Page 30 of Hunted for Halloween

“He has locked me in this house like I'm some teenage girl who snuck out to a party to see her crush, and he expects me to show up to dinner to play happy daddy, happy daughter with him. Oh, he can piss off for all I care!” I snap, folding my arms under my chest.

“Well, you could go downstairs and tell him all of these things, you know? He might be mad at you, but he's still your father. He loves you so much, and that's why he's so mad at you. Go downstairs and talk to him. If anyone can convince him of what you have with Christian, it's you.” Her voice is soft and persuasive.

I look away from her, biting down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. A fresh round of tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them back.

“I'm not playing dress up for him.” I snarl, turning on my heels and marching out of the room. I stop short when I get to the door, glaring daggers at the two stiff bastards at the entrance before stomping my way downstairs.

My heart does a double flip when I get a peek at his thick dark hair from the edge of the staircase where I'm standing. He's clad in a button up crisp shirt with rolled sleeves, his body humming with nerves where he's seated as he taps away furiously on his phone.

I try to be discreet as I approach the dining room but he must have sensed my flip flops hitting the tiled floor because he looks up from his screen. My breath catches in my lungs and I almost topple backwards in shock because I feel like I don't recognize the man before me.

His eyes are harsh and cold, devoid of their signature warmth and adoration that always cloud his beautiful blue eyes whenever he watches me. He doesn't flinch or bat an eyelid. He merely looks away from me and turns his attention back to his phone.

Sadness slashes through me, but I don't allow it to overwhelm me. I stop short at the seat opposite him at the high end of the dining area where he's seating. My hands tremble slightly as I take my seat, shifting nervously.

“Good evening, Dad.” I whisper, not looking up from my hands lying on my lap.

Dad ignores my greetings like I don't even exist. My throat closes up and I try to blink back my tears but they cloud my eyes, blurring my vision.

When I look up from my shaky hands, the maids are already filing in to dish up our meal. The thought of getting anything into my system makes bile rise to my throat, but I push it back.

I stare at the plate of Pan seared herbed salmon paired with Quinoa and some steamed asparagus. My taste buds feel dead, but I pick up my cutlery and begin to eat. As I slice through my protein, my eyes often drift to my Dad's figure, watching him scarf down his food without a care in the world.

Tension hangs thickly in the air, thinning out the breath in my lungs every time I try to speak to him.

“Are you really not going to look at me?” I choke out, suddenly dropping my cutlery.

“Eat your food, Aurora.” He answers curtly, pushing a slice of salmon into his mouth.

“I don't want to eat!” I raise my voice, glaring at him with tears in my eyes. His jaw ticks, frustration denting his features as his cutlery clatters against his plate. The sound makes me flinch. “We are going to talk about this, here and now and I'm not going to take no for an answer.” I say sternly.

“You want to talk?” he scoffs, taking a sip of his red wine. “Fine, let's talk. Let's talk about how you have been sleeping with my best friend behind my back!” he shoots at me harshly, his eyes narrowing on me in slits.

“I wasn't doing it behind your back, dad. We just didn't know how to tell you yet?—”

He laughs sardonically. “So, if I hadn't walked in on him almost screwing you in the elevator, would you have told me about it?”

My eyes flutter shut, tears streaming down my face. It's not that I won't tell him. I just didn't know how to because I know how protective my father can be.

“He's my best friend!” he yells and I flinch, wanting to stuff myself into the chair behind me.

“I love him.” I don't know when the words leave my mouth, but I realize that saying it makes relief swoop through me. His eyes flash with fear and shock, darkening with rage afterwards like he can't believe I just said that.

“W-what?” he stammers.

“Yes, Dad. You heard me. I love Christian. He makes me happy. If you hadn't allowed your ego and your impulsiveness to cloud your judgment, it should have been the first thing you asked me instead of throwing it in my face that I'm spreading my legs for him like a whore and asking me if he's forcing himself on me—” a sob rips from my throat.

“Daddy, he's your best friend. How can you accuse him of something like that? Why in the world would you think Christian would force himself on me? He loves and respects you! And let's not forget, I'm a grown ass woman who is capable of making her own decisions. If I want to be with Christian, you should respect my choices, not criticize them. I'm twenty-seven, Dad, not seventeen. Get that through your head!” my voice rises a notch at the end, my words thick with irritation.

He stares at me like I have grown two heads, his eyes narrowing on me in slits. “If you want to be treated like an adult, then act like it and stop screwing your father's best friend for starters—I can't even…Christ, Aurora, he's older than you!”

“I don't care.” I reply coldly. “Do you even know how many crazy thoughts have crossed my mind? I even wanted to lie to you that I'm carrying his child just so you'd have no choice but to let me be with him.”

His eyes widen in shock. “Are you pregnant?”

I hiss through my teeth. “No, but I wish I was. Maybe that way, you'd be forced to accept what you are truly terrified of.”

“I’d have dragged you to the doctor myself to get it out.” He grits his teeth and I reel backwards inwardly, his words hitting me like a whiplash.

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