Page 13 of Hunted Temptation
He runs this entire city.
People shit their pants when he walks into a room. So, the fact that the tables are turned, I’m not only terrified butintrigued at the same time. I also know that none of this can be good.
Once my face and hair are in place, I listen for my father’s arrival. I don’t know what he’s going to have me wear, or where we’re going, but I’m unfortunately ready for whatever is coming my way… at least as ready as I can be.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I watch as the minutes tick by, then the hours. I don’t move. I don’t need to. I’m not hungry, not thirsty. I am prepared and ready for whatever is coming my way.
As I sit and wait, I try to avoid thinking about the actual acts. I hope I’ll be able to do my usual, which is to disappear into my own head, in the darkness and safety that waits for me.
The front door opens.
Then closes.
The lock doesn’t click into place, and I instantly know that it’shim. I know it is just by the shift in the air around me.
It’s suffocating.
I don’t move, staying where I am as I wait for him to come to me. He prefers it this way. A few moments later, my bedroom door opens. Turning my head, I look over to see him standing above me.
He lifts his arm, but I’m not sure that I want to see what he’s showing me. The air is thick and heavy, and breathing becomes difficult. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been doing this since I was a little girl. I shouldn’t be this upset.
It’s just another day.
It should be just another day, but I guess when yourjust another dayis filled with piled-on trauma, it’s more than that. Shifting my gaze to his extended arm, I notice what he’s holding out.
Dangling from his fingertips is a little pink babydoll dress, and it makes me feel like I’m going to throw up immediately. I open my mouth to say something, but instead of actually sayinganything, I snap my lips closed. This is not the time or the place to ask anything. I know that much to be true. I need to keep my lips shut, do what I’m told, and be the best at it.
The absolute best.
“You’re lucky,” he announces.
“Lucky?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything else immediately. Instead of sounding as snarky as I feel on the inside while asking that, I keep my tone curious.
My father hums, then clears his throat before he walks over to the bed and gently lays the pedophilic pink dress on the bed.
“Lucky,” he says, repeating the word. “He wanted somebody much younger. You’re saving a girl tonight.”
My heart wrenches.
Luck.
Luck has nothing to do with it.
Money is more like it.
I was never lucky when I was a girl. My father is a selfish asshole. I don’t call that luck. As much as I want to, I don’t say any of that, though. Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch him for a long moment, and when he realizes that I’m not going to respond, he continues.
“Don’t disappoint me, Elodie. He is very important to our future, to my future.”
“I won’t,” I rasp.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now get dressed. He’ll be here in a few moments, and you need to be waiting for him in the guest room.”
“Here?” I ask.
Never does my father bring men here, to our home. It’s always to a condo in town, something he’s had my entire life. It’s always been the place where these things happen. I’ve never questioned it.
Usually, because I knew nothing else, I thought it was normal that this was what happened in the world. I didn’t know it was wrong, not until I got older, and it felt so wrong. Incredibly wrong. When girls at school started talking about crushes and first kisses, I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal for men to touch and kiss—totake.
