I involuntarily bite my lower lip, as my own eyes devour the hot as fuck sight in front of me that is Barrett Belmont in a suit. A fancy-ass suit that probably cost a fortune and is intended to be worn by businessmen stuck in offices all day. It looks anything but professional on Barrett. Yet, it suits him; it’s worn in such a way that would make anyone else look like a douche, but only makes Barrett look drool-worthy.
He flaunts the line of actually wearing a suit, with his top button undone and his tie loosened around his neck. The tail of his shirt is untucked on one side and slightly rumpled looking, like he just picked it up off the floor and put it on before he came out tonight. The sleeves of the shirt and jacket are rolled up to his elbows and he has paired the black suit with a pair of black and white designer sneakers.
Seeing that Barrett’s attention is elsewhere, Preston turns his head, following Barrett’s line of sight, and I am immediately ensnared as his penetrating gaze draws me in, the way it always does when our eyes meet.
The rest of the room begins to fall away, the music quieting to a soft melody in the background; and it’s just me and Preston. There is so much emotion in his eyes. So much anger and hurt that he is clinging to, in an attempt to drown out the pain and sadness which is bubbling underneath, threatening to spill over. If only he would let himself feel those feelings then perhaps he could move forward, let go of that carefully constructed restraint he has and let someone in, to care for him, love him.
“Sophie? Sophie! Where are you going?” My father interrupts, breaking the spell I was under as I look around in confusion, realising I’d taken several steps toward Preston, as though I was unconsciously trying to reach out and comfort him.
Glancing back, Preston is staring at me with a perplexed frown on his face, as unsure of what to make of our ‘moment’ as I am.
“Sophie!” My father hisses, annoyed at my defiance. “What do you think you are doing? You still need to meet the Belmonts.” He jeers, wrapping his meaty hand around my forearm and dragging me away from Preston and Barrett.
Seeing that I am not resisting him, he thankfully lets go of my arm, enabling me to create some distance between us as I trail him across the room towards Mr. and Mrs. Belmont.
“Steven,” My father practically purrs when we reach the couple, completely ignoring who I assume is Mrs. Belmont.
“Robert, lovely party this evening,” Mr. Belmont greets as he casts his gaze slowly over me, a look in his eyes not dissimilar to the one I just saw in Barrett’s. The heated look I get from Mr. Belmont, though, causes the complete opposite reaction in me. I struggle to keep the look of disgust off my face and the dress I’m wearing, that had made me feel sexy and confident, now makes me feel dirty.
“Steven, this is my daughter, Sophie. Sophie, this is Steven and Missy Belmont,” my father introduces. Mr. Belmont, the perv that he is, seizes the opportunity to lean in and kiss me on the cheek, ‘accidentally’ brushing his hand against the side of my boob and lingering longer than is socially acceptable. By the time he pulls back, I feel queasy, and in desperate need of a shower.
Glancing at my father, thinking the display of disrespect would have angered him, I find he isn’t even paying attention, instead running his hand down his shirt, ironing out non-existent creases. What the hell? I didn’t for one second expect him to stand up for me or anything, but to just stand there and ignore what is clearly happening? It doesn’t seem like something he would stand for.
Finally stepping away from me, enabling me to regain some of my personal space, Mr. Belmont starts engaging my father in conversation as though neither Mrs. Belmont or I are there.
With the two men ignoring our presence, I silently observe Mrs. Belmont. It is immediately clear why she didn’t speak up at her husband’s deplorable behavior. The woman looks like she is barely managing to stand upright, staring at a random point on the floor while she sways back and forth in her high heels and sips away on what I’m pretty sure is not her first, or even her fifth, glass of wine.
When she lifts her gaze up from the floor I can see that her eyes are glazed over and her pupils are dilated, indicating she’s been taking more than just alcohol tonight. Jeez, is that what happens to women who decide to stay here and become unhappy housewives? Is this the future Meaghan was bragging about in the café? I do not understand these people.
Poor Barrett having to live with these two. No wonder everything about him is superficial flirtiness. He likely has no idea how to make real connections with people, particularly women. I can’t imagine either of his parents gave him the time of day growing up. Are all the families in Crescentwood as broken and damaged as ours?
I zone back into the conversation between my father and Mr. Belmont, just in time to catch the tail end of what Mr. Belmont is saying.
“-very well behaved for someone so young.”
Tearing my eyes away from Mrs. Belmont so I can look at her husband, I catch him looking at me.
Wait, are they talking about me? As though I’m a well-trained pet? What the fuck?
“Mmm, she has her moments,” my father murmurs, not agreeing.
Laughing, Mr. Belmont replies, “Ah, you need a bit of fire every now and again, keeps things interesting.” His eyes land on the slit of my dress as his gaze once again turns heated.
I don’t know what the fuck they are saying right now but I can feel my skin crawling and the urge to run is riding me high.
Realising that I am listening to their conversation, my father quickly thanks Mr. Belmont for coming this evening and ushers me away from them. For once I don’t fight him. I am more than happy to get as far away from that sleazebag as possible.
“I have business to attend to. Go spend time with your friends.” He dismisses me, giving me a meaningful look before heading out of the ballroom. Looking around the room I realise that Mr. Donaghue is also missing. Needing a breather, and wanting to get as far away from Mr. Belmont as I can, I decide now is as good a time as any to do some spying.
Keeping a safe distance, I sneak slowly down the hall, sticking to the walls like glue in an effort to cling to the shadows and not be spotted. Following my father, I watch as he heads away from the ballroom and towards his office, quickly opening the door and stepping in when he arrives there.
Just before he closes the door, I hear him greet Mr. Donaghue, who must have already been in the room waiting for him. Knowing there is no reason for anyone else from the party to be on this side of the house, thus reducing my risk of being discovered here, I decide to stay and listen to what I can through the door.
Slowly, I sidle up to the door, and cautiously lean my ear against it, hoping that will be enough for me to make out whatever the two of them are discussing on the other side.
My heart is hammering in my chest causing blood to pound in my ears. If I get caught here, I’m dead, no two ways about it.
“My son,” Mr. Donaghue hisses out with such disdain you wouldn’t think he was discussing his only child, “is causing problems. I’ve handled it for now but I may need you to step in if things escalate. I can’t have him messing things up for me, now of all times.” I can just about make out what he is saying, the volume of his voice fluctuating as he presumably paces back and forth within the room.
“That’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle,” my father replies with nonchalance, not fazed by whatever will be required to ‘handle’ Preston.