Page 39 of Tender Temptation

“No. Of course not.” I dig my nails into my thigh. “You can’t control me forever. I’m an adult. Do not treat me like a child.”

“I’ll be the judge of how to treat you as long as you’re living under my roof.” His bitter laugh is harsh. Cruel. “You’re treated like a child because you’re acting like a child. And I can and will take back control. For your own good.”

It’s no use. He doesn’t understand and doesn’t care about what I want or need. He never has. All he cares about is keeping me under histhumb.

“I’ve told you I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” My words are hollow because I feel hollow.

“But youdid.“ He punches his fist. “For the next five weeks, you’re coming to work with me every day. You’re not leaving the house without my permission. And, I’ll have someone watching you 24/7 at Stanford. You cannot be trusted.”

“What?” Panic permeates every pore. I whirl around to see if he’s serious. “No. You wouldn’t go that far.”

He picks up the old-schoolWall Street Journalnewspaper from the seat. “You bet your fucking ass I will. You’ll thank me one day.”

“I’ll never thank you for this.” I can’t stop the tears this time. “You’re ruining my life. Taking away everything that matters to me.”

He glares at me, his expression hard. “Why don’t you tell mewhothe guy is. What kid had the audacity to touch my little girl? Defile her innocence. You’re so naïve. You’re being used. .”

“How can you jump to such a crass conclusion? And even if it were true—which it isn’t—if you’d let me live my own life, I wouldn’t be so fucking naïve.” My hands clench into fists. “You’d trust me.”

“Oh, that’s rich. I gave you my trust and you pissed all over it.” He points at me. “Tell me, did you take the pregnancy test Ileft for you?”

I stare at him, unable to comprehend the invasion of my privacy. Has our relationship come to this? “You’re unbelievable. Do you hear yourself?”

He glowers at me but doesn’t utter a word. I know this tactic, he’s taught me all of his negotiation skills. Stay mute until the enemy breaks. The silence between us stretches, a chasm which is rapidly becoming too wide to bridge.

“Dad,please.” I finally crack, no match for his years of honed experience. “You can’t keep me in a cage. I deserve to live my own life out from under your thumb. To make my own mistakes.”

“You’ve made enough mistakes in seven weeks to last a lifetime.” He lowers his reading glasses to peer at me through slitted eyes. “I know you better than you know yourself. You might as well settle in, the restrictions are the consequences of your own actions.”

“Know me?” I dab the tears from my cheeks. “You’veneverknown me. You don’t evenseeme. You see Forrest. You’re trying to protect a fuckingghost.”

My cruel words hang in the air, a sharp but painful truth. I hate myself for sinking to my father’s level, but I swear I see a flicker of something. Pain. Regret. Who knows, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. My dad’s face hardens, and he looks away.

Lying back against the seat, I squeeze my eyes shut. I need Cillian. I have to find a way back to him. To the beautiful life we were creating. He’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. Our relationship is the only thing I care about. God, the thought of him worrying about me. Wondering where I am. It rips my heart out.

He’ll probably never be able to find me, I realize. He might know the house is in Medina but he doesn’t know my real name. I destroyed my phone so my dad couldn’t track our conversations. What must he think? I disappeared. Does he think I didn’t care enough to say goodbye?

God, maybe my dad has me pegged. I’m immature. Selfish. Impulsive.

A liar.

Before this summer, I’d never been untruthful, at least not deliberately. In the past few weeks, I’ve lied to everyone who’s important in my life. My lies are the reason I’m living in this hellish reality of isolation, heartbreak and emotional abuse.

No matter what my reasoning, what I did was wrong.

The car pulls up to the headquarters of Bright Shipping, a well-worn building my grandfather built seventy years ago. I’ve loved coming here from the time I was a girl. Today hits different. I don’t want to be trapped anymore. Controlled.Monitored.

Dread settles in my stomach.

Then, I make a silent vow to myself. I’m breaking free from my father’s control. I have to, even if it means giving up everything I’ve ever known.

My father turns to me. “This is an important meeting. I expect you to behave like a professional in there, Ivy. It’s time to table this immature bullshit. No more trouble.”

I nod numbly, unable to find the words to argue. What’s the point? Regardless of the situation I’ve put myself in, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our family business. My father strides ahead, his presence commanding respect and attention from the hustling, bustling employees. I trail behind, feeling small and insignificant in the shadow of his power.

The elevator up to the top floor is filled with cold, silent tension. Once again, I follow Dad toward his office. Before we step inside, he turns to me. “The contractor we choose today will be responsible for transforming this space into a modern, green technology port, increasing our profits by thirty percent. I need you to be focused. I want your opinion on this company.”

It’s ironic how much he trusts my business acumen but not anything relating to my own life choices.

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