Sweet Retribution (Rydeville High Elite #3)(62)

“Charles.” Father approaches, tapping him on the shoulder. “If you’ll excuse us.” He extends his hand to me, and I almost puke my dinner up all over myself.

Charlie drags a hand through his hair, slanting alarmed eyes at me. I know he wants to tell him to fuck off, but he can’t.

A father asking his daughter to dance at her wedding party is not unusual.

Unless your father is a fucking psychopath named Michael Hearst.

Then anyone would understand wanting to run for the hills and hide.

But we don’t have options here.

“Some time this century—if you don’t mind,” the bastard drawls, barely concealing his annoyance. Patience has never been his strong suit.

I stretch up to kiss Charlie, discreetly pressing the communication chip to activate it. “Interrupt us after one dance.”

He nods. “Be careful.”

I walk ahead of my father, out to the edge of the dance floor, where we are in full view. But he grabs my wrist, subtly twisting it as he guides me through the middle of the crowd and over to the other side, where it’s darker and less packed. He nods at some man as we pass, and a shiver works its way through me with the way he’s leering at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Chad steering some girl out onto the dance floor beside us. My heart rate calms a smidgeon. But only a smidgeon.

Father yanks me in close, holding one of my hands up while placing his other hand way too low on my back. I’m forced to loosely hold onto his waist, and touching him, even over his clothes, breaks me out in hives.

We dance awkwardly for a few beats. It seems dancing, as well as sports, is not in his repertoire. He stands on my toes, several times, but I know better than to complain. Little beads of sweat roll down my back the longer we dance, and he makes no attempt to strike up a conversation. His eyes pierce mine before dropping to my cleavage. Bile swims up my throat as he looks down the front of my dress, and I curse myself for not getting the neckline adjusted. The hand on my back edges lower, and my heart is banging against my rib cage in fear.

My eyes dart to Chad’s, and his dark frown tells me he notices.

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re playing tonight,” the bastard says, finally speaking, “but you aren’t fooling me with this charade.”

An icy cold chill sweeps over my body. “I don’t know what you’re implying.” Forcing my mounting terror aside, I look him dead in the eye. At least he’s looking at my face now.

“Do not play this game because it will only make things worse for him.”

Fear has my heart in a vise grip, and I can barely breathe.

“I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me,” he continues.

“I haven’t disobeyed you,” I blurt, acting confused. “Charlie told me you want me to accept this lifestyle, and he told me to adapt so you’d see I’m embracing it,” I lie. “Why else do you think I planned all this?” My brows knit together. “I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong.”

He stares at me so long I wonder if he’s lost the ability to speak.

“Please, Father. Tell me what I’ve done wrong, and I’ll fix it.” I purposely glance around. “The party is a huge success. I don’t understand.” I’m praying my acting skills are holding up because he’s been stewing all night, and this won’t end well for me if I can’t convince him this is me trying to toe the line. “I’m behaving at school. I’m looking after Charlie’s mom and sister, and I’m being a good wife. What else do you want me to do?”

His hand moves around my waist, along my hip, and down to the top of my thigh. My breath stutters in my throat, and acid churns in my stomach.

“I’ve always believed Drew was my only option. That you were weak, just like your mother,” he spits out, and I want to snatch my knife and bury it deep in his cold heart.

I seriously contemplate it.

I’m close enough I could do it.

But there are too many witnesses, and I know he has cameras in some parts of this room, so it’s too fucking risky.

I’m not going to prison for him.

And I want him to rot in a jail cell. Death is too easy.

That thought helps calm me down.

His hand moves lower, and he tugs up my skirt, sliding his hand under the slit and onto my bare flesh. My stomach dips to my toes, and nausea travels up my throat.

“But I think I made a grave mistake.” His hand inches higher, and I drop my arm, grabbing hold of his wrist and digging my nails in. It’s a risky move. One that will ensure I’m punished. But I’m fucked if he’s going to move his hand any higher.

He’s not touching me there.

And I can’t have him finding my weapons.

“You have more balls than your brother, and I see a lot of myself in you,” he continues, leering at me.

I want to scream that I’m nothing like him, but I’ve still got a role to play.

And where the fuck is Charlie? Because this is longer than one dance.

He pushes against my bare thigh, and I hold onto his wrist with a firmer grip, ready to inflict pain with my talons if I need to. In my periphery, I see Chad preparing to make a move, and I glare at him, warning him to stay back. I do not want him mixed up in this. So far, he’s a friend from school. The offspring of a well-respected inner circle member and that’s it. I don’t want him on Father’s radar, so he needs to protect me from the shadows.