Triple Threat (Deception Duet 1)

He’s drunk.

Or at least, fast getting there.

And he always promises he’ll never let it happen again. Just wine. Wine is safe. Whichever hard liquor he’s tried to drown himself in is anything but safe.

“I love that dress,” I agree, my voice a mere whisper. “I’ll go change.”

“Good girl.” He doesn’t release his grip on my jaw. “You need to understand something about tonight. This dinner is nothing more than a power move. It’s a chance to align ourselves with one of the wealthiest families in the world.”

“I understand.”

He shakes his head slowly. “No, you don’t. You will not make this easy for him. I will not have my daughter whoring herself out on the first date.” His eyes narrow. “You’ll take your time and drag this out for as long as I say. I want to make sure this arrangement is beneficial to us in every way. You winding up pregnant or ending up on the cover of every tabloid magazine in compromising photos will not happen.”

“Dad…”

“Change your dress and wipe that goddamn lipstick off. I can’t look at you right now.”

Without another word, he releases me and storms from my room. Tears well in my eyes, blurring the room in front of me, as I try desperately to get air to enter my lungs. It’s as though a vise is clamped around my throat, keeping me from taking a breath.

I remain frozen for God only knows how long and am only jolted into movement at the sound of the doorbell. The sound of men speaking to each other can be heard which means my dinner date is here. Quickly, I rush into my large closet and strip out of my dress. I exchange it for the dress Dad wants me to wear. Once I’ve pulled the material into place, I leave the closet to make my way to my vanity.

The girl staring back at me doesn’t feel like me. This girl is haunted. Terrified. So tired.

I use a makeup pad to remove the lipstick and exchange it for a soft pink gloss instead. Since my eyes keep threatening to spill over with tears, I take a minute to touch up my eye makeup. Finally, I feel like I could be presentable and acceptable in my father’s eyes.

Yesterday, I let Ford distract me at school, but tomorrow, I’m going to try and slip out of class early to do some research in the media center since I won’t have security breathing down my neck like at home. Maybe I can figure out a way to access my trust fund without him knowing. As it stands, the second I attempt to withdrawal any of it from the bank, they’ll notify him to make sure it’s allowed. Which it’s not. The twenty bucks he gave me this week for coffee and snacks at school won’t get me very far. I know he probably keeps a stash of money and jewels in his safe, but that’s a risk I can’t take again. What’s in there that’s so valuable anyway?

At this rate, I’m never going anywhere. He’s smarter than me and always ten steps ahead. Every time I think I have some grand idea, reality squashes it.

The quicker I can figure out a plan to get me and Della the hell out of here, the better. I thought I had more time, but after the way Dad acted just a bit ago, I realize I was foolish to ever think anything was in my favor, especially time.

His cruelty isn’t often pointed at me, but when it is, it always ends badly.

Calling the police won’t help since they’re all deep in his pockets. Reaching out to people like Noel or Sandra or even one of the drivers, like Trey, won’t work because they’re all completely intimidated by him and are always doing their best to impress him.

Money talks.

Dad has endless piles of it.

I’m at a complete disadvantage here.

Lifting my chin, I stride out of my bedroom, hoping for an air of self-confidence. All depressing thoughts of my future are shoved into the corners of my mind when I am mentally prepared to deal with them. I’ll be the polite, demure heiress Dad wants me to be, and make my way through this dinner without any further damage.

I can do this.

Following the sound of the voices, I walk into the dining room where both my father and a man in a fitted suit stand chatting amicably. Funny how only moments ago, Dad was in my bedroom, his anger washing over me like a tsunami. Now, he’s seemingly normal, putting on his pleasant show for our guest.

Clearing my throat, I alert my father to my presence. Both men turn to regard me. Dad’s features are tight but he’s wearing his business smile reserved for boardroom deals. The man beside him, despite my not wanting to look at him, draws my attention anyway.