Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,46
so he would marry me? Now it made sense why he’d been so invested and kept coming back after everything. But what didn’t make sense was why it had been done in the first place. I felt dirty, used, like my dad had sold me instead of carefully placed me with someone I could grow to love. How could he have done such a thing?
With a final glance my way, Ryde walked out of the kitchen, and I stood there, reeling in the news Ryde had shared—and his threat.
The kitchen staff began filtering in now that Ryde had left, and the flurry of activity resumed around me as if nothing happened. But the ground felt unstable beneath me, as did the only person I'd ever really relied on since Mom had passed away. I leaned against the kitchen island, clinging to the granite countertops to stay standing.
Nausea consumed me, and I swallowed, trying to hold back the swell of disgust and betrayal rising in my throat. I felt no guilt now for turning down Ryde, for denying my father’s wishes. Slave trade wasn’t a part of the Indian tradition—he’d gone outside of our culture just as much as I had.
Fueled by anger, I made my way to the living room just minutes behind Ryde.
“There’s our girl,” Mr. Alexander said with a steely grin. It was now that I noticed the glint of desperation in his eyes. I was his family’s meal ticket.
Ryde leaned back in his seat and drained the rest of his drink. “Ain’t she a beaut?”
Pam laughed like the ex-pageant queen she was. “We have two beautiful girls in here, don’t we?”
“Three,” Mr. Alexander chuckled.
“Oh hush.” She batted her hand at him. “Should we go to supper before he has a chance for any more flattery?”
Dad nodded and began standing. “We can always accomplish that at the dinner table though.” The easy way he joked made me see red.
“Actually,” I spoke up with a forced smile, “Dad, can I talk to you outside?”
He furrowed his thick eyebrows at me like he wanted to chastise me for being rude but couldn't in front of the Alexanders.
He shook his head. “We can talk after dinner.”
Oh, we would be talking. A demented part of me wanted to watch and see how they acted—what would they say since they thought I was in the dark? What would take on new meaning now that Ryde had brought me in on the secret?
The Alexanders led the way to their dining room and enormous table. Ryde and I sat on one side, Dad and Merritt on the other, and then the Alexander parents at opposite ends. How they spoke to each other without a blowhorn was a mystery to me.
Everything was formal, with napkins folded in the shapes of swans and several forks and knives lined up alongside the plates. Did they normally eat like this? And if so, why? Dad and I knew proper etiquette for when we went to fancier restaurants, but at home, the rules went out the window.
Just the thought seared me. Dad and I. His betrayal cut me so deeply, I had a hard time thinking of him as anything other than a villain.
Almost mechanically, I folded the napkin over my lap. I didn't want to eat, had lost my appetite long ago, but moving through this meal would be the only way to speed up the time or at least not pay attention to every second as it passed on the clock.
One of the maids circled the table with a tray of salad plates, placing one in front of each of us. She started with me, and as she set it down, I said thank you. She went to Ryde next, and he ignored her, like she was simply expected to serve. Merritt did the same, as did their parents and my father.
Pam saw her salad and whipped her head around at the maid. “I asked for my dressing on the side.”
The young woman put her head down, took the plate and left the kitchen like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Pam shook her head, looking frustrated. “Honestly, she's worked with us for a month. You'd think she'd remember a salad order. Do you guys have a maid service you like? Ours continues sending us duds.”
I wasn't saying a word. The “dud” here wasn’t the woman bringing food to the table and practically spoon-feeding it to them.
Dad said, “We had a wonderful nanny we couldn’t live without.