Total pages in book: 174
Estimated words: 173355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 693(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 693(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
“What’s going on here?”
This time it’s my dad who cuts me off.
He arrives with a glass of red wine and a huge frown between his brows, which I know is only going to get more huge when Mom answers his question.
Which she is going to. My mother never disobeys my father. Ever.
“She’s been doing it again,” Mom says with an annoyed sigh, letting my hands go.
I was right; Dad’s frown does get huge. His lips purse as well as he looks down at me. “Is what your mom’s saying true?”
Bringing my hands back and hiding them from my father, I swallow.
“Is it true, Bronwyn?”
I jerk out a nod. “Yes. But I —”
He grinds his teeth. “How many times have I let you get away with it?”
“Dad, I —”
“How many times, Bronwyn?”
“For years.” I give him the expected answer.
“Yes. For years. And why?”
“B-because you’re my father and you love me. But I need to grow out of it now.”
“And why is that?”
My heart squeezes in my chest and I swallow to keep my emotions at bay. “Because I’m not a child anymore. I’m a grown-up and I need to… I need to be a good daughter.”
“And whose daughter are you?”
I swallow again. “Jack Littleton’s. The DA.”
He is.
An extremely well known DA and well liked; mostly because he comes from a wealthy family but has chosen to serve the public. He’s always on the news, always giving interviews, being invited to events and parties. He’s also very popular in DC, is friends with congressmen and senators.
So basically everyone knows my dad.
Which means everyone knows my mom, Jack Littleton’s wife, and me, Jack Littleton’s daughter.
“Exactly,” he says, his eyes pinning me in my place. “Which means you have responsibilities. You have duties you need to fulfill. An image you need to portray. Which means you can’t waste your time on things that are useless and inconsequential. Is that understood?”
I know the answer that’s expected of me.
I’ve given it to him multiple times before when I’ve gotten caught wasting my time.
But for some reason tonight, I want to argue with him. I want to say that it’s not useless, what I did — what I want to do. It’s not inconsequential.
It’s my… passion.
It’s something I love.
And I know that it makes me strange because of who I am and what’s expected of me. Not to mention, no one in our circle or town, which is made up of rich, influential, political people, has this passion. But can’t they try to accept it or at least see it, just once, through my eyes?
I won’t say it though.
I can’t.
Because it’s not their fault that I’m strange. That I like the things I like. They didn’t ask for a daughter like me. And he is right. I do have responsibilities.
So I jerk out a nod like I always do. “Yes.”
My father watches me for a beat before sighing and stepping back. “Good. Now your mom has already told you how important tonight is. The Rutherfords are waiting. They’re eager to see you. Robbie is eager as well. So I expect you to meet us out on the balcony in ten minutes.”
With that he turns around and walks away, leaving me alone with my mother.
Who focuses on me and says in a much calmer voice, “You heard your father. I want you to go touch up your lipstick and wash your hands, all right?” She looks me up and down critically. “Although I don’t know what I was thinking with the yellow. It doesn’t do you any favors. Especially under these lights. But it’ll have to do. Good thing Robbie is already interested in you.”
He is.
Robin Rutherford, or Robbie, is very interested in me.
He’s the son of my dad’s friend.
Who could potentially turn into an important campaign donor.
My father is up for re-election this year, which means he needs all the donations and all the money – in addition to our family money – for a successful campaign. And since Robbie has recently shown an interest in me, my father is trying to use that to his advantage.
That’s the whole reason why tonight is important.
The Rutherfords are here and Robbie has specifically asked for me.
Actually, my mom told me that he’s specifically attending this party for me.
“Which makes me think that this dress might not be such a bad choice after all,” she murmurs, looking at my chest. “It’s at least showcasing your assets.”
Right.
My assets. Meaning my breasts.
That’s the only thing about me my mother approves of: my C cups that appear like D cups if I wear a padded bra.
Robbie approves of them as well.
Given that that’s all he stares at whenever we talk.
She fiddles with the diamond necklace that she gave me to wear for tonight, continuing, “Look, I know you think we’re being harsh with you, but as your dad said, you have responsibilities. Things are expected of you. Believe it or not, we want what’s best for you. We want you to be happy. And I know you’re not a fan of Robbie. I completely understand that. But you need to trust us, okay? Remember what I said?”