21. Maeve
CHAPTER 21
MAEVE
My heart hammers as I do my best to pull the dress down to a more decent length and follow my father into the house.
I tuck my chin and stare at my feet, hoping to hide the tattoo, some shred of my modesty. It feels like my very soul is on display, and I’m stretched so thin I’m close to breaking.
I won’t dare raise my head for fear of meeting the judgmental gazes of those around me. Heat radiates off my father’s back, and following his footsteps is painful. The disappointment is so intense it pierces my skin. After what Diego told me, I don’t think he’s a decent man. I’m actually sure he’s evil, but part of me still wants his approval more than air, and knowing I have the opposite right now stings.
There aren’t any people staring at me. I’m all alone in this house. I lie to myself to keep my feet moving forward. I can’t take all the shame swelling inside me, and I know more than anything I can’t cry right now. My father doesn’t tolerate tears. When we leave, I won’t be able to cry either. Diego will only consider that a win, encouragement to keep doing these awful things to me to get his pound of flesh.
Diego keeps pushing my boundaries, and I hate myself for finding it exhilarating up until this moment. Shouldn’t I have realized sooner that I was the one who was going to have to live with the consequences of my own actions? I don’t want this relationship with my family. In fact, I’m grateful for him forcefully removing me from them, but fuck, it still hurts so bad.
Maura is a bitch, a mean and terrible person I don’t even like, and I’ve spent my life working and hoping for her approval. This right here is why I stole cars because no matter how good I was, I couldn’t fucking win. No one has ever wanted good Maeve. Not my dad, or my bitch aunt, not the directors casting their perfectly thin prima ballerinas. Why work so hard at being something that didn’t please them anyway?
None of that stops the painful anxiety as Dad navigates the house like it belongs to him. He opens the door to the first-floor office and goes in without looking over his shoulder to see if I’m following. When I step inside, I close the door behind us even though a warning shiver tells me not to make this any more private. That will only make things worse for me.
He turns once he reaches the desk, his hand over his hips, wearing a stern expression. I finally look up, stark fear radiating through me as I realize Dad’s eyes point at my throat. Thunder rolls over his expression as he processes a million thoughts.
“There’s not one day in your life that you weren’t a disappointment, Maeve.”
I flinch, his words cutting deeper than the healing wound on my hand. I expected all of this, but it’s still agony. My heart breaks for the girl trying her best to be good for her dad. She never had a chance. I should have faced this reality and given up long ago, saving myself the heartache.
“Marrying your stepbrother? Dressed like a whore?” he fumes. There aren’t words in the world for his disgust, but his eyes sure say it.
“Daddy...” I start like I know how to finish that sentence. I don’t. I can’t explain my behavior to him because he doesn’t know who I am. In all the ways that matter, we are strangers to one another.
He raises his hand to cut me off. “That filthy tattoo around your neck? What is wrong with you?”
The words die on my tongue. So many things are wrong with me but what does it matter now? It’s done. We’re standing here being who we are, and it doesn’t matter what I say; he won’t understand. Our choices have already been made, and there’s no going back. So I tell a partial truth.
“I’m so sorry.”
It’s true because I am sorry. Not for how I’m dressed or for the tattoo, though I didn’t choose either. They are the least of my worries. I’m sorry because I’m not the daughter he wished for. I’m sorry I couldn’t fit in the Sinclair mold, and now I grew too big to be contained.
Dad lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. For a second, I think I made him cry, but I should have known better than to expect any softness from him. When he raises his face, it’s hard and unforgiving.
“You are just a fucking little whore. Just like your mother.”
The words are a slap to the face. He’s never spoken ill of her in front of me before, and frankly, I didn’t know her that well before her passing. I was raised by nannies. Still, it hurts to hear him talk about a woman I miss and wish I’d known more deeply.
I step back, confused, but he doesn’t give me time to recoup, marching toward me until my back is against the door and he’s towering over me.
“You’re a miserable bitch who thinks you can drag this family’s name through the mud. I should fucking kill you for this.”
His hands twist in their rage, and I’m sure he wishes he could. That if I were to say the wrong thing, he would kill me. Despite everything Diego has done to me, I’ve never been as afraid in my life as I am at this moment.
