Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,53

Have you read any of her writing?” He didn’t wait for a response. “But of course you would have. She’s your daughter. You must be so proud of her.”

Helene blinked. “Naturally we’re proud of her. Aren’t we, Mark? Terribly, terribly proud.”

Oh yes. Proud. Sure they were.

It was so fake. Such a lie. They weren’t proud. They’d never been proud.

A sense of calm descended on Christie.

She’d been listening to this sort of stuff all her life. Always there was something wrong with her. Always something that didn’t quite meet the required expectations. Either with her appearance or her job or her choice of boyfriend or any one of a thousand other tiny things.

And she’d let them get away with it. Let them steadily undermine her confidence until there was nothing left. Armoring herself in her heavy-metal T-shirts and her steel-capped boots, pretending that she didn’t care.

All because deep down she was afraid that her family was right.

Well, she wasn’t afraid any longer. There wasn’t anything wrong with her. Hadn’t Joseph shown her that? He’d told her she was perfect. And now it was time to believe him.

“Stop it, Mum,” Christie said quietly, for the first time in her life the words coming out the way they were supposed to, not tangled up and stuttering.

Helene’s green eyes flicked back up to meet her daughter’s. “Stop? Stop what, darling?”

“Stop criticizing me.”

Her mother gave a laugh. “Criticizing you? Darling, I’m not—”

“Yes, you are. That’s all you’ve been doing my whole life.”

Silence.

“Now steady on, Chris.” Her father frowned at her. “I don’t think that’s quite right.”

Christie regarded her father, the calm spreading into a quiet strength she hadn’t known she possessed until this moment. “Isn’t it, Dad? Can you name even one of the articles I’ve written lately?”

“Well…I…of course…it’s…” her father muttered.

“Oh come on, Chris,” Andrew said, sounding bored. “You know no one’s interested in that computer stuff.”

“No, I know. None of you are.”

Helene touched her hair in a nervous-looking gesture. “What nonsense, darling. Anyway, you know me. I just like to point out a few things that you could improve on.”

Beside her, Christie could sense Joseph’s restlessness like static on her skin. He wanted to say something, she knew, but this wasn’t his fight. It was hers. She squeezed his hand. Hard. Then said to her family in the same level tone, “I don’t need improving.”

“Everyone needs—”

“No, Mum. I don’t.”

Helene’s jaw looked tight. “I’m just trying to help you, Christie.”

“Well, I don’t need help.” Christie lifted her chin, swept her gaze over them. “All you’re doing is making me feel small and plain and insignificant.”

Her mother’s eyes went wide, an odd expression crossing her face. Her father gaped like one of the slack-jawed zombies Christie liked to shoot in her games, his cheeks reddening as if he was embarrassed. Andrew scowled. He opened his mouth to speak, but Christie raised a sharp finger. “No, Andrew. I have something to say.”

Gratifyingly, her brother shut up.

“I know you’re not interested in the stuff that I am,” she went on firmly, a fierce edge entering her voice as she looked each of her family members in the eye. “I know you don’t care about it like I do. But I’m sick of feeling like I disappointed you. I’m sick of feeling like I don’t measure up. I have so many things to be proud of. And you know what? My family isn’t one of those things.” She took a breath. “I always wanted to be one of you. To feel like I fit in. But right now I’m glad I don’t. Because I’m really disappointed in you. You all kind of suck.”

Her mother had gone quite pale, while her father spluttered. Her brother looked anywhere but at her.

“Thanks for the party invite, Mum,” she continued, remaining calm, “but I won’t be coming back here again until I get an apology for the way you’ve treated me all these years.” She gripped tight to Joseph’s hand. “Come on, Joseph. I don’t think we need to stay.”

A surge of adrenaline went through her, making her want to tremble. But not from fear this time. This time it was all about satisfaction.

And as she turned and left her shocked family standing there gaping, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

For the first time in years she felt free.

Joseph followed Christie down the expansive hallway and out onto the veranda, where there were some steps leading down to the driveway and the scent of wisteria in

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