Page 22 of Bitter Arrangement

Go ahead, you bastard. Show yourself who you really are.

“If you run, I will follow,” he says very softly, staring at me the whole time. “There’s no hole you can hide in. No country you can disappear to. No friend will help you. This wedding is happening, and afterward, you’ll do your duty as a wife to that man. Do you understand me?”

I ball my hands into fists. I can see myself hitting him, screaming in his face, letting him see how much this is killing me.

But he won’t give a shit.

Because I’m nothing but a disappointment.

“Yes, Dad,” I say through my teeth, tasting the words like bile.

“No trouble this time, Riley. No outbursts, no stubbornness, no bullshit. Walk down the aisle and do right by the family for once.”

“I will.”

“Good.” He turns away. “Don’t embarrass me.”

Then he leaves, and I’m left alone.

Anger flares in my guts. I’m not mad at him though. That’s exactly what I expected from my prick of a father.

No, I’m pissed at myself, yet again.

There’s something about that man. I hate him so much, but no matter what he says to me, I still crave his approval. He turns me into a quivering, pathetic little child with nothing but a hard stare and a sharp word.

It’s absolutely crushing, and it’s not me.

Nobody else in the world would ever dare treat me that way because I’d never let them.

Except for my father.

I fall to pieces every time, and I loathe myself for it.

On a whim, I storm into my closet, pop out the board, and open my hidden safe. Inside are all my treasures, tucked away and hidden.

I grab out the antique watch. It ticks at me, quiet and steady, and I shove it down the front of my dress and get it wedged down in my waistline, the bulge hidden by the skirt.

It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but it instantly makes me feel better.

The watch reminds me that I’m not a weakling. I’m not the little loser girl I crumble into whenever my father treats me like crap.

I’m a thief. And a pretty good one, too.

I pat the watch and take a deep breath. “You can do this,” I whisper to myself as I shut the safe and put the board back into place.

Another knock. Cass comes back into my room, looking sad. “You ready?” she asks. “The car’s here.”

“I’m ready.” I hold my head up high. No crying on my wedding day. “Let’s go get hitched.”

Chapter9

Alexan

I’ve seen her a dozen times since that first afternoon when she broke into my house. From a distance, from up close, through binoculars and on a screen. I’ve studied my future wife with an obsessive eye for detail.

But I never saw her like this.

Perfect

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