Page 74 of The Rivals' Touch

Bennett stiffens next to me as we follow my father outside. “He’s gone to a party with Jacob.”

We fall into silence, but it’s not a comfortable one. His words from earlier hang in the air.

My father ends the call. “Fucking incompetent assholes!” He looks at me. “Excellent job out there tonight.”

I can’t help but feel relieved at his praise.

“Yeah, she did an amazing job, as always,” Bennett agrees, placing his arm over my shoulder, but I don’t miss the bite in his words.

“Ariana has dinner ready for us when we get back,” my father tells us, opening the door. I don’t comment that the paid staff have prepared dinner, not his fiancé.

I don’t need another beating.

The air is mild but clammy and smells of fresh rain—a sheen of sweat forms on my skin. The town car pulls up with immaculate timing as if fine-tuned to my father’s needs. Bennett opens the door for me.

My father gets in last and sits opposite, eyeing my wet hair disapprovingly. “Don’t they have hairdryers in the ladies’ locker room?”

I consciously touch my fingers to my braid as Bennett fastens his seatbelt. “They do.”

“Then why didn’t you use them?”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment. I hate when Bennett overhears these conversations. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

He sniffs and looks out the window as the car starts moving. “When we get home, you will dry your hair and put on something presentable. Bennett is here for a rare visit, and he doesn’t want to look at you in jeans.”

I stiffen but don’t reply. There’s no point in arguing. I wish Bennett would speak up for me and say something like, “I don’t mind her wearing jeans,” but of course, he doesn’t.

They fall into a discussion about Hedgewood’s upcoming game. I’ve never noticed before how chummy they are. My father isn’t that funny or interesting, so there’s no need for Bennett to be so riveted by him. It’s as if they’re best friends, and I’m the third wheel.

We soon arrive at the house, and they disappear through the front door of the house while I exit the backseat.

The driver tips his hat. “Have a good evening, Miss Burke.”

Unease twists my stomach as I walk inside and hurry upstairs to dry my hair as instructed.

As I undo my braid, I look at the short, red dress on my bed. My father must have called ahead and asked one of the paid staff members to put it out for me. My skin crawls at the thought of wearing something he picked, but I put it on like the obedient daughter he’s molded me into.

It stops mid-thigh, but the real showstopper is the sweetheart neckline. I’m not used to such pronounced cleavage. I wouldn’t have picked it for myself.

There’s a knock on the door as I spray a mist of hairspray on my blonde curls.

When my father enters my room and flips the lock, I freeze. His leather shoes sink into the furry, cream carpet as he walks up behind me and sweeps my hair from my shoulder. “Such a beautiful young lady!” His hand trails lower, down my front.

“Benne—”

“Is otherwise occupied,” he replies, cutting me off, and I hold my breath as he cups my breast. He buries his nose in my hair. “I’m proud of you, my princess. You conducted yourself well today!”

I fight the urge to bat him off as he slides his hand inside the low neckline and squeezes my naked flesh.

“Watching you cheer made me so fucking horny!” he says, bending me over the vanity table and pulling both cups down until my breasts spill free.

Tears well in my eyes as he grapples with his belt. “Dad, no!”

He groans and trails his big palm down my back and over my ass. His hand disappears underneath my skirt. “What should you call me?”

My voice is barely audible as the first tear falls. “Daddy.”

“That’s better! Now, what conversation did we have the other day, pumpkin?”

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