Page 22 of Once Kissed

“Then perhaps you should have been a little nicer,” he bites out. “Mallory shall escort you to a boutique one week before the event for a formal dress. Be ready at ten….”

“Ican’t.I have exams coming up—and, and my duties at the DA’s office have become more demanding.”

“I’ve arranged a private showing,” he continues. If he bothered listening, he’d hear the tears and desperation in my voice.

“Please don’t make me do this,” I beg.

“Quit acting like a child, stop your whining, and donotdisappoint me,” he snaps. “Your future depends on it.”

When he disconnects, it’s all I can do not to throw the stupid phone.

His comment about my future is meant as a warning so I don’t screw uphisfuture.

My father is a wealthy man. His seemingly limitless funds have allowed him to hold prestigious positions and associate with the power elite. Yet it’s never enough. Heneedsto feel important—omnipotent even—someone people seek, admire, and tremble before. It’s sick how he obsessively craves it like a drug, and how little he cares who it hurts and what it costs someone else, especially when it pertains to me.

In this case, he’s dropping cash in exchange for future favors, and for the opportunity to have his daughter seen with a political juggernaut.

As I sit on the couch, the life Father has carefully devised for me plays out like a well-orchestrated movie script: I’ll graduate law school, only to marry some sleazy politician or renowned figure he selects for me. I’ll play the good wife, ignoring my husband’s indiscretions, raising our children with a plastic smile fixed on my face, only to be replaced by someone better and younger when I’m no longer of use. Precisely like my mother’s life had been.

Hmm. What’s that saying? Oh, yes.Fuck that.

Six more months,I remind myself.Just six more and you’re free.

That’s what I tell myself. But as I think about how little I fought and how easily he defeated me, I can no longer be sure.Jesus,will I ever be free of this man?

Curran

I spent the next few hours in the cold, listening to my scanner and to all the calls I wouldn’t respond to. Considering it was midweek, there was a lot of shit going down. Two domestic violence calls so far, five thefts, and six breaking-and-enterings.

I should be there,I tell myself,watching backs, throwing down, getting the bad guys.

But would any of the boys in blue want me there now? I scoff. Probably not.

There was a time when I’d show up to crazy shit, and even crazier felons. Relief would flood my boys’ faces—even vets years into the force seemed happy to see me.

“You’re a good cop, O’Brien.”

“Thank God you’re here, O’Brien.”

“Hell, ’bout time you got here, O’Brien.”

That’s what I’d hear, and that’s what I’d sense. I tried not to let it go to my head, and for the most part I didn’t, too caught up in what was happening.

Turns out, they gave me too much credit.

Turns out, they were dead wrong.

It’s a long and hard fall from the top. And that shit hurts when you land.

I adjust my position and glance up at Tess’s apartment. The lights flick off except for one, which casts a shadow along her living room. I watch her lean silhouette cross the length of the room and into her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if in deep thought. Maybe she’s thinking through what she studied and learned. That’s my guess, until she pauses by the window and looks out, before quickly rushing away.

I laugh to myself. She did the same thing earlier when I caught her checking me out. And damn it all, she hadn’t liked me calling her on it, had she? Her sweet ass probably paced all over her apartment, pissed I was onto her….

Oh, shit.I pass a hand over my face, muttering to myself, “Okay, asshole, exactly what are you doing here?”

“Fuck you. I’m here to get a report, dumbass.”

I grumble a swear. I don’t have to turn around to know Lu’s here, pissed, and has likely been eyeing me like a hawk. I glance at the clock. She’s early. Way early. Damn. Considering she’s two donuts shy of the big one, she moves like a shadow.

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