Fuck. Heat floods my face, and I put my hands on his chest, pushing him back. "Screw you, Caulter."
Laughing, he sweeps away the lock of sandy-colored hair that falls briefly over his forehead. "Nah, Harvard," he said. "You already did that. And as I recall, it involved a lot of you moaning...Oh God, right there, Oh God, Caulter, Caulter..." He mimics me, his tone high-pitched and breathy, the sound of his voice echoing through my father's office, amplified in the enclosed space.
What happens next is out of character. I don't even think about it before I do it. I just step forward and slap Caulter right across the side of his face, my palm landing against his cheek with a crack that reverberates through the room. I'm not sure who's more startled, him or me -- and I withdraw my hand like I just touched an electric outlet, backing away from him in horror.
I've never done something like that in my entire life. I can't believe I lost control. “I --” I begin. “I -- you’re being...a total asshole about this!”
Caulter brings his hand to his cheek and raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he says. “It’s me who's being a total asshole.”
“Did you know about our parents getting married, before?” I ask again.
“What, before you texted me and begged me to give you some of this?” He grabs his crotch.
“I didn’t exactly have to beg,” I say, my teeth clenched. “I don’t think anyone has to twist your arm to get the dick you dole out like it's candy.”
"You sure didn't have a problem sucking on it like it was made of fucking sugar," he says.
I can feel heat rise to my cheeks. "That is not how I sucked your --"
"What, Harvard?" he asks. "Are you going to tell me you don't remember how you wrapped those sweet little lips around my cock like it was the best thing you ever tasted?"
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." But my face is flushed, and I think I might be short of breath at the thought of Caulter's cock against my lips. No, I can't think about it. "It was temporary insanity. What happened between us never happened.”
“Don’t worry, Princess,” he says. “Our dirty little secret is safe with me. It’s already forgotten. You weren’t that memorable anyway.”
I bristle at his words. Not that memorable? I'm about to give Caulter a real piece of my mind when the door swings open behind him. He jumps out of the way, and for a moment my father stands in the doorway with Ella behind him, his brow wrinkled but just barely. My father is the consummate politician, unflappable. He’s the master of non-expression. If you didn't know him, you wouldn't know that the tiny wrinkle line that creases his forehead is a sign of irritation. My heart stops and I wonder if he knows, if it's written on me like some kind of badge of dishonor-- I fucked Caulter Sterling.
"Ah," my father says. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared to."
"The news is a lot to take in, I'm sure," Ella says, her voice gentle. She places her hand on my father's arm. "I'm sure the two of you probably want some time without the parental units around."
Caulter laughs, the sound bitter. "Yeah, right," he says. "I've had plenty of time with Little Miss Perfect here." He edges between my father and Ella, and they let him pass through the doorway, but Ella's eyes are wide.
"Caulter!" she says. "Don't be rude."
"Rude?" He's walking away, his back toward us. "That's fucking rich from two people who just sprung a whole marriage on their daughter, don't you think?"
Did he just say that they sprung a whole marriage on me? Like he knew about it before now?
The crease in my father's forehead deepens. "I won't tolerate -- "
Oh shit. I don't think my father fully appreciates what he's gotten himself into with Caulter. He thinks any issue can be cured with a good dose of discipline and some military-style physical training. If this conversation were happening with a five-years-younger Caulter, my father would have him outside running sprints and doing pushups until he couldn't hold himself up anymore. As it is, Caulter is an adult. I don't know if my father has a plan here.
Caulter stops. "Tolerate? Let's get something straight here. If you want to parade your own kid around in front of the cameras like she's some kind of trophy Stepford child, that's between you and her. But me? You don't get to walk into my life and expect me to pretend we're all some big happy family."
I hold my breath, waiting for my father's reaction. His temper rarely flares, but when it does, it's nuclear. Despite my complete and utter distaste for who Caulter is, I can't help but feel a twinge of smug satisfaction, hearing him talk to my father like that. No one talks to my father like that. Definitely not me. It almost feels like Caulter is taking up for me, even though I know he's not.