Curran’s brothers Killian and Finn are well known in the mixed martial arts circuit, but that won’t impress someone like my father. “No,” I answer, quietly.
His face twists, in that same way it did the last time he beat me and called me worthless. “You’re such a fool,” he tells me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, the blood coursing through my veins pulsing hard against my ears. I should be used to his cruelty. But my father’s words never fail to claw at my soul.
He circles me, like I’m his prey, probably because I am. After all, he’s spent years making me so. “The future king well within your grasp, Contessa, and you choose to bed the court jester, simply because he makes you laugh.” He walks away then, speaking with each controlled step. “Consider your last semester of law school unpaid—and consider it a charitable punishment. I tire of your incompetence.”
I startle when the door slams shut behind him, the sudden movement causing the room to spin and nausea to engulf me. I race into my bedroom and into the bathroom, throwing the lid to the toilet open as I fall into an awkward crouch.
I’m sure I’m going to be sick, the pain crawling from my stomach and to my throat burning like liquid fire. But despite the agony, I can’t escape my father’s judgment or his words.
It doesn’t matter how hard I’ve worked, or what I’ve achieved. To him, I’m nothing more than a drunken slut, far too inept to ever evolve into more.
The pain increases as his cruelty consumes me. I don’t want to be so weak. But when it comes to my father, I always have been.
Tears drip from my chin. How is it possible for him to defeat me with only words? Wasn’t he supposed to be the first man to love me?
The pain takes its time to dissolve until I’m finally able to stand and wash my hands. Slowly I walk out to my bedroom and lower myself to the edge of the bed. I glance down, realizing for the first time how hard I’m trembling.
I stare at my shaking hands. This time, misery doesn’t cause my tears. But hate does.
I hate my father.
It should hurt to think it, and I should feel some guilt. Yet all I feel is numb.
There are women who worship their fathers. Women who seek their advice. Women who easily express affection to the men who gave them life.
I was forced to worship.
I was told to idolize.
I sought advice to pacify him.
And I was expected to show affection.
But I never meant any of it.
One memory. I rack my mind for one moment that would hint at a true gesture of love or kindness. I find nothing.
I hate him. But I realize then that perhaps he hates me, too.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, only that it’s long enough for my trembling to subside and for darkness to claim the room. I finally stand and return to the bathroom, stopping short when I see my reflection.
My mouth falls open. Am I really this pale, or is this how my interactions with my father leave me—an apparition of what I could be?
I startle again when someone knocks, two beats followed by one, then two.
Curran has arrived.
Chapter 23
Tess
I rush to open my cosmetics drawer when Curran knocks again. “Baby, you in there?”
I pass some blush powder over my cheeks. “I’m coming. I’m in the bathroom.” My fingers make quick work of fluffing my hair and adjusting my glasses before I all but run to open the door.
Curran crosses the threshold with a bag of groceries tucked under his arm. His smile isn’t forced. Not like mine. “Hey, angel face.”
“Hey, cop.”
As soon as I lock the door, he pulls me into a one-arm hug and kisses me, but when he pulls back, he’s frowning. “You okay?”
I step back, glancing around nervously. “Yes. Just tired. Long day of reading and research.”