Chapter 17
Holden
H is poor little siren looked exactly like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. Eyes wide, pupils blown with what was clearly fear, it might have been funny if the whole situation hadn’t been so serious.
Then she blinked, and the terror fled from her face, leaving behind an expression that was so carefully blank he wondered for a moment if he’d actually seen what he’d thought he’d seen.
“So, what are my rules? You said you’d still be my Daddy in a discipline sense with rules and stuff so… what are the rules?”
The switch-up from scared babygirl to curious woman was so jarring, he had to take a moment to mentally adjust to the new conversation. “Much the same as they have been. Following your eating plan, keeping your therapy appointments. We can discuss and adjust as we go along if necessary.”
Something flickered in her eyes at the mention of her therapy appointments, but he couldn’t quite make it out because she almost immediately lowered her gaze to the table. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Francesca. Look at me, please.”
Lifting her head, she did a damn good impression of a haughty brat, raised eyebrow and all, as she looked at him. “Yes?”
“When is your therapy appointment?”
“Wednesday.”
Hmm. Maybe he was reading too much into her actions, but years of experience as a Daddy told him she wasn’t being honest. “What time?”
“Umm. Two-thirty, I think. Something like that.”
“All right. I’ll let the team know I’ll be taking the afternoon off.”
“No!” Pink bloomed on her cheeks, and she actually looked a bit sheepish at her outburst. “I just mean, you don’t have to do that. Lottie is going to take me. She used to come with me all the time, and I think I’d just feel better with her there.”
That was fair enough. Making a mental note to check with Braden that Lottie was actually planning to take Frankie to the doctor, he picked up one of his long-forgotten pieces of bacon. “That will be fine for now. But if you miss even a single appointment, not only will you be rescheduling that appointment with a very sore bottom, I will take over for Lottie until I can trust you to keep your appointments. Am I understood?”
“Yeah.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he pinned her with a stare until the pink in her cheeks darkened and she pulled her bottom lip between her perfect white teeth. “How do you address me, Francesca?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Fuck. Those words were harder to hear than he’d thought after their conversation. But he swallowed his own misery and focused on giving her what she needed. “Good girl. Finish your yogurt and then you’re free to spend your day however you like, as long as you keep me up to date on where you’ll be and with who.”
Wrinkling her nose, she scooped up another bite of yogurt and berries. “I think you’re taking this Daddy thing a little too literally.”
“I take my role as your Daddy very seriously, Francesca. Something to keep in mind while you’re making your decision.”
Pain stabbed at him. The thought of giving her the space and freedom to turn her back on him, on them, yet again was like a knife to the chest. But it was what she needed. What she deserved, since he hadn’t really given her that space the first time around. He was damn well going to give it to her now, and hopefully she’d realize sooner rather than later where she truly belonged.
In his bed, in his arms, over his knee.
Forever.
Frankie
It was weird, living in Holden’s house without him hovering over her every second of the day. Ever since his declaration the day before, he’d given her plenty of space around the house. They’d ended up watching a movie together after dinner, but only because she’d asked if he wanted to, not because he’d set their schedule like he had every day before.
She still wasn’t sure how she felt about all this newfound freedom.
Especially since now she was on her way to the college to meet her father and Dean Michaels. Because her father had the kind of money that demanded an in-person meeting with the dean of the whole damn school. Holden had raised an eyebrow when she’d told him she was going out for the day, but he hadn’t asked any questions. He’d only pressed a yogurt into her hand, instructed her to send him a picture of her lunch if she wasn’t home before then, and told her to have a good day.
If he’d questioned her about her plans for the day, she would have caved eventually. Knowing him, he would have insisted on coming with her no matter how much she tried to argue that she could handle her father on her own.
And as she sat in the parking lot of the school, staring up at the old brick building with her anxiety squeezing the air from her lungs, she couldn’t help but wish he had pressed. Had forced himself into the situation like so many times before. Even Francis Legare would think twice about arguing with a man five inches taller and a solid fifty pounds of muscle heavier than him. And if the physical differences didn’t scare him, Holden wasn’t without his own connections. He could more than hold his own against her father.
Maybe she should call him. Tell him the truth and let Daddy step in and fix everything.
Gripping the handle of her car door harder, she gave herself a mental shake. No. This was her mess and she was going to be a big girl and fix it herself. If for no other reason than to prove to herself, and him, that she could. That if she needed to, she could survive without him.
Wasn’t that what their whole conversation had been about yesterday? Proving to both of them that she was with him because she wanted to be, not just because she was too weak and pathetic to make it on her own?
Driven by that determination, she shoved open the car door and made her way toward the old brick building.
She found her father in the waiting room of the dean’s office, not looking any happier than he’d sounded on the phone. When she stepped into the spacious, richly decorated area, his gaze raked down her form, earning her a small nod of approval for the demure, flowing dress she’d chosen for the meeting. Some of the anxiety gripping her eased, but not enough for her to actually breathe.
And even that little bit of relief fled when the dean’s secretary looked up and gestured toward his door. “Dean Michaels will see you now.”
Together as one, father and daughter stepped forward. Inside, Frankie recoiled a bit at the realization of how alike they were, even in such small things like how they moved.
Brainwashing runs deep , she thought bitterly to herself as she followed her father into the dean’s office.
Dean Michaels remained seated behind his desk, a smug, knowing smile curving his lips. And in that moment, she knew without a doubt her suspension wouldn’t be lifted.
Thank god.
“Francis, Francesca. Have a seat, please.”
