Page 25 of Something Borrowed

“Are you drunk?” he snarls.

I sigh heavily.

“I’m tired, and I’m going to bed.”

“Where were you, Verity?”

“Clubbing with the girls.” I sigh.

“Why don’t you answer me truthfully for once? Just try it out, see how it feels.” He is pushing my patience.

“Ireally was clubbing.” I moan. “Ask one of these idiots.” I gesture over the security guys.

My father steps forward and hands me his iPad.

“Huh?” I mutter, taking it from him, not sure what he wants me to do with it.

He raises his brows and gestures towards the screen.

Sighing, I look down at the device in my hand and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. For a moment I can’t breathe.

It’s a media site. A popular one.

And the primary image on the front page is a photograph of Rufino and me - kissing outside a restaurant. A stolen kiss, I remember it. Quick, risky - we laughed afterwards.

Now it has become a crisp image for the entire world to gawk at.

Fuck.

I take a while to pluck up the courage to lift my eyes off the screen and up towards my father.

The veins on his temple are popping out in thick ridges like blue snakes lying beneath his skin. Pulsing as the blood throbs through them.

His eyes are dark orbs of disgust - aimed at me.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen himthisangry before.

I tear my eyes away from him and set the iPad down on the coffee table.

It’s too heavy - the evidence of what I’ve been doing is a weight I don’t want to hold in front of my father.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Verity?” He snarls.

“I love him.” I blurt out. Immediately knowing it was the worst thing I could ever have said.

“You - you -lovehim?” He screams, his neck muscle taunt and his fists clenched. “You are trying to tell me youlovethat savage degenerate. Our enemy. Are you fuckingstupid?”

My insides are churning, my mind torn. Fight back, defend the man I love, or keep my mouth shut to try to make this situation at least a fraction easier.

But anger is surging inside me now.

Anger about every time my father has tried to control me - every time he’s manipulated my life and taken things away from me. Every time he’s tried to tell me who I had to be and stopped me from being myself.

That anger bubbles up from inside me and floods out of my mouth in a tidal wave.

“I don’t care what you think. I don’t care if you aren’t happy to call me your daughter. Red accepts me for who I am. He loves me forwho I am.Not who he wishes I was. I don’t care if you’re angry. I don’t care about anything.”

I scream and I can feel the tension in the room growing. Security guards take a polite step backwards, creating space between themselves and my rage.

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