11. Elle
Chapter 11
Elle
F or the rest of the week, I felt like I was walking on air. My body ached with the pleasant soreness of well-used muscles after having so many mind-blowing orgasms with Vincent.
It wasn’t just the sex that had my head in the clouds though. Eating leftover Thai takeout with him for breakfast had felt…domestic. I loved it when he guided my feet into his lap while he checked his email on his laptop. It seemed comforting and natural. I wasn’t used to that level of easy familiarity with another person.
In my family, there had never been this kind of warmth. My father pitted me against my sister—or pitted me against other students—in an effort to toughen me up. Everyone else was competition, and if I didn’t dominate the situation in order to come out on top at all costs, I was a disgrace.
I hesitated to call this thing between me and Vincent love, but it seemed to be developing into…something. There were times when I caught myself daydreaming about the future. After graduation. After college was far behind me. I could envision a gold band on Vincent’s ring finger. I could envision myself calling him my husband instead of my professor.
Or maybe that was just the rush of hormones talking.
On Saturday morning, I tugged a hoodie over my pajamas and trudged to the dining hall with a yawn. Since it was the weekend, Vincent would probably be home. Maybe I’d drop by and surprise him. There was a cute little lingerie boutique in Port Crowne. I smiled at the thought of Vincent seeing me in a brand new lacy red bra.
My fantasy came screeching to a halt as soon as I stepped into the dining hall. It was packed with people—mostly students, but there were parents everywhere, along with professors, clustered in groups, chatting. Blue and white streamers and balloons filled the hall, displaying the school’s colors. A buffet table was bursting with food along one wall—cakes, cookies, and punch. A banner stretched across the width of the room that read: Happy Family Weekend!
Shit. I completely forgot.
Even though my father never made an appearance at Family Weekend, I usually did my best to dodge the event anyway. Seeing other students with their parents, showing off the campus with excitement, was a bitter pill to swallow.
As I turned to leave, a flurry of activity caught my attention at the other end of the room. My father came into view, with Helene beside him. Dean Wilcox escorted them into the hall, introducing professors that groveled as my father passed them by.
“It’s an honor to have you here at our beloved university, Mr. Roche,” Dean Wilcox said. “Your financial contributions to the continuing education of our students are greatly appreciated. Can I interest you in some refreshments?”
“Actually, Franklin, I’m not here on business,” Dad replied.
I whirled on my heel, every muscle tensed and ready to run. I needed to get the hell out of here. Now.
Before I could make my escape, Helene’s syrup-sweet voice rang out, cutting through the buzz of conversation in the hall.
“Giselle! There you are.”
Every head turned to look at me as my sister forged through the crowd and hugged me. I froze. My first reaction was nothing but a shocked what the fuck?
But I knew what this was. A performance for the public. We were the happy family—a rich, doting father and his beautiful, successful daughters, poised to take over his powerhouse firm.
I couldn’t breathe. Helene’s perfume was cloying—practically metallic and bitter. Her silk blouse felt like a spider’s web, smothering me. She kissed my cheek and locked an iron arm around my shoulders.
“Here she is, Daddy.”
He leveled his gray eyes on me and flicked his fingers in a get over here right now gesture. But he smiled at Dean Wilcox, maintaining his charming facade.
“I thought I’d pay my daughter a visit,” Dad said. “I’ve been working so hard, and Giselle has been studying so much, that we rarely get to see each other these days.”
All the color drained from my face. I flushed hot and then icy cold from head to toe. He did this on purpose—publicly tying me to him in front of everyone so I couldn’t be Elle anymore. I was now Giselle Roche, whether I liked it or not. I had no choice in the matter.
Helene shoved me toward him. I tried to shrug off her arm, but she tightened her grip, marching me to Dad’s side.
“Stop fidgeting,” she hissed through her teeth.
“This isn’t what we agreed to,” I shot back. “I wasn’t going to be in the public eye while I was in college.”
“Keep your voice down,” Helene spat. “Yes, we all know you crumble under pressure. So, you needed to hide. But this nonsense about changing your major had to be stopped.”
I knew it. I knew this moment would come. Helene had tattled on me like the little rat she always was.
“I hate you,” I ground out.
Helene flashed a smile for the public and pinched my arm hard enough to make me squirm.
“I’m doing what’s best for my little sister.”
I elbowed her in the side hard. She released me with a grunt and a scathing look.
“Giselle,” Dad said, looking me up and down with disapproval. I tugged at the sleeves of my hoodie, wishing I could melt through the floor. “It seems you don’t remember what I taught you about making a good impression.”
I clenched my teeth together, fighting the urge to snap at him. That would only make me look even worse in front of everyone. Dad was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, ten-thousand-dollar cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. I still wore my pajamas, and I hadn’t bothered to do anything with my hair aside from a messy ponytail.
