Page 23 of Wreck Me

Dave grunted from the other line again before I heard it click dead.

Ok, see you there.

I just need to go see a man named Dave first.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Icouldn’t shake the feeling I was being stood up.

Maybe this was it. Caleb had actually changed his mind about me, or had decided he should have listened to himself to begin with and stayed away. Either way, it’d been two hours since he had originally asked to meet me and I hadn’t heard from him since his text instructed me to meet him at my place instead.

So much for a quick stop.

Still, I forced myself to ignore the urge to text him and ask where he was. I didn’t want to seem like a needy girlfriend. Or maybe it was just that I didn’t want confirmation he was blowing me off.

Shit, I just called myself his girlfriend.

We hadn’t put a label on what was going on between us, but I definitely didn’t hate the idea of being Caleb’s girlfriend.

“Ughhhhh,” I groaned, kicking my left leg over the top of the couch and draping my arm over my eyes. Clutching my phone in my hand, I fought the temptation to throw it across the room. How could I be so stupid?Of course,he would change his mind. He was so apprehensive in the beginning, I was a fool to think this could be anything, but so hopeful it could besomething. But I needed to remind myself to get my head out of the clouds. This wasn’t a romance novel, this was real life.My life. And my life was a fucking disaster of epic proportions.

My phone began to vibrate against my hand, and how quickly I wiped my arm off my face to look at the caller I.D. could have rivaledThe Flash.

A sigh deflated my chest as I peered at the photo illuminated on my screen. Begrudgingly, I answered the call. “Hello, Father. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Why aren’t you in class? I expected your voicemail,” my father's smooth voice drifted through the phone, his tone flat and businesslike.

“If you expected my voicemail, then why did you call when you knew I had class?”

“Because I wanted to reach your voicemail, Isla. What I have to say does not require a conversation, yet here we are, wasting valuable time.”

“By all means, Father, don’t let me keep you.” My hand slammed over my mouth and my eyes widened at how I was speaking to my father. My stomach immediately fell.

If he noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Thanksgiving dinner is at six o’clock sharp. The Bradleys will be joining us this year, so I expect you to arrive no later than four o’clock. Be dressed in business casual, and ready to impress their oldest son, Blake.”

“I—what?”

“Oh, don’t be daft, Isla. It’s unbecoming. Four o’clock.”

The line went dead.

For several seconds, I continued to hold the phone to my ear, my mouth hanging open as I replayed the conversation over in my head. My fingers squeezed around the sides of it until they stiffened and I finally brought it down to rest on the couch beside me.

It wasn’t enough he wanted to steal away my future career, but now he wanted to control my dating life too? Was he trying to marry me off to this man?

Holy shit.

I wouldn’t put it past him to do just that.

My father had it in his head that he was so powerful he could control his only daughter's entire adult life. It wasn’t enough he controlled my childhood–he wanted the rest of my life too, as though it was just some possession to him.

Something inside me broke at that moment.

I wasn’t a person to him. Not his daughter, his flesh and blood. I was an object. A pawn in his game of chess. The final piece of the puzzle needed to tick all the boxes for his accomplishments.

I couldn’t do this anymore.

Thanksgiving afternoon, I would show up at four as he requested. I’d dress the part, bat my lashes at whatever man he was trying to force me on, and as soon as the whoeverthefucks left, my father and I’d sit down and have a nice long conversation in his home office.

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