Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I could puke. I really hope that isn’t innuendo coming from my own father. “Someone helped me, if that’s what you mean, no thanks to your asshole security team.”
He waves a dismissive hand. “I’m sure they would’ve gotten to you eventually.”
“Right, after I was stabbed to death. Which would’ve been nice for you, right? One less daughter and one less problem.”
“The thought had occurred.”
“What do you want, Dad?”
He sighs dramatically and gets up. I keep myself under control and refuse to let him see me squirm. I’m exhausted from having sex for most of the night and still aching between my legs, and I’m deeply aware of how badly I need to shower. But I don’t let any of that show on my face.
Give this man a glimpse of weakness and he’ll pounce.
“Do you know who it is you went home with last night?” He takes the record off the turntable and puts it back into its sleeve.
“I know the man who helped me is named Stefano.”
“That’s right. Stefano Bianchi.” He slips the record back into the wall, carefully and lovingly running his fingers over the spines. I don’t think he’s ever looked at me like that a single time in my life. I’ve been letting him down since the day I was born, and that’ll never change. “A very dangerous man, by all accounts. And what, twenty years older than you?”
I grimace slightly and have to look away. I didn’t realize he was that much older than me…
“What’s it matter how old he is? Stefano saved my life.”
“I suppose it’s good you thanked him so thoroughly then.”
That’s a step too far. I stand up, blazing with rage. I’m aware of how precarious this situation is, but I can’t help myself. “If all you’re going to do is make baseless accusations—”
Dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Baseless? Oh, Charlotte. You should know me better than that by now.”
My stomach drops. Because I really do know him. Maybe better than anyone in the world. My father is a snake and a slime. He’s rotten mold at the bottom of a leaking bathtub. He’ll kill without a second thought so long as it gets him what he wants.
And all he wants is my inheritance.
“Bullshit,” I snap, trembling. I want to get out of here right now, but I have to call his bluff first. “You have nothing.”
“Actually—” He walks over to a fancy table covered in old tube audio gear. There’s a folder lying at the end. He picks it up and brings it over with a tight smile. “Take a look.”
I flip it open and nearly scream.
It’s me and Stefano. In the photos, I’m entering Stefano’s house. Then it’s a grainy, zoomed, tight shot of me, topless, barely glimpsed through a set of blinds, clearly taken at a distance with a high-powered camera lens, my eyes are closed in pure bliss—
I snap the folder shut. There are more photos, but I don’t want to see them.
I feel sick. I might throw up. I can’t believe this is happening.
How could I have been so stupid? His blinds were open? But knowing my father and his little minions, Stefano could’ve had the best curtains in the world, and they would’ve found a way to get the evidence they need.
“I’m your daughter,” I whisper, wanting to vomit all over my father’s expensive audio toys.
“Yes, I’m aware. Imagine how I felt when I was given those?” He clucks his tongue and sighs. “I took one look and knew they were very bad. What is your grandfather going to think, Charlotte?”
I can’t cry. I won’t give him that satisfaction. But tears flood my eyes anyway. I’m choked by them and have to take a second. I toss the folder aside, tempted to rip it to pieces, but there’s no way these are his only copies.
How could I be so stupid?
I knew my father wanted to destroy me. I’ve known it for years. It’s like the second I became Grandfather’s primary heir, suddenly I was dead to everyone else in my family. My father’s been trying to destroy me. My mother’s been treating me like a diseased freak. Aunts, uncles, cousins, everyone sneers behind my back just waiting to sink a dagger deep into my spine.
No wonder I spend all my time at the warehouse pretending to be anyone else.
My own family despises me.
“You’re sick,” I finally manage to whisper. “Even for you, this is low.”
“Perhaps, but we both know how your grandfather is. He’s very traditional, dear. If he knows you’ve been fucking some mafia thug—” Father laughs lightly. “I suspect he’ll lose his mind.”
“What do you want?” But I already know. I stare at my father, loathing pooling in my toes, feeling like I’ve fallen off a skyscraper. I’m nothing but pulp on the sidewalk now. Just a smear of human meat.