rested, you should call him.”
I pull away and reach over to grab the paperwork, finding his number and putting it straight into my cell phone and saving it under ‘asshole,’ then I press call.
“Carla, I presume.”
No hello, no nothing.
Yep, one hundred percent asshole!
“You presumed right, asshole.”
“Oh, come on, Carla. Is that any way to speak to your future husband?”
“My what?” I scoff at him.
I can hear his laughter through the phone, and it only makes me angrier. “I will not marry you! I don’t care what you do.” He doesn’t speak, so I continue, “And why on earth would you want to marry me? What game are you playing at?”
“You don’t need to know any of that, Carla. You simply have to agree.”
“Well, I don’t agree.” I hang up and turn to see Emma, who’s now standing with her arms crossed as she watches me.
“I don’t want to say it, but I already know what you’re going to do.”
I stand and shake my head at her words. “You don’t.”
“I do because it’s what you always do. You’ll do what is best for your father. But think about this, Carla. This is all about you. Your life. You need to do what’s best for you. And marrying someone because of blackmail is not something you should do, no matter the consequences or how many orgasms he gave you.”
“I never said I’d marry him.”
She walks past me and goes to her room. Opening the door, she looks back at me. “But you will. And my guess is that man knows this fact as well. How much did you tell him that night?”
“I don’t remember. I was drinking.” I cringe thinking back to that night. I told him a lot, that much I know for sure, but I never thought I’d see him again. Fuck! How wrong was I?
Emma’s long nails tap on the door’s edge. “I suggest you don’t drink around him ever again. You know… when you’re married.” She smiles before she ducks into her room, shutting the door behind her.
My phone dings and I want to throw it as far away from me as possible. I want to smash it to pieces, so I never have to deal with Corton Whiskey again.