This is the first time I’ve ever heard him curse like this. I know he can be a mean drunk, but he always stayed far from me when he was drinking. I didn’t realize he was this combustible. I’m shaking from head to toe, the hatred in my dad’s eyes so raw I take a second to understand this is really happening. He despises me.
“From now on, I’ll keep you on a leash, Maeve,” he says. “Starting with the removal of that tattoo.”
My hand flies to my throat. I don’t know why it shocks me. “Diego is?—”
“An annulment is the second order of business,” he continues, as if his plan is obvious.
“An annulment?” I shake my head. Should I tell him that he’s fucking with the most powerful man in the city? That if Diego isn’t protecting me from Cygnus, he might come to my father’s door instead? I don’t do either of those things, afraid of what he might do if he knew more.
“Yes. You won’t be a twenty-year-old divorcée.”
“I’m twenty-two,” I answer with a sniff. I’m his only child, and he doesn’t even know how old I am.
“I don’t give a shit how old you are. We’re going to fix your damn neck and arrange a marriage to someone old enough that he doesn’t care about what you’ve done to your reputation. Until then, you can live with me.”
The suggestion sends a slithering sensation of disgust through my entire body. He plans on moving me back to his house. I’m supposed to report from ballet back to his house and no place else. He’ll find someone else to marry me. Someone who can tame me.
Tame me.
“No.” I shake my head.
He’s still talking, barely aware of my words, but the world is closing in on me, and I can’t take it anymore. There is no way in hell I’m doing any of that.
“Dad, no!” I shout, finally speaking loudly enough to get his damn attention off his own monologue.
“No, what?” His teeth audibly grind together.
I start from the obvious. “The marriage can’t be annulled. I agreed. I knew what I was doing. I—” I nearly tell him that I’ve fucked Diego quite a few times, and no judge would buy it. “I won’t move to your house. This is madness.”
He pushes even closer to my face. His face contorts in rage, and I recognize this expression well enough, though it’s rarely been aimed at me. Every inch of his body threatens violence, and I wonder what he would think if he knew for all his tattoos, Diego is more of a gentleman than he is.
“You’re going to do what I tell you to do.”
His hand closes around my arm. Fingers dig into me so hard, my blood vessels break beneath the pressure. He’s still holding on, while a bruise is forming. This hurts so much worse than the tattoo, and I know the mark is going to be brutal. It always is.
“Dad, please...” I try to shake him off, but it doesn’t work.
“You are a disgrace . Marrying your stepbrother. You disgust me.”
I’m not looking at him, so my only warning is the sound of him gathering the spit in his mouth, and then it lands on my cheek. Hot tears pour from my eyes. The humiliation is bigger than anything Diego has planned. Nothing hurts more than your own dad doing this to you. His spit drips hot mixed with my tears.
“Enough crying. Let’s go.”
He tries to push me out the door, but I won’t move. I’m too upset, too stunned, and I don’t want to be anywhere near him. When I don’t obey him, he lands a slap right over his spit. The impact stings even worse because of the moisture. My hand flies to my cheek, feeling the shape of his hand already imprinted there.
Why do parents know so well how to destroy their own children?
“Let me go,” I say.
He shakes me again. “So you can parade around dressed like a whore? No. You’ve embarrassed me for the last time.”
He grabs me by my hair, pulling hard until I’m at his side where he wants me. He intends to drag me out of here like this if he has to. My father has never cared about me, but rather what I can do for his reputation. Now that he knows I’m nothing but a problem, he’ll lock me away.
I wouldn’t be the first problem Sinclair to never see the light of day again.
“Dad, please,” I beg, trying to pull my arm out of his grip. I know his aim is to hurt me, so I don’t argue how bad this hurts, but it does. I try again to remove my arm, but he was pushed past his limits today, and much like Diego, he won’t stop until someone pays. He can’t let me go. It’s a lost cause. There’s no reason in his eyes, just rage.
“Maeve.” The door swings open, and Diego arrives. My heart beats faster at his presence, but I can’t tell if it’s fear or relief since everything around me is so intense. Quickly, Dad lets me go, his image important enough to stop him from acting his worst in front of anyone. I use his hesitation to back away toward Diego.
“Any problems?” Diego asks, watching my dad with an unreasonable expression.
“No,” I say, and rather than wait to hear what either of them has to say, I turn around and leave.
Fuck Dad.
Fuck Diego.
Fuck them all.