Page 47 of Wicked Devotions

She nods as she blinks away tears she won’t let fall.

“Did Banks know?” The question is laced with an angry growl.

“No, I never told him. And he has never seen me exposed. No one really has. Not like you have now.”

“And Cyrus.”

She shakes her head. “I wore a shirt.”

“He saw them when he woke up.”

Surprise flickers in her eyes. “So he told you?”

“I walked into the gym to find himbloody from going at the bag for fuck knows how long without tape or gloves on his hands. He told me why he was pissed.”

“At me?”

“At your piece of shit father.” I grab her shirt and pull it down for her. “He has his own history with trauma and abuse. I think seeing you set him off.”

She nods and walks over to the window. “I don’t want people to see them. I know that what he did was wrong, but he’d tell me why I deserved the punishment.” She pulls the gauzy curtains to the side, letting the setting sun illuminate her with warm light. “I hate thinking and talking about it.”

“Nothing you did warranted abuse.” I cross the room to stand beside her, lifting her chin with my fingers until her eyes lock with mine. “Tell me you know that.”

Her eyes look molten in the golden rays shining softly over us, amber swirling with gold and olive flecks. “I do.”

My gaze moves from her eyes down to her pink lips. She angles her body, so we’re in the perfect position for me to take what I want. To finally know what those lips would feel like against mine. Her eyes flutter closed as I move closer to her. Just as my lips brush against hers, her phone rings.

She jumps and takes a step back, the moment broken. “I better get that.” She steps around me and answers the phone.

I don’t stick around to find out who she’s talking to. Instead, I’m on a mission to find my father and see if he knows about the abuse. If Annabelle knew and didn’t stop Scott, there will be hell to pay. I check both of their bedrooms upstairs but don’t see anyone, so I take the front staircase down to the main level. Neither of them are in the kitchen or living room. I know they wouldn’t be in the game room, so that leaves Dad’s office or the formal living room.

It’s in Dad’s office where I find them. I almost turn right back around out of sheer shock. Dad has Annabelle pressed against the bookcase with his hand around her throat while they kiss. They’re so in their moment that it’s not until I clear my throat that they break apart.

Dad drops his hand immediately, and Annabelle looks at me like a deer in headlights. She turns bright red and side steps out from between my father and the shelves. I give her the courtesy of not staring as she walks past me.

“Mixing business with pleasure, I see,” I say assoon as I hear the door click behind me. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“What do you need?” He walks over to his bar cart and pours himself a couple fingers of whiskey.

“Did you know that Scott burnt Harper with cigarettes?”

Dad spins. “Come again?”

“Harper’s sides and abdomen are covered in dozens of cigarette burn scars.”

“I had no idea. There was no record of physical abuse toward Harper in any of the research I got before approaching Annabelle.”

“Did he do anything like that to her?”

My dad’s eyes darken. “The abuse she suffered was of a different nature.”

“And she’s never mentioned anything about it to you? About Harper?”

“No. She shielded Harper as best she could. At least she thought she did.” He pours me a glass and hands it to me.

“What are we going to do about it?”

“I’m working on it.” He drinks the whiskey in two gulps, wincing at the burn when he sets his empty glass now. “But he deserves much worse than anything I can do.”

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