Without speaking—because that was her father’s role, at least for now—Frankie settled in one of the plush visitor’s chairs, her spine straight and her head held high. Her father settled in the other, choosing by contrast to relax back into the comfortable leather, giving the impression of a man at ease with nothing to lose.
Score one for the Legares.
Behind his desk, Dean Michaels could barely contain his glee, and Frankie was left wondering exactly what her father had done to make this man despise him so much. Because she was absolutely certain he’d done something to earn the pure hatred sparking in the dean’s eyes.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Beau,” her father drawled from his relaxed position beside her. No rush, no urgency. Because Legares never let anyone hurry them. “How much is it going to take to get my daughter back into her classes where she belongs?”
You could have at least pretended there was some kind of mistake, dad. Plead my case a bit before offering to buy off the fucking dean.
But of course he hadn’t. Because that would have spared her at least some embarrassment. And since she’d humiliated him, however unintentionally, this was her punishment. Swallowing hard, she willed back the heat threatening to rise to her cheeks, pretending with all her might that his words weren’t affecting her at all.
Across from them, Dean Michaels smiled even more broadly than before, without even attempting a hint of sympathy or understanding as he spread his hands palms up in front of him. “As I told you at the club, Francis, there’s simply nothing we can do. If Francesca’s grades were even a little bit higher, I might be able to work something out. But the fact is, she’s fallen too far behind to have any hope of catching up this semester and no amount of money is going to fix that.”
“Then we’ll get her a tutor. And I’m sure the professors would be willing to work with her, given enough… incentive.”
If you put enough zeros on that check, you mean.
“I’m sorry, Francis. There really is nothing I can do.”
“Bullshit.” The temper her father had been keeping rather admirably in check so far started to push through his words, the sharp edge of it threatening to slice Dean Michaels clean in two. “There is always something a man in your position can do.”
“Not in this case. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. I refuse to compromise the integrity of this university so some spoiled brat can buy her way back in.”
Ouch. That ‘spoiled brat’ remark landed hard in Frankie's chest, and it was all she could do not to visibly wince. She liked to think she wasn’t as spoiled as people assumed, but given how her father was acting she couldn’t blame him for the accusation, either.
Her father let out a snort of disbelief. “You act as though this is an Ivy League university instead of some second-rate medical school. Francesca had offers from Harvard and Colombia. She chose this school, for reasons that still escape me. You should be kissing her feet, begging for her to stay.”
“Then perhaps she should give one of those fine institutions a call, see if they still have space for her. But her suspension stands. She’ll be welcome back next fall, but if she isn’t able to keep up then, she’ll be expelled for good. My decision is final, Francis.”
Rising to his feet in that same slow, deliberate way he had back in the waiting room, her father tugged at the bottom of his jacket, the only outward show of his fury. “You will regret this. Come, Francesca. We’re done here.”
With that, he turned on his heel and strode for the door.
Torn between the relief of not having to return to school yet and the terror of what her father might have to say about it when he got her alone, she pushed slowly to her feet and made to follow him out the door. But at the last minute, she turned to face Dean Michaels again, who was watching her now with a hint of curiosity.
“I’m sorry about this, Dean Michaels. You did the right thing, suspending me. I… I’m clearly not ready for this but I’m going to do everything in my power to get ready. I appreciate you giving me a second chance and I promise I won’t waste it.”
He watched her for a moment before his expression shifted, sympathy replacing the gleeful hatred he’d held for her father. “You’re an exceptional student, Francesca. Whatever is going on with you right now, I hope you don’t let it hold you back from becoming an even more exceptional doctor.”
Warmth filled her at his words, and she gave him a small nod before opening the door and heading to face her doom.
She found her father pacing in front of the building, agitation pouring off him in waves. Standing just off to the side, she watched him for a bit before finding the courage to speak. “I’m sorry.”
Wrong thing to say, judging by the fury in his eyes when he stopped pacing to glare at her. Then again, she wasn’t sure there was a right thing to say in this instance.
“You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say after the way you’ve humiliated our family, yet again?”
The reminder that this wasn’t the first time she’d brought shame to the Legare name didn’t escape her. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Nothing. Because there is nothing you can say to make up for being such an utter fucking failure. You’ve been nothing but a disappointment to me from the day your mother learned she was having a girl instead of the boy we’d been promised.”
Shock had her mouth falling open. “That’s not how having a baby works, dad. You don’t get to pick and choose.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “With enough money you can choose whatever you want, Francesca. Unfortunately for us, we didn’t choose carefully enough.”
If he’d hauled off and physically slapped her, she didn’t think she could be any more shocked. Or hurt. God, it hurt, having the truth she’d always suspected finally confirmed.
“I’m going to go.” Her voice was wooden, hollow even to her own ears. “Bye, dad.”
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Francesca! We aren’t finished here!”
You might not be, but I am . Without bothering to respond, she made a beeline straight for her car and backed out of the spot without even bothering to put her seatbelt on. Tires squealing, she raced for the exit, then for the interstate. She rolled the windows down as she drove, dragging in deep lungfuls of the fresh air slapping her in the face.
Lottie. She needed Lottie. Even if Lottie didn’t have any answers for her, she’d be a good shoulder to cry on.
Just as Frankie was about to press the button on her screen to call her friend, the wail of sirens pierced the air and flashing lights filled her rearview mirror.
A quick glance at her speedometer told her she was going nearly thirty miles over the posted speed limit. With a groan, she pressed on the brakes and guided her car to the side of the road.
Daddy was going to be pissed .