Sweet Retribution (Rydeville High Elite #3)(57)

“Do I want to know?”

My lips tip up. “The less you know, the better.”





The run up to the wedding party flies by, because I’m crazy busy organizing it with the wedding planner I hired, supervising Chad and the team as they build dossiers on our targets, sneaking time with Kai behind Charlie’s back, attending school and ballet classes, hanging out with Shandra, bonding with Lillian, and worrying about Elizabeth, who has become a virtual recluse. Charlie is going out of his mind, and it’s cruel to say it, but at least it keeps him distracted.

I nearly puked when I opened his gift to discover three flimsy silk and lace nightgowns, and my stomach roiled at his subtle way of trying to move our relationship forward. I suppose I should consider myself lucky it wasn’t lingerie, because the thought of Charlie shopping for bras and panties for me breaks me out in a cold sweat.

But it’s getting harder and harder to hold him off. I’m still playing the betrayed wife card, but I can only get away with that for so long.

It’s the night of the party, and I’m seriously on edge. Because there’s a lot riding on tonight. And I fucking hate being back in this mausoleum. Hate being back in my childhood bedroom where the memories are more bad than good, and I detest being back under his roof. At least I’m not staying the night although it’s of little consolation, because I’m also scared of what Charlie expects when we get home after the party.

He’s been dropping hints about tonight being our proper wedding, and I know what he’s implying. The only way I can think of getting out of it is to drug him again, and it’s most likely what I’ll end up doing.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, happy I at least appear composed on the outside. All eyes will be on me tonight, and I want to really give them something to stare at. My hair is in a classic chignon, and it’s the only part of my outfit that could be described as traditionally elegant. My scarlet lips match my black and red dress, and they give me a much-needed boost of confidence. The makeup artist gave me heavy smoky eyes rimmed in lashings of thick, black mascara. I have naturally long lashes, and they frame my eyes perfectly. None of those fake spider-web lashes for this girl.

I run my hands down over the black and red taffeta of my dress, smirking as I think of Father’s expression when he sees me. I’m sure he expects me to turn up in virginal white.

But fuck that.

I’m going into the lion’s den, and I need to show them I mean business.

Showing up like the virgin bride would only have them frothing at the mouth.

I’m not na?ve. I know what’s going to happen tonight.

Father is testing me.

And I fully expect to see doped-up girls in cages and men old enough to be their fathers abusing and debasing them.

I rub a hand along my stomach, fortifying it, because I can’t break tonight. Otherwise, arriving like this has all been for nothing.

I need to show up there like a boss. To show them I belong in this world. But not as a puppet on a string.

I’m the daughter of a founding member, and I know that gets me automatic special privileges.

But I know it doesn’t protect me from evil.

There are men gunning for my father. Men he doesn’t know the identity of, so it’s quite likely some of them will be in that room.

None of them will think twice about using me to get to him.

Which is why I have my small handgun strapped to my left thigh and a pen knife strapped to my right one.

If any of those men dare come at me, I will fight back. I’m quick on my feet, thanks to years of ballet and self-defense lessons, and no one is putting their hands on me tonight. I don’t care about the consequences.

The bastard will be furious.

He’ll want to discipline me.

And Charlie might be willing to go there again.

But it will be worth it.

To claim this one small victory

A rap on the door rouses me from my inner monologue. “Come in, Drew.” I know it’s my brother because he’s escorting me to the dungeon. This isn’t a traditional wedding ceremony because we’ve already said our vows. This is just the celebration part although I use that word in extremely loose terms, because there is zero to celebrate.

Still, we have roles to play.

Drew will escort me to Charlie in the dungeon, and we will then be announced into the room.

The party kicked off an hour ago, and everyone should be in attendance by now. My black, red, and gold gothic-themed décor downstairs might have already given the game away, but I guess I’m about to find out.

Drew sucks in a sharp breath. “Abby,” he whispers, as I turn around to face him.

I jut my leg out, planting my hands on my hips as I strike a pose. The slit in my dress runs to just above my knee, so it’s not indecent, and it hides the weapons I’m concealing, yet it gives me easy access to them too. The bottom half of my dress is made up of layers and layers of black and red taffeta, with subtle applique accents. It swishes around my legs as I sway my hips, grinning at my brother. His eyes drop to the wide blood-red sash tied at my waist, drifting quickly over the fitted black corset-style top with the slightly plunging neckline that showcases the hideous melons on my chest.

If I’m regretting anything, it’s that I didn’t get the neckline moved up higher. The point of this is not to have the men tripping over themselves but to demonstrate I’m a force to be reckoned with and not one to be pushed around so easily.