Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Bullshit. I don't say that, though, giving her a noncommittal grunt instead.
Logic goes out the window, and she takes it as encouragement, just like her type does. If this girl joined The Hunt, she'd be training fodder for all the guys who love an easy catch. They'd take her one after the other and leave her in the woods to piece herself back together. They might let her come if she screamed prettily enough.
She snags a glass of wine, and I pull another whiskey off the tray. I'm going to need so much of this tonight. If only to keep the stench of her perfume from burning my nose.
My wallflower always smells so clean, like strawberries and coffee sometimes. I can’t think about her here, not in this world. Not tainted by these assholes.
I let Spencer lead me along where she wants. Eventually, she stops, and I get a look at the gown she's wearing, green silk hugging tight to her tall, lithe frame, a slit that goes up to her fucking hip almost. I wonder if Spencer picked out her dress or if her mother did since she’s wearing something similarly racy. It doesn't matter. I won't be taking it off her, even if that's what she thinks will happen.
She turns to face me and gives me a smile. "You want to dance?"
I hold my arm out, and she grabs my hand instead to place it against her lower back, almost at the curve of her ass. Goddamn, this one is needy. Not enough guys at her school to torment? My entire body cringes as I touch her, and I do my best to hide it. We linger at the edge of the dance floor so I can make a quick escape if I need to. She, of course, steps into my chest, her tits brushing against me with every move.
"It's hard to waltz with you so close to me."
Her tone tips as her eyes rake over my body. "Who says we need to waltz? Hold me close, and we can just sway."
"This isn't the fucking high school prom. Have some dignity."
She tenses in my grasp, and her eyes immediately brim with tears. "What, what did you say?"
I keep us moving as she barely shifts with the music now.
"You heard me. I get you find me attractive, and you want Mommy to buy me for you, but you should know I'm not for sale, and if you push me, I will make you miserable for it."
A few tears slip free of her eyes when she blinks, and I grit my teeth, wanting to tell her there are far worse things to cry about in the world, but I don’t. Almost at the same moment, a hand clamps over my shoulder, and I recognize the hard grip immediately.
My father breathes into my ear. "Is there a fucking problem?"
I glance down at the girl, who still looks upset, but whose eyes are trained on my father now.
"Of course not. However, you're interrupting our dance."
"My apologies, but I’d like to have a word.” My father’s charming voice replaces the venomous one he just gave me, and Spencer smiles, taking a step back from me. My father whirls me around and leans into my ear. I already know what he’s going to do. His goal is always the same. “You better get your shit together and do your fucking job, or there will be hell to pay. What about Mom's next barrage of drugs? You want me to accidentally forget the pain pill regimen the doctor has worked so carefully on?"
He wouldn't fucking dare hurt her to get back at me, and still, his face has never been more serious. "Don’t believe me? How about you test me and find out."
I want to call him a bastard and elbow him in the face until a satisfying spurt of blood comes out, but acting out in violence wouldn’t change what’s already happened. He’s not worth it. This is the exact reason I never fight him. Why I always stay in line like a little toy soldier. Any sort of rebellion ends up falling back on my mother, and when you love someone, you make sacrifices for them. I just don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I spin away from him and snag Spencer's hand, dragging her to the other side of the dance floor. We get back to dancing, and her hands are tighter around me now, but she leaves a few inches of distance between our bodies.
"I’m not a genius, but I take it you and your father don't get along?"
I peer down at her. “My father is my father. I do whatever he wants me to do."
"Including dancing with me?" she pouts. "You were so charming and sweet the last time we met. It’s like you aren’t even the same person.”