Chapter Eight #3
Jade had baldly told Wyatt where he should look for sex in the future—with himself. Her heart had been compressed by his hurtful actions, and she’d worn that scarlet A to this day, but the real lesson here was that her heart wasn’t safe with anyone. Not when her father had such sweeping power.
And it didn’t matter that Luca had his own power. She didn’t have any.
Especially where Luca was concerned. He’d been incredibly generous with the orgasms, saturating her in caresses and kisses until she’d nearly wept at how good she felt, but she had been so compliant. He must think she was an absolute pushover.
Because she was.
And what was she supposed to do all day? She couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t doing ten things at once, finishing homework on the train, calling her mother while she picked up groceries, answering emails for Giselle while she was having a root canal.
She spent an hour ensuring her mother’s bills were paid, but that only drilled home to her that she was unemployed. The next time she did this, she would have to dig into her emergency fund.
Or trust Luca to cover all her expenses.
That felt wrong. It felt scary. She might not be independently wealthy, but she was fiercely independent and carefully guarded what little agency she had.
It made accepting all the clothes that arrived feel like yet another relinquishment of self. The gowns and lingerie and daywear were all beautiful, no question, but she’d been wined and dined before. Ultimately, she’d been rejected.
So she was already in a state of apprehension when she received a call from Cyril. She answered out of habit, more than anything, and immediately felt her skin crawl.
“His Lordship does not appreciate the spectacle you’re making of yourself,” Cyril said. “Since you have abandoned the arrangement he made for you with the Snells, he presumes all the arrangements he’s made for you and your mother are no longer required. They will cease immediately.”
“He’s cutting us off? Firing Kandili? Does he want his grandchild to live in poverty?” She wasn’t a complete doormat. She did push back when being trampled.
“That relationship will never be acknowledged,” Cyril said in his cool, excruciatingly polite voice.
“He wishes to keep gossip to a minimum, however. Since the rumors pertaining to Mr. Cardillo are likely to be extremely unwelcome, His Lordship doubts you will continue to enjoy his support. His Lordship will consider continuing his arrangements for your mother if you were to quietly resume your position with Ms. Smythe-Camden.”
“What rumors about Luca?” And who started them? As if she didn’t know.
“His Lordship would like all of this to go away as quickly as possible. To that end…” Cyril cleared his throat. “There is a clinic you might visit. It’s very discreet.”
“A—” The blood rushed from her head to her toes and felt as though it leaked onto the floor. She abruptly sat down so she didn’t fall down. “Are you suggesting I terminate my pregnancy?”
“Miscarriages happen.”
She was speechless. Sick. Beyond feeling rejected by her father.
In that moment, she realized that she had been holding out a tiny shred of hope around her relationship with him, but now she understood what a complete fool she was.
How utterly futile all her efforts to please him had been.
He would never offer her a shred of real regard. Of decency. Nothing.
“Ms. Denison?” Cyril prompted.
“I will never acknowledge that relationship, either,” she said in a strained voice, fighting back disillusioned tears. “Don’t contact me again.” She ended the call and blocked him, head swimming, pulse racing, skin breaking out in a clammy sweat.
Where did this leave her, though? If she could no longer turn to her father for help, she would have to rely on another man, one who said she could trust him, but could she?
…rumors pertaining to Mr. Cardillo… Doubts you will continue to enjoy his support…
She dared a quick search online for Luca’s name and sobbed out a noise of agony when she saw the coordinated campaign of “leaked rumors” by “someone close to the couple.” They claimed Luca wasn’t her baby’s father.
Everyone in her father’s circle was sharing it and weighing in.
Even Yardley had posted, I was at that party.
Luca left early. I could name a dozen men more likely to be the father.
The next post by a new, anonymous account was even worse: She’s been around a lot. He’s too smart to let this happen to him again.
They knew about Trieste? And were trying to humiliate him with it?
A string of comments followed, questioning Luca’s judgment. The timing is suspicious. Is he the right man to keep the economy on track if he can’t do simple math?
Such a bout of nausea struck, she had to run to the toilet.
After it passed, she sat on the cold tiles, panting, thoughts scattered. She tried to grasp at what few options were left to her, but there was only one. The nuclear option of plan Z: cut all ties, once and for all.