Page 110 of The Rivals' Touch

“Open the fucking door! You’re worrying me!”

“What are you doing, son?” My father’s voice filters through, making my heart jolt with fear; a cold shiver runs down my back. I snap my head to the door and curse the sudden action when my body explodes in pain.

“Remi has overslept. We’ll be late for school if we don’t leave now.”

“She has already left. My driver took her to school half an hour ago.”

Silence. “Why would she do that?”

A tear trails down my bruised cheek and seeps into the pillow.

“She had to go in early to speak to a teacher about a project. What’s his name again? Mr. Labrune?”

I’m impressed my father knows the teachers’ names at my school, but I’m also not surprised.

“Mr. Labrune?” Zayd sounds skeptical. “Why is her door locked?”

“Is it?” My father sounds genuinely surprised, but he’s mastered the art of manipulation throughout the years. He tries the lock. “Well, if this isn’t incentive enough to break in to search for whatever she doesn’t want me to find, I don’t know what is.”

“Whatever,” Zayd mumbles; his voice drifts away. “I’ll catch her at school.”

A minute or two passes before my father tries the door handle again. “Open the door, Remi.”

I shift on the bed, and my eyes blur with tears as I stare at the rattling door handle.

“Open this fucking door right now!”

I slide out of bed and hiss through my clenched teeth as a wave of pain rolls through me. “I’m coming,” I choke out. Limping over, I flip the lock before crawling back into bed. I’ll collapse if I don’t lie down.

My father shuts the door and scans his eyes over my tidy bedroom. “We’re having dinner with the Beaufort’s later. You will personally apologize to Bennett and his father for opening your legs to that Zayd boy last night.”

I pull my quilt over my head. “That ‘boy’ is your future wife’s son.”

The bed dips, and I fight the sudden urge to move away. I don’t want to show weakness in front of my father. Especially when he lowers the quilt and traces his fingers over a painful scab on my cheek. “Try to cover your bruises with make-up later. We need you to look presentable.”

I don’t look at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing his touch rattles me. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? A business meeting? Preferably a trip to a foreign country?”

He skims his fingers over the deep cut on my bottom lip. “Look at you, sweetheart. You’re a fucking mess!” Then he lies down next to me and pulls me close. “Come here, my little princess.”

“Dad?”

“Shhh!” My hair is swept aside, his nose nuzzling the crook of my neck. “Daddy’s got you!”

Meanwhile, the dust floats peacefully in the air, swirling in the morning sun.

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