Page 53 of Don't Make Me Beg
“Can he do that?” someone else calls out.
Their expressions are better than I imagined, like I just suggested we host a live sex show rather than paint a mural downtown. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.
I’m still avoiding Jett’s death glare as I add, “That’s right, a massive mural featuring our infamous Phantom is sure to become Ashford Falls’ biggest attraction. And I can’t think of a better place than on the side of Restaurant.”
The room explodes at the mention of the Phantom.
Lily and Lucy start arguing with Fergus about whether his father actually saw the Phantom or just hallucinated it after too many fermented persimmons. Miss Scarlett’s fanning herself as she tells Colleen Collier about the most recent Phantom romance novel…
It’s almost too perfect. Honestly, this may be my finest work yet.
I’m thoroughly enjoying myself watching the chaos I’ve unleashed, when movement at the back of the room catches my eye.
The two late arrivals, who slipped in quietly before, are now shoving their way through the rows of chairs as they make a beeline straight for Scout.
And that’s when I recognize them.
Her parents.
What the fuck are they doing here?
Just like that, the amusement I was just feeling drains out of me, replaced by a sharp, familiar anger. My heart lurches up into my throat, and I shift as my eyes lock onto Scout, zeroing in on every twitch of her expression.
She’s smiling softly to herself, clearly amused by the utter chaos. But the moment she recognizes them, all the color drains from her face.
Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “What are you doing here?” I see the words form on her lips as she turns to her mother, who’s wearing a pale pink calf-length skirt and a matching blouse that washes out her pale complexion. Her blonde hair is pulled into a tight, severe knot, and she’s literally clutching the pearls around her neck.
Beside her, Judge Sinclair stands ramrod straight, dark hair slicked back, the picture of judgment stuffed into a custom-tailored suit.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s not exactly difficult to figure out.
I’m so focused on trying to decipher the exchange that I don’t even notice Jett has moved beside me… Not until his arm crooks around my neck from behind…
“There’s no fucking way I’m going to allow you to vandalize my building… again,” he growls in my ear, tightening his grip to cut off my air supply.
I try to thrash, elbowing him, but Jett’s got that grown-man strength—the same as Dad and Leo—and it’s impossible to escape. I’m not sure what age you unlock it, but it sure as hell isn’t twenty-six.
I punch his arm and throw a kick back, desperate to break free, but he just clamps down harder.
“Dammit, Jett, let me go,” I gasp. My vision starts to blur as I struggle against his hold, but my eyes stay trained on Scout.
It feels like I’m watching her parents siphon the life out of her right before my eyes.
Scout cowers as her mother shouts something at her. And I swear I can feel her heart breaking all the way across the room.
My stomach twists in mangled knots as I watch the sparkle in her eyes slowly disappear, like a raincloud swallowing the sun.
Why isn’t she standing up for herself?
Why the fuck is she just taking it?
A renewed sense of rage burns through my chest as a mixture of disappointment and irritation consume me, and I go completely still.
Her father grabs her by the arm and yanks her toward him. My rage intensifies, and all I see is red.
I’m not sure how it happens. One second, I’m stuck in Jett’s headlock, and the next, he’s flying over my shoulder, crashing into a row of metal chairs as I charge across the room.
Her father yanks her by the arm. “You’ve embarrassed me quite enough. We are leaving. Now?—”
