Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,35

for me. Mama—”

“Isn’t here,” he cut in, his hand slashing through the air before digging his finger into his chest. “I am, and I’m ordering you to marry Camden.”

His face colored red with anger, and I knew the man I’d come to for help didn’t stand before me. My chest heaved over the panic that I didn’t recognize him. This was a stranger, and I’d never felt more alone in the realization that he didn’t care, that I was stuck. My eyes looked left and right around his angry form, searching for a way out of this. Searching for someone to pop out and tell me it was all a joke—for my father to laugh and pull me into his arms and apologize for scaring me.

But it was just me.

“Why are you doing this?” Something had to be wrong. Something had to be forcing him to be this man with me.

He swallowed but held strong to the shield blocking me out. “Because it’s what must be done for the company, and that is your job.”

“I can marry someone else. There has to be a balance between what is good for the company and what is good for me. There has to be.”

“There isn’t because Camden is who I’ve decided is the best fit, and you will marry him.”

I slid my eyes closed and remembered the scowl on Camden’s face as he promised to own me. I remembered the way his fist dug into my hair, the way he touched me without my permission.

I never truly talked back to my father. I never had to beyond a few petty arguments. I was the good girl. The obedient daughter who never complained about the future set out for me, even if it wasn’t what I wanted.

But that was because he’d always been in my corner, standing behind me.

Pulling my shoulders back, I stood tall. I couldn’t afford to be the good girl who never talked back right now. No one else stood in my corner anymore but me.

“And if I don’t?” I asked, my voice strong but quiet.

“Th-then I’ll cut you off,” he stuttered, flustered a moment with my response.

“Fine. I don’t need you, anyway.” While he stood shocked with the turn of events, I stood taller—more confident. “I’d rather be poor than forced into a marriage with that monster. I’ll leave and never look back.”

He collected himself quickly at my challenge. His already dark eyes grew darker, but I saw the indecision that lurked in the depths. I hesitated for a moment, thinking that maybe it hinted that my father was still there, not this stranger.

I was wrong.

“Verana…” he barely said my name and prowled the last two steps until he looked down his nose at me, all signs of a father gone. “There is nowhere you can go that I won’t find you and drag you back kicking and screaming. You will marry Camden.”

I’d heard about this side of him. The shark in the business world. The man who conquered all and rose to the top even when it meant being hard. But never with me.

Why? Why was this happening?

Feeling the loss of his support took more wind out of my sails than anything else. Unable to stop them, tears burned the backs of my eyes and slipped free.

For a moment, Papa softened. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and sighed. “Maybe I can talk to him. Maybe if you make him happy, he’ll allow you to work, and you can be a part of the company.”

He’d allow? Like it was a privilege to work at the company I was qualified to work at? The company that had my family name on the building.

This wasn’t what was promised. This wasn’t what was explained at bedtime. This didn’t end with us dancing in the kitchen one day. This was selling myself for anything, and anywhere in the hopes he’d maybe allow me some basic decency.

My father finally softened, the dangerous challenger from a moment ago fading to reveal that one I’d been searching for. But it was too late.

Allow.

Allow.

Allow.

Each time I thought the word, the fire grew inside me. It exploded like a bomb, heating every inch until I was sure I’d combust myself.

“Fuck him,” I snarled, leaning in so he could feel the rage pouring off me. “And fuck you too. Mama would be ashamed of you.”

I heard the smack before it registered. It rang out in the hallway, the perfect preamble to the burning sting