“I didn’t know you were coming today, Dad,” I muttered.
He scoffed, glancing around to draw the onlookers into our private discussion.
“The job of a parent is never done, right? I send my child into the world to better herself with an education, and she turns lazy, partying her life away without her father to guide her with a firm hand.”
A few murmurs of agreement swept through the crowd. Dean Wilcox clucked his tongue in dismay. I boiled inside.
Then a familiar voice filled the hall—clear, eloquent, crisp, and strong.
“I would hardly call Miss Roche lazy.”
Vincent stood in the entryway of the hall, wearing a tight fitted black turtleneck, slacks, and a pair of sleek, wire rimmed glasses that made him look like a model out of a GQ magazine. A copy of the school newspaper was in his hand. My heart leaped at the sight of him.
“What would you know of my daughter’s work ethic, Mr…?” my father trailed off.
Vincent removed his glasses, folded them with measured patience. Making my father wait was one hell of a power move. He was used to calling the shots, making people cower before him. Vincent showed no indication of quailing before my father. Crossing the room, he held out his hand.
“Professor Stonebridge,” he said. “It was a pleasure to have your daughter in one of my classes.”
That put Dad back on his heels a bit. Vincent was a well-known teacher on campus. If my father challenged or contradicted what Vincent said in public, surrounded by teachers and students, he might find himself losing favor. At last, he shook Vincent’s hand.
“Glad to hear it, Professor.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing the future Miss Roche creates for herself.”
Damn. That was a pointed jab, right to the chink in my father’s armor. Dad’s eyes went cold and flat.
“Giselle’s future is already clearly laid out for her. There’s no doubt in my mind she will be a successful business woman one day. She is my daughter after all.”
He awkwardly put a hand on my shoulder, stiff and territorial. Vincent’s gaze flicked to me for the briefest of moments. The fact that I couldn’t go to him right now was torture. I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted him to be the one offering a reassuring touch.
But we couldn’t do that. Not in public. Not while I was still enrolled at the university.
I’d been so wrapped up watching the volley between my father and Vincent that I forgot to keep track of my sister. She sidled up to Vincent like a snake, taking his arm.
“It’s so good to meet you, Professor Stonebridge,” she purred. “I’m Giselle’s older sister, Helene. You know, in my college days, none of my teachers looked anything like you.”
She smoothed her hand down his bicep with a squeeze. A red haze clouded my vision. She was flirting with him. In front of me.
A logical voice in the back of my mind said Helene didn’t know Vincent and I were together. Not that it mattered. She probably would have flirted with him to make me jealous anyway. I couldn’t say a word, couldn’t warn her to get her hands off my man.
And to make matters worse, they made an attractive couple. Helene wore a snug pencil skirt that accentuated her slim figure, black pumps as slick as an oil spill, and her hair was pinned up in an immaculate French twist. Even though she was still younger than him by a significant margin, she was closer in age than I was.
My throat tightened. I fought to take in a gulp of air. This was all going horribly wrong…
“Why don’t you show me around, Professor?” Helene said. “I’d love a private tour of the campus, just the two of us.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Dad said. “You’ll enjoy her company, Professor. Helene has always been an intellectually brilliant conversationalist.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. Watching my sister lead Vincent away was a nightmare come true.
Dad grabbed my arm with a plastic, well-practiced smile for his audience, and pulled me into a nearby hall.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed.
“I bet you’re about to tell me,” I replied.
“This is unacceptable, Giselle. You show up in public looking like you crawled out of a goddamn dumpster. And your sister informed me that you were thinking about changing your major. So, I contacted the school.”
I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. The back of my neck prickled with the heat of shame.
“Why the hell are you studying English now?” Dad continued. “It’s a waste of my time and money.”
“But I like it,” I said. “I want—”
I broke off. Dad raised his eyebrows and spread his hands.
“You want what, Giselle? Do you want to embarrass me in front of the whole world? Do you want to make us the laughing stock? Tell me what you’re going to do with a degree in English.”
My tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of my mouth. I still didn’t have an answer to that question. Dad crossed his arms.
“Just as I thought. You have no clue what you’re doing. I informed the school that there has been a mistake. You’re studying business admin, like I told you to in the first place.”
A roaring started in my ears.
“No. No, you can’t… do that.”
“I’m paying for your degree. I can do whatever the hell I want.”
I sputtered, feeling as if my heart had been ripped in two. My grades were improving. I was happy.
And now…I felt like I had plummeted straight to the ground without a parachute. As long as my father could wield his money over my head, I would never be free from his control.
I squared my shoulders, knowing I’d been backed into a corner and there was only one option left.
“Then I quit.”