He parks in front of the house as the security car trailing us continues on to the large garage. Charlie kills the engine and turns to face me. “You’re pissed. I get it. But this was the only way to keep him alive.”
“Don’t do that,” I hiss. “Don’t pretend like you’ve done this for him.”
“I’m not pretending,” he deadpans. “I’ve done this for you.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, and, for reasons I don’t fully understand, he’s important to you.” He shrugs, appearing indifferent, but his muscles are corded into knots and his jaw clenches. “For now.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said back there?”
“I heard you, but people change. Feelings change. And I know you have feelings for me.”
“Not the feelings you’re suggesting.” I level him with an earnest look. “I don’t love you, Charlie. I love Kaiden. Being kept away from him won’t change that.”
“Well, I guess you must fake it then,” he barks. “Because your life and his life depend on your father buying into our engagement.” He sighs, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Look, I’m not stupid. I know you love one another. But there is no scenario where your father will ever permit it.” He takes my hand, rubbing circles on my skin with his thumb. “He approves of me, and I can take care of you. I’ll give you a good life, and I’ll treat you the way you deserve. In time, you’ll learn to love me.”
He is fucking delusional, but I won’t continue arguing the point. Because a lot of what he has said is true. Kai’s survival means I must be with Charlie. At least until we figure out a way out of this mess. If Charlie wants me to buy into his fantasy, and it’s the best way of safeguarding Kai’s life, then I’ll do it.
“Fine.”
He arches a brow. “Fine?”
“But I’m only doing this for Kai,” I say before getting out of the car.
He comes up behind me, placing his hand on my lower back. I shuck out of his reach, stabbing him with a cautionary look. “I will do what I have to in public, but no touching unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
He raises his palms in a conciliatory gesture. “Whatever you say.” His tone is affable, but I don’t miss the glimmer of determination shining in his eyes.
I inwardly curse as I step foot into my house for the first time in weeks.
Because I’ve just realized I’m in the middle of another battle.
One for my heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I trust you’ve come to your senses, Abigail?” the bastard says as we enter the formal living room over on the west wing of the house.
Charlie slides his arm around my waist, and I lean into him as we walk across the patterned rug toward the blazing fire. On the outside, Charlie is the epitome of cool, calm, and collected, but his body is wired tight, every muscle straining in anticipation, and danger radiates from him with every step we take toward my father.
I’ve sensed this about him before—this lethal calm that hides the feral beast caged within.
Provided it’s used in my favor, I’ve zero issue with him unleashing it. However, I’m not some naïve little princess. I know his idea of acting in my best interests isn’t the same interpretation I’d apply. Charlie has the potential to be a formidable enemy, and if I don’t play the game the right way, that’s exactly what he’ll end up being.
“You say that like I wanted to get kidnapped?” I coolly reply while taking a seat beside Charlie on the hard leather couch across from my father.
He’s sitting comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, with the prerequisite whiskey in hand. “Don’t be facetious.” He sips his drink, eyeing me over the rim of the glass. “We both know you loved being back with that delinquent.”
“If he’s a delinquent, it’s your fault for ripping his life apart,” I snap, letting anger get the better of me. Charlie squeezes my side, but I ignore him. “You know, by murdering his mother, stealing everything from his father, and leaving them to rot in poverty planning their vengeance.”
The glass smashes to the ground, shattering into tiny shards as he storms toward me, grabbing my chin and stretching my neck up painfully. “You seem to have forgotten your place, daughter, and it’s time I reminded you.” He fists a hand in my sweater, yanking me to my feet. His eyes roam over me in disgust. “You look like a common peasant.”
“Mr. Hearst.” Charlie stands.
“Be very careful with the words you say next, Charles,” the bastard warns.
I daren’t look at Charlie, so I can’t tell what expression is on his face when he says, “She’s my fiancée. I’ll be the one to discipline her.”
What the actual fuck? I thought he’d try to stop him, but no, he’s going along with it. A red layer coats my eyes, and anger burns the back of my throat, but I say nothing, show nothing, keeping a neutral expression on my face even though I want to murder both men.
Charlie’s statement calms him down, somewhat. “Trouble?” he asks, momentarily distracted by Charlie’s swollen nose.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he coolly replies.
Father shoves me at my fiancé, straightening his shirt and tie, before a familiar sneer creeps across his ugly mouth. Panic bubbles up my throat. “Let’s see if I’ve made the right choice.” He levels Charles with a menacing look.
I work hard to keep my face neutral because I refuse to show any fear in front of him. Instead, I cling to my hatred, using it to bolster my determination to take him down, no matter the cost.
He tore my babies from my body without permission. Inserted these hideous breast implants knowing I didn’t want them. And now he’s blackmailing me into another arranged marriage.
He doesn’t get to keep doing this shit to me.
He will pay.
I repeat that mantra over and over in my mind, using it to anesthetize me from what’s about to happen.
“Twenty slaps on her bare ass. Right here. Right now.”
I seethe underneath my skin as Charlie turns me in his arms and demands, “Jeans off now.” His face is a mask of cold indifference, and I can’t tell if it’s an act or not.
Embracing my anger and my hatred, I remove my jeans, carefully setting them aside and standing with my chin up, daring him to do his worst. Charlie sits back down on the couch, patting his lap.
“Panties off,” my father instructs, and I know he gets off on this sick shit.
I hook my thumbs in the top of my panties, ready to remove them, when Charlie grabs my hips, pulling me across his lap, facedown. When I’m stretched out, with my face pressed into the arm of the couch and my ass slightly tilted, he removes my panties, pushing them down my legs to my ankles.
An involuntary cry rips from my mouth as stinging pain lances across my ass with the first slap. I bite down hard on my lip as Charlie wastes no time doling out my punishment, slapping my ass in quick succession. I want to believe he’s doing this fast, to get it over and done with, rather than he’s doing this deliberately, because it hurts more when there’s no time to recover in between, but honestly, the jury is out.