Page 114 of Daddies' Little Spitfire

It gave her a lot of time to think things through. She had wished Daddy came with her to the bathroom. Maybe then nothing would have happened.

But she didn’t.

And she was going to live with that for the rest of her life. He had said he wanted to, but she shot it down. Why did she do that?

Because she wanted to be independent and show them that she was comfortable being in the shop. She didn’t want them to think of her as weak because she couldn’t walk to the bathroom by herself.

That backfired so badly.

Maybe that one time she should have put her pride to the side and let them come with her. It's too late now.

A knock sounded on the door, but Hedda didn’t react. She was exhausted and starting to feel defeated. There was no way out of her room unless the person unlocked it from the outside.

That was something new.

Before she left New York, it had been a regular door,where she could lock it from the inside. But Rogan changed it before she got there.

He knew she wouldn’t like this and yet he was still doing it. Did he really care about her?

“Dinner is ready. Come down and eat,” Rogan said.

Hedda didn’t respond. She didn’t have an appetite and she didn’t want to sit with Rogan. No doubt he would make comments about her being weak or how Papa and Daddy brainwashed her. She wasn’t up for that mentally.

The doorknob jiggled and she felt him pushing against the door. Too bad she was in the way for him to come in. Not that she wanted him in there.

She didn’t want to be near him right now. She didn’t want to have to do anything with him. He had uprooted her and been rude.

“Move out of the way,” Rogan said.

But Hedda didn’t do that. Even if she said anything, would he actually listen to her or hear what he wanted to actually hear? He wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying so she wasn’t going to waste her breath.

Rogan gave another push, this one much harder, and made her fall over. She continued to lay on the ground, not looking up at him as he walked into the door.

He didn’t deserve the respect that looking at him would imply.

“I’m doing what is best for you,” Rogan said. “I love you and I just want what's best for you. I have your best interest at the forefront of my mind.”

She would have laughed if it was any other situation, butit wasn’t. Her brother was telling her that he was doing this for her best interest.

Best interest, her ass.

He wasn't doing that. If he was, he would’ve asked her questions about how it was in Missouri. He would’ve investigated and made sure she was okay. He would’ve asked her if she wanted to be there.

But, he hadn’t done that.

He did none of it.

Hedda continued to lay and look at the carpet on the floor. It was pristine, like someone had spent hours cleaning it before she got here.

Someone probably did spend hours cleaning it. Rogan had maids who spent hours and hours cleaning things in the house. Everything had to be perfect and spotless. Anything less was unacceptable.

“The twins aren’t the best thing for you,” Rogan said.

“How do you know that?” she whispered, moving her head so she could look at him.

How could he possibly know that? Did he know they had been taking care of her? That they had treated her like a Princess but gave her rules and boundaries? Hedda didn’t think he did.

“Because I’m your fucking brother,” Rogan said. “That’s fucking how. They aren’t good for you. They are pieces of shit and my sister doesn’t associate with that.”

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