Several other men raced forward and absolute mayhem broke out. Shoulders were shoved, voices raised, accusations were hurled, and reputations were burned to ash, all due to a father’s irrational and misplaced concern.
“Enough!” Rhett barked and the room silenced. A swipe of his thumb over his throbbing lip revealed a smear of blood. “This is insane!”
Anthony Marcelli charged forward, but another guest caught his shoulder. He squared off with Rhett, until his glare lifted to something beyond the crowd.
Rhett turned, following his gaze to the top of the stairs and his heart sank when he saw Skylar standing there in her pajamas, a look of confused horror on her face.
“Daddy?”
She looked like a little girl, her hair parted in pigtails and her body dressed in pajamas with snowflakes on them. Jesus, this looked terrible.
The guests followed the drama like a tennis match and gaped at her. He wanted to race up the steps and cover her from their view, protect her from their judgement. Who were they to look at her? They didn’t know her. They didn’t know him.
“Christ,” her uncle cursed.
“Skylar, get in the car. We’re going home,” her father ordered.
She frowned. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
“We can discuss it later—”
“Tell me now.” Her confused stare fell on him. “Rhett?”
He hated agreeing with a man who just burst into his home and attacked him, but in this situation, he had no choice. Constituents stared at him with cold accusation in their narrowing eyes.
Short of showing them her birth certificate and driver’s license, there would be no way out of this unscathed. He could physically feel his ratings dropping, but his greatest concern was protecting Skylar. She didn’t deserve this sort of exploitation.
The fastest way to protect her from their unfair judgement was to get her out of there and someplace safe. He looked up at her, doing his best to help her read the apology in his eyes. “I think it’s best if you go with your father for now, sweetheart.” Several guests gasped at the endearment and he snapped. “For the love of God, she’s an adult woman!” He turned to Erin and snapped, “Party’s over. See that everyone finds their way out.”
He marched up the stairs, only to pause when he reached the step where Skylar waited. He looked at her, tears of humiliation welling in her eyes and regret spilling from his heart.
“You’re welcome to stay, but I think it’s best if you go.”
She glanced at her father, still detained by the door. Her humiliation was palpable, and he felt responsible.
He knew it was only a matter of time before she left him. And yet, he still foolishly hoped their time might last.
“I’m sorry, Skylar. Go with him.” He continued to his room and slammed the door.
18
One Week until Christmas
* * *
“When’s Skylar coming back?” Addison asked, the same bored expression on her face that had been there since the day after the party.
“I don’t know.”
“I miss her.”
Rhett pushed out a breath that did nothing to ease the tension in his shoulders. “So do I.”
It had been three days, and she hadn’t returned a single one of his texts or calls. All her belongings were still at the house, and he assumed she’d have to come back for at least her laptop, as her final was this week, but she hadn’t been by.
The mansion had been put back to rights, but everything felt wrong. The tree no longer appeared decorated with amateur hands, the rooms smelled of disinfectant and chemical furniture polish instead of fresh baked goods, and everything was quiet—no Christmas carols, no laughter, no silly songs about cleaning up or washing hands. And where the hell were Addison’s paper snowflakes and craft projects. The walls were once again naked.
He’d been trapped in the house, hiding from the rumor mill, and nursing a nasty black eye and swollen lip. Seriously, who punched people at this age?
He glanced at his daughter and had his answer—fathers trying to protect their little girls.
He wasn’t sure how anyone found out about him and Skylar, but what irked him more was the fact that he hadn’t consciously meant to keep their relationship a secret for any reason other than his desire for privacy. Yes, she was younger, but she was of legal age and an adult. He’d done nothing wrong!
But the more he thought back over their time together, the more things came into view. He recalled their first night together and all the things he didn’t want to see. The way her body felt. The innocent way she looked at him. Her notable shyness.
The longer he thought about her inexperience, the more he felt like an absolute monster.
Her father was right to hit him.
He hated thinking he’d caused her any kind of pain. As someone in the public eye, he was emotionally prepared for the backlash of gossip. No one was universally accepted by all. But he never wanted the criticism he faced on a daily basis to touch those he cared about.