Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“You are contradicting yourself.” Mom uncrossed her legs, lounging back in her seat. “You just told us you haven’t drunk a drop of alcohol and have been on your best behavior since his arrival. We haven’t seen this kind of behavior from you in years. The tabloids haven’t mentioned you once since he arrived. What would inspire us to get rid of Mr. Lockwood when obviously he is the one who should be credited for this improvement?”
I stared at her, ticked off. “If anyone deserves credit for my being on my best behavior, it would be me.” I stabbed my chest with my finger.
“I’m sorry, Sugar Pie, but your mother isn’t wrong.” Dad tugged at the collar of his cashmere sweater, smiling apologetically. “We’ve been avoiding your calls because we knew you’d try to dodge the arrangement. But the truth of the matter is…sweetheart, you need this. For whatever reason, you want nothing to do with us. You’ve been lost for far too long and you need to be found.”
You never made an honest attempt to get to know me. To help me. You never reassured me that I wasn’t a complete waste of space. You always planned things without me—vacations, moves, travel—inviting me to tag along like I was a family friend. Worst of all—you failed to protect me.
“He’s a jerk and a half,” I said instead. There was no point pleading my case to Mom and Dad. I’d tried a few times when I was a teen. They never got it.
“Oh, Bunny.” Mom clucked her tongue. “Tough love is exactly what the doctor has ordered.”
My cheeks were on fire. “There’s no love in his behavior toward me. He calls me Brat.”
My father chuckled. “I’ve been called everything under the sun. Words are just that—words.”
“Dad.” I closed my eyes, feeling my soul sagging with defeat. I was tired. So tired of my constant battle with my family. “He makes me really unhappy. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
It wasn’t the truth. Not in its entirety, anyway. Ransom fascinated and scared me. Worst of all, he attracted me, and I couldn’t allow for that to happen. Men were dangerous.
A thick blanket of silence fell over the room. For a brief moment, no one spoke. I studied my father intently. The way his fingers drummed over the desk. He was considering his answer. One of his best traits was to think before he spoke. Really think. Even if it left the person in front of him waiting.
My mother, by comparison, was a quick shooter. “If I’m allowed to be frank, Hallie, you’ve been causing us a lot of heartache and bad press. You had been utterly unmanageable, and with your sister’s wedding coming up, we simply cannot afford any slip-ups.”
Ah, this was about Hera. I should’ve known. Everything always boiled down to creating the perfect life for Hera and Craig. My lower lip curled around my upper one to stop myself from screaming.
“Mr. Lockwood is the highest rated bodyguard in North America. We wanted the very best for you.” Mother’s voice floated over my head, like a poisonous cloud of smoke. “I pray that when his post is over, you consider spending some time with us in Texas to mend our relationship. For now, you’re going to have to make do with him.”
I looked up, feeling my eyes burning with unshed tears. I spoke through gritted teeth. “You don’t love me, you tolerate me. Don’t think I don’t see the difference.”
My mother stood up. In this light, I could see every wrinkle in her face. She wore her age with pride. Deemed women who hid behind fillers and Botox tacky and uncultured.
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course we love you.” She brushed dog hair from her clothes, her words hollow and empty. “We’re crazy about you. You are our child, Bunny.”
“Your mother is right. Also, you can use one of the guestrooms.” My father stood up, on cue, to join my mother. “Dinner is at six, and we’ll be having company.”
He stared pointedly at my clothes. Fix yourself up, Sugar Pie. Please. For me.
At the door, my mother paused, her hand fluttering over the frame. “It’s good to have you back. I don’t always understand where you are coming from, but you always light up the room when you’re here.”
They left, leaving the door open. I could hear them picking up the conversation they’d left off before we entered the office. Skiing versus a sunny Christmas getaway. I couldn’t muster the energy to move an inch. I slacked there for a few moments, my gaze gliding over the walls. Pictures of my father hugging and shaking hands with other world leaders glared back at me.
I couldn’t stay here. Or maybe I could. Maybe I simply didn’t want to. Since no one gave two shits about what I wanted, it was time to do something for myself.