Making the Break (Beating the Biker 2)

She did.

Chrissy stalked up the ancient steps like preparing to enter the battlefield.

She was at the end of her patience. Her parents and her grandfather interfered with her life too much. It was bad enough Chrissy messed up her career, though that wasn’t entirely her fault. Her boss’ boss had no business trying to get handsy with her. But this thing with Saks? That was almost entirely her fault.

Except the sleeping with Saks thing. That was on her. But that was at an end, dammit, and she would just put the whole thing behind her. She’d eventually forget about the sexy biker who made her heart race like his motorcycle engine. His eyes, his dark hair, the scruff on his chin when he didn’t shave, his cologne, and his to die for body would fade from her mind.

Eventually.

It just had to.

Because it would hurt too hard if it didn’t.

She swallowed hard, not wanting to recognize the nervousness in her gut. But, yes, there was still a little girl response deep inside her where she didn’t want to disappoint her parents. Damn. After all this time and all the accomplishments she’d earned from her own hard work, she was still afraid of angering Mommy and Daddy.

Call it like you see it, Serafini, she told herself. You’re a wuss.

Now she was angry; not just at herself but her parents, too.

Good.

With the new fire in her belly, she wouldn’t back down. Her parents and her grandfather would have to understand that she would take back control of her own life, whether they liked it or not.

Gloria walked into the living room from the dining room, carrying a bowl of ice cream.

Great. Gloria was stuck here as well? “So they’re jailing you, too?”

“What are you talking about?” Her sister’s face scrunched in confusion.

“Didn’t they demand that you come home?”

“No—”

But Chrissy wouldn’t give the scheming rat a chance to say anything else. “Where are they?”

“In the study.”

“All of them?”

Gloria nodded, and then shook her head. “What are you about to do, Chrissy?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

Chrissy stomped to the library doors and swung them open. Her grandfather sat at the desk and her father and mother sat in the leather chairs off to the side. They all looked up in surprise.

Well, she had a few surprises for them.

“Chrissy,” said her mother. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Stupidest question in the world. “What’s wrong is you people dragging me here against my will.”

“You need to grow up and be responsible, young lady,” said her father sternly.

His patronizing tone fired her anger even more. Grow up? Young lady? Wasn’t that an oxymoron? “Young lady? I am a woman. A grown woman. I’m tired of you, Mom, and Granddad here running my life.”

“Chrissy!” her mother protested.

“It was bad enough you threw me at Saks. Trying to force a marriage.”