Page 10 of Sinful Desires
Thesigh.
The one that said,I hate that you’re my daughter,but unfortunately,you are.
The one that carried all the weight of a man who had everything yet still managed to be miserable.
He stood and took my wrist. Not hard. Not soft. Just enough to remind me of the rules.
A warning, dressed like affection.
“How much?”
I stared back, my face blank. Pulse steady. If he wanted a reaction, he could earn it.
I blinked. “What?”
I said it like I didn’t already know.
Drugs.
How much I’d bought. How much I’d used. How much I might still have in my system.
Unfortunately for him, and tragically for me, I hadn’t touched anything in a week.
A full, awful, clear-headed week.
And I felt fine. But now, standing here under his gaze, I wished I was high. Or unconscious.
He turned toward me, grip tightening. “How much, Scarlett?”
“Enough to pretend being a Harper is a privilege and not a curse.”
I should’ve seen it coming. Of course he hit me. It was a family tradition by now. But each time, it felt as though a part of me withered away.
His palm struck my cheek. My skin lit up, my eyes burned, and my hand flew to cover the sting. He sighed as though I’d ruinedhisday and let go.
He sat back down on his chair and took another puff from his cigar, lost in his delusion that he was some misunderstood titan instead of a tyrant with a trust fund.
I rolled my jaw side to side, checking if he’d dislocated anything. Spoiler: he hadn’t.
Shame.
Might’ve been the only interesting thing about this little tantrum.
“I got a demand for a hundred grand,” he said, voice rough as gravel. “From some nobody with photos of you near 149th. Care to enlighten me how exactly you ended up there, alone? Or have you gotten so reckless you can’t even find someone to score for you?”
My lungs tightened. Fucking stalkers. A girl can’t even fall apart in peace.
“I’ll pay you back.”
“It’s not about the money, Scarlett,” he exploded, loudly enough to make my eardrum file for divorce.
Next time, I’d bring noise-canceling headphones and holy water.
“And where was Kyle?” His voice dropped lower. Deadlier. “We pay him millions to keep you breathing, and you let him off duty while you play junkie in a back alley?”
Shit.
I swallowed. “He didn’t know.”
