Once again, my gaze is drawn to Kingsley. His expression is set in hard lines and his jaw is clenched. Regret rushes through me, threatening to swallow me whole. No matter what I say, he won’t believe me.
“Is that really what you think?” The dark chuckle that slides from Keaton’s lips has alarm bells ringing in my head. “Your whore daughter has been spreading her legs for a month now.” His eyes glint triumphantly. “Before the contract was ever struck.”
The high color that fills Dad’s face drains away before slamming back into his cheeks. “You’re lying!”
“What? You don’t believe me?” Keaton smiles before thrusting a hand in my direction. “Just ask her. I’m sure Summer would be delighted to give you all the juicy details.”
Heat radiates from my face as Dad swings toward me with disbelieving eyes. I take a hasty step in retreat as he skewers me in place. I’m like a butterfly pinned to a Styrofoam board. All I want to do is sink into the floorboards and escape the oppressiveness that fills the paneled room.
“Summer?” he whispers, pausing for a beat as his gaze searches mine. “Tell me it’s not true.”
Humiliation burns through me as I remain silent. I don’t think my father has ever looked at me with so much disdain.
“Come now, my dear, don’t be shy. Tell your father how my son has spent the last month sleeping in your bed.” When there’s a pause, I send up a little prayer that Keaton won’t say anything more. “So, let me get this straight,” he drawls, “you’ve been telling your parents that you’re against this arrangement when in actuality, you’ve been begging Kingsley to fuck you?”
The air gets sucked from my lungs until there is nothing left.
Keaton grins when my eyes pop wide. “Perhaps your parents didn’t realize what you two were up to, but I’ve made it my business to know where my son sticks his dick.”
Throughout his father’s tirade, Kingsley remains stoically silent. His expression devoid of emotion. Perhaps I made a mistake in not being truthful with him, but I was always honest about my feelings. My guilt lies in not wanting to be bartered away like property. As I continue to stare, I can’t help but wonder if he ever felt anything or if it was nothing more than a game. Maybe I’m the one who got played after all.
“Answer the question, Summer,” Dad chokes out, snapping me from my thoughts.
I yank my gaze from Kingsley, barely able to meet Dad’s shocked one. This isn’t the way I imagined him finding out about my relationship. I had assumed Mom clued him in as to what she walked in on Sunday morning. From his stunned expression, that isn’t the case.
“Have you been sleeping with him?” he barks again.
The growing silence turns deafening. The sound of my own breathing fills my ears until it’s like the roar of the ocean crashing onto rocks. I remind myself that I’m eighteen years old. My guess is that this has more to do with who I had sex with rather than the actual deed itself. “Yes, I have.”
Color rushes into Dad’s cheeks. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. It seems at odds with the coolness of the room. He presses his lips together and jerks his gaze from mine.
“Dad,” I whisper brokenly, hating that I’ve disappointed him.
When I take a hesitant step in his direction, he holds up a hand and staggers in retreat as if he doesn’t want me any closer. “No.”
“Not quite the vestal virgin you purported her to be, huh?” Keaton snickers, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Or does your disgust lie in the fact that it was a Rothchild who defiled her?”
Oh God…
Why can’t he shut the hell up?
Hasn’t he caused enough damage for one day?
I glance at Kingsley, wishing he would do something about his father, but his face remains inscrutable. I’m tempted to close the distance between us and smack him. Or pound my fists against his chest. Anything to solicit a reaction. How can he stand there and allow Keaton to say such vile things about me?
Unless it really was all a game.
The thought is enough to gut me.
My father wedges two fingers beneath the collar of his starched blue dress shirt, attempting to pull it away from his throat. When that doesn’t work, he loosens the top two buttons with shaking fingers. His breathing becomes labored as he paces the confined space like a caged animal before dragging a hand through his short, silvered hair.
“Dad, please…”
Why is Keaton Rothchild so intent on destroying our family?
I understand what the Hawthornes stole from them. But we, personally, weren’t the ones to do it. We’re innocent in all this.
In an effort to de-escalate the situation, I take a tentative step toward Dad and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should sit down for a moment.”