Crowned by Fate (Crowned 2)

“So where are we if you think my father won’t find you? He’s the President of the United States. I’m sure he could if he wanted to.”

“That’s the thing,” Max says as we wash up our dishes. “I know he is. I have no doubt that he has the whole of America looking for you. It makes him look good.” I fold the dish towel and place it onto the counter, leaning back.

“My father has let me down many times as I have grown up,” I confess. “I used to be so envious of all the little girls who had a dad who loved them. I wanted a father who didn’t care about money, appearances, or fame. I just wanted a dad. Not a fucking president.” I didn’t realize what I had said until Max shifts directly in front of me, leaning against the counter.

“I’m sorry those two assholes let you down, Isa. What do you want to do?”

I ponder over his words. “I want revenge.”

Max nods his head, as if that’s a given.

“I want to destroy them both.”

Another nod.

“I want you with me.”

Max stills, his eyes searching mine.

I continue. “And I know that that is very selfish of me to ask, considering all that you have already done for me. I don’t know if you have a family, or a wife, or children. But I want you with me.”

Max kicks off the counter and takes a step closer to me, which is very close considering Fate is small. “You want me?” He holds my stare. My heart picks up its pace at those words leaving his lips, and my hands sweat. Why am I feeling a certain way about him? He licks his lip. “Then I’m yours.”

I exhale loudly and fling my arms around his thick neck. At the connection, my muscles relax. The tension liberated from my tight limbs. I bury my nose into the crook of his neck, my eyes closing. I can feel his skin against my lips, his smell now having the same effects on me as a shot of heroin. “Thank you,” I whisper against his flesh. Only when I mouthed the word ‘you’ it felt more like a kiss.

He tenses. “Anytime.”

Pushing back from him, I head into the bathroom to quickly scrub up. Squeezing soap into the palm of my hand, I take special care into rubbing the perfumed suds all over my body. I want to trust him, and I think a part of myself has slightly opened for him without even realizing it, but there’s a bigger part that has a strong grasp around my insecurity. That very same insecurity that is completely occupied by Bryant and my father.

I looked forward to my thirteenth birthday since the day I hit puberty. It was the day me and my girlfriends planned for weeks on end leading up to it. We were having a sleepover, we were going to watch movies, and then, when my parents were gone, we were going to raid my father and Lydia’s alcohol cupboard. We had it planned out to a T.

My friends from school were all downstairs in the home theater with sleeping bags and pillows, all giggling and talking about some new hot guy at our school, when I started jogging up the stairs. Dad kept his best alcohol in his bedroom, and I just so happened to be dumb enough to break into it.

I slipped through their door, flinching when the creaking broke through a little too loudly, and made my way to the small bar they had set up in the corner. Leaning down, I flipped open the glass door and took out a half-bottle of vodka. One that maybe he wouldn’t notice. When I stood back up, a photo caught my eye on the mantle. It wasn’t in a frame. It looked out of place, as if it had been thrown there in haste.

I picked it up. It was a woman standing in snow. She had long brown hair, a pixie face, and eyes that seemed to have seen too much evil to hold any life.

I didn’t recognize her.

Placing the photo back onto the mantle, I slip the alcohol under my oversized hoodie before making my way back downstairs.

Rubbing the water from my eyes, I shake out of my flashback, allowing it to linger around me like a fresh memory. To this day, I don’t know why that photo was there. The rest of the night went exactly how any thirteenth birthday party would go. But it was also the last birthday party I ever had. Everything from that point onward was full steam ahead with my father and politics. I didn’t know at the time what my father was planning. I didn’t think about it much at the time, either. Ever the selfish teenager. I was always the disappointment, but from that point onward it only got worse.