Page 68 of Ruthless Rebel

I swallow hard and try not to cry. “You heard me, so please don’t ask me if there was nothing more I could do. I did everything. But what about you? What did you do? You have the audacity to bring up Sasha, but all those times when he hit me, you told me to stay. That’s what you did, and you didn’t come for me when I was seconds away from death. Gina did. She was so sick, yet she still came through for me.” I don’t realize I’m shaking until I look at my hands and see the tremor in my fingers. “I hope you never know what it’s like to have a gun pointed at your head while you pray your next breath won’t be your last.”

Anguish fills his face, and he reaches out to me, but I step back. “River—”

“No. Don’t. There’s nothing to say.”

“These people think they’re gods because they have money.”

“I’d rather be with a guy who can take care of me and my family than one who could get me killed.” I dry my tears. “We’re getting married, whether you like it or not, Dad.”

“Well, I guess there’s nothing I can do, is there?” He stares back at me, and I watch the stubbornness leave his face, but the tension remains.

“I would really appreciate it if you didn’t make this difficult. It doesn’t have to be. I’m getting married, and I’m asking you to try to accept Jericho. He’s never done anything bad to me.”

My words sound lifeless, and I’m so drained out from everything that I can’t muster the emotional conviction I need to convince him to support me.

Despite my exhaustion, I’ll admit that it’s partly because the girl inside me is still hurt by what Jericho did all those years ago, but it’s time to get over it.

My entire body sighs with relief when Dad nods.

“I’ll do it for you, but I’ll never be happy about it.”

“Okay…” I suppose that the best I’ll get out of him, and I’ll have to accept it.

* * *

By midday, I handed over my contract along with Eden’s NDA to a well-dressed posh elderly man called Brady, who introduced himself as Jericho’s assistant and custodian.

Three hours later, Gina had her surgery, which was a success and a relief off my shoulders. Just seeing Dr. French looking optimistic gave me hope and encouragement that Gina would be okay now.

More than anything, I felt like I’d given Gina the chance my mother never had. I also imagined Mom smiling at me with the deepest gratitude for saving her sister, a woman who is a literal angel walking on earth.

While Gina has spent the last few days recovering, I’ve been preparing for my new life by moving.

On Friday night, Eden and I move all my things—which technically isn’t that much—to Jericho’s luxury oceanfront home in the Hamptons.

Eden and I were completely stunned to silence when we found out where he lived, but when we actually see the house, the two of us have the kind of star struck experience you have when you see how the other half lives.

Jericho’s home has six bedrooms and the same amount of bathrooms, two livings rooms with ornate fireplaces and artwork on the walls. He has an outdoor pool and private access to the beach, a gym, two garages filled with all sorts of luxury cars and motorcycles, and extensive grounds that could fit the same size house on it twice over.

I have my own room, which is breathtakingly beautiful with a terrace balcony offering a scenic view of the sea. I am also told one of the storage rooms will be turned into a dance studio so I can practice.

The extravagance of everything is impressive, and for once, as daunting as this all is, I have that Cinderella feeling in a good way. Like I’m in an actual fairytale and not some twisted version where villains like my evil stepmother and sister win the happily ever after.

It might be a temporary fix, but it hits the spot and at the very least soothes the angst I felt after arguing with my father.

But… I haven’t seen Jericho yet. I’m eager to learn the extra details of our arrangement and to have some idea of what will happen next.

I heard he was working, but I expected to catch a glimpse of him at some point. It seems, though, that he hasn’t been here at all. At least his staff have been nice and really accommodating toward me.

Saturday morning comes, and I wake with the sun. It dawns on me that I don’t know what time I’ll be seeing Jericho, so I decide to get dressed and stick to my loose plan of heading to the studio to practice.

Jericho knows I have rehearsals with the dance company in the evening, so unless I’m told otherwise, I figure he’ll probably see me later in the day.

It’s barely seven now, and the house is so quiet my footsteps on the floorboards sound out of place.

When I reach the garage and make my way past his row of Ferraris, Porsches, and the Aston Martin, to where I parked my car last night, I get the shock my life because it’s not there. As in, it’s gone.

“What the hell?” I mutter to myself as I look around. “Where the hell is my car?”

---