Entry-Level Mistress - By Sabrina Darby Page 0,55

those things.

“You knew that. But I’m not the immature one.”

The corners of his lips turned down. His jaw worked. I wanted to cry but I was steel.

“What do you want from me, Emily?”

That stopped me. All my anger, all the hurt, the feeling of betrayal—none of it mattered to him. I’d wanted to confront him, but for what? An apology? Or did I want revenge? Neither answer would satisfy me.

My father wanted revenge. I could give it to him. I could hand Daniel’s future to him on a silver platter, make that fledgling foray into space a crashing loss.

The silence grew between us. His expression was one that I had once thought I could read. All my anger, all the pain, was bound up within me. I was full with it and yet, still, I stood there and stared.

“It was just a game.” His words were clipped, staccato, and even though there was something more there beneath the flippancy, they still angered me. I liked the anger more than the tears.

“And you played dirty,” I said, lifting my chin before I turned sharply to leave. As far as exit lines, it didn’t have enough of a punch, but I didn’t trust myself. I wanted—needed—out of there.

Chapter 17

I didn’t go straight home. Not when my dad was waiting there, expecting me to come back and tell him exactly how I intended to bring Daniel Hartmann down. Except, I couldn’t. Which was why I had just broken up with Daniel. I wouldn’t be a pawn. Not for anyone.

But dad was still there when I walked in several hours later. Sitting on the futon, in my spot. Which infuriated me. If he hadn’t shown up I would still be with Daniel, could sit on the futon, could—

“I broke up with him, OK?” I sat down on the Papasan, crossed my legs. It was weird to look at everything from this position.

“I’m not sure that’s the smartest idea.”

Heat swarmed me, made me dizzy.

“Excuse me?”

“We want to get back at him, and proximity could be useful.”

“No! I’m not getting back at him, Dad.”

He stood up, suddenly furious, his finger pointing at me.

“You’re just going to let him walk all over you. Let him walk all over me? Ruin our lives again?”

I stared up at him in shock. I didn’t like seeing my dad this way. It was like I hadn’t just ruined his career opportunity. I’d broken his peace.

“Taking anything away from Daniel might hurt him financially but it gains us nothing,” I said carefully. “I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want you to be like him either.”

My dad stepped back. As if he were finally listening. As if all those years of meditation hadn’t been wasted.

“You were right, Dad. Revenge was a stupid idea.”

He sat down again. Relief filled me. The panic eased from my body.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again. “I can see why you’re angry. But I’m the one who’s to blame. I sought him out.” I looked down at my hands. “And then I forgot why I was there because he was nothing like I expected and yet everything like he is in the magazines, only real. He’s got this magnetism, and he’s smart and intense, and I found myself wishing he wasn’t who he was and I wasn’t who I was and there wasn’t all this history.” The absence of motion made me stop. I peeked at my dad, found him leaning forward, head in his hands.

“You love him.”

He said it flatly and it made me ashamed, as if all those gorgeous, unfurling emotions were the ugliest things in the world.

“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. You went to jail because of him! You lost your life. But I can’t. I just can’t do it. It’s got to end somewhere.”

He was silent. The air in the room grew thick and uncomfortable and heat rushed to my cheeks again. But I was afraid to speak, afraid that something else would break if I did.

“You can’t frame a man who isn’t susceptible to vice, honey.”

Like a string on a violin plucked, I vibrated, and the air vibrated too, shifting from perfect silence to sudden cacophony.

“What are you saying?”

But I thought I knew what he was saying. Rather than setting my father up for some false crime, all Daniel had to do was entice him into committing a real one. Or had he even done that much? From the perspective of the circular chair, everything came together. The past, my childhood