Chapter 2 - Adrianna
ADRIANNA
Idon’t even give my father a second glance as I pass him. I’m too upset that he’s off on another business trip just when we need him the most.
As if I was going to stay at college when there’re death threats on my family.
But as usual, my father is completely oblivious to anything except his business interests and accumulating more money.
I feel the eyes of the security guard on me as I walk away, and I give my hips an extra swing.
I wasn’t expecting to find a security guard with muscles so big he can barely get his arms by his sides.
He has a hardness about him that makes me want to make him crack, split him open to see what’s on the inside.
Knowing his eyes are on me, I accidentally on purpose let my bag slide off my arm and drop to the concrete.
“Oops.”
My hands go to my mouth, and without turning around, I bend right over, making sure my ass sticks up in the air as I retrieve my bag.
Some women would hate their body if it was my size, but I love my 1950s curves and my wide hips and round ass. And this is what I give Bronn a good view of now.
I take my time gathering the straps of my bag and add a little hip sway into the routine. I hope my father’s watching as well.
I hope he sees the lengths I’ll go to for attention. I hope it’s enough to make him dismiss the driver and stay.
The sound of the car door slamming and the Merc pulling away let me know that my over-the-top entrance was all in vain. Dad’s gone and left Mom alone again.
Looks like it’s up to me to pick up the pieces.
Gathering up the bag, I stand up quickly and, without looking back, flounce into the house.
It’s a few hours later when I go to find Mom. She’s at the kitchen table with a drink of “water,” which we all know is gin. But I don’t call her on it. If I was married to Dad, I’d be drinking too.
I slip into the seat next to her, trying not to let the chair scrape against the floor. Too late. It scrapes against the stone tiles, and my mom cringes.
“Do you have to make so much noise?”
There’s no point in telling her it was just a chair scraping. Mom’s got a nervous disposition, so anything louder than a mouse fart gives her a headache.
“Sorry, Mom.”
She turns her gaze on me, and her eyes run over my outfit and my exposed cleavage. Her look turns to disgust.
“Do you always have to dress like a whore?”
My jaw clenches, and I go perfectly still. It’s not herself talking, I have to remind myself. It’s a product of the mental health issues my father refuses to recognize.
Taking a deep breath, I let the words wash over me. Instead of rising to the insult, I put on a breezy smile.
“Only when it’s hot like this.” My voice comes out shriller than I had hoped, and I make myself take another deep breath.
I knew coming home wasn’t going to be easy.
“So why the guard?”
I know exactly what’s going on here thanks to the great relationship I have with my father’s executive assistant.
I wouldn’t call Marie a spy, but I do make an effort to call her every week for a chat and to find out what’s going on that my father won’t tell me.
Which means I know about the latest round of threats.
But I want to know how much Mom knows. She looks at me confused.
“What guard?”
Oh, boy. She’s worse than I thought.
“The security guard out front. Looks like Rambo but cuter.”
Mom looks at me sharply, suddenly completely lucid. “Only a whore would ogle the house staff.”
Oh, great. We’re back to the whore remarks. This time it’s not so easy to let it wash over me. I push my chair back, not caring how loud the noise is, and take some satisfaction in seeing Mom wince.
I came back because I was worried about her, but I should have been more worried about myself.
Mom thinks I’m a whore, so I’ll give her what she wants. I can be a cock tease if that’s what she thinks I am, and I’ll have fun doing it.
Maybe her complaints will be enough to get Dad back.