CHAPTER 6

Grace

Grace 24, Dean 32

Tonight, I had two choices.

Obey my father—

or watch Daphne die in that locked attic.

Even a little measure of using the power room would be used against me. The gun pointing at the head would, at any time, fire a bullet and end the life.

I would have merrily taken the bullet, but the problem was that the gun was pointing at Daphne, who was locked in the attic. Still unconscious, not because of the drug she took last night, but more because the drug was pushed into her system by our father.

This was how Mayor Hale fulfilled most of his wicked wishes. He was aware of my weakness and never hesitated to take advantage of that. He probably understood my vulnerability as a liberty he could hold whenever, wherever, however he wished. Little did he know, I was losing my patience. 

While yes, Daphne was my responsibility. Yes, I vowed to protect her from all the cruelty of this world. And yes, I took my promises as seriously as our father took the upcoming election.

Yet, my sympathy was coming to an end. 

I pitied Daphne once upon a time. I cried seeing her sleeping on her own vomit; my heart broke when there was a red mark on her cheeks, which she got after her boyfriend slapped her, and my soul ground down when Jenny mistreated her.

But those feelings were hardly in my heart now.

Over the years, her self-destructive nature turned my empathy into annoyance and my cries into exhaustion. Honestly, I wanted nothing to do with her and her messy, complicated life.

She was an adult now. At twenty-six, yet she behaved like some teenager who had no clue about the real world. And trust me, I despised her for this.

Yes, I felt hostility toward my sister. My blood.

“The dinner was nice. The food was scrumptious, but it’s the company that takes the prize.” Peter said it behind me, which instantly made me clench my teeth. “The weather is nice. Not too cold, not hot.” I nodded my head, and he grinned with a satisfied hum.

Every time this man was near me, he would invade my personal space by standing close to me. Too close, where I could inhale his vanilla perfume and felt his hot breath on the nape of my neck. 

I loathed him. More than Daphne.

“After the last little incident where you clearly misunderstood me, I didn't expect you to find tonight's dinner, actually.” He swirled his wine glass, retaining his golden-brown eyes strictly on me. “I hope you realized how wrong you were to judge me that night.”

I was anything but wrong that night. This fucking bastard who was almost the same age as my father pulled me into the dark corner and tried to kiss me. All that happened in the charity he organized regarding women's safety was two weeks ago.

Yes, this was the theme this jerk was endorsing for the upcoming election. Predators like him was the reason women today hardly feel safe outside their homes. Even homes were perilous if there was a single individual similar to Senator Peter.

“Your father is a good man. I liked him. He is doing great work for this society. We need more like him. For the sake of your father, I am ready to forget and forgive your little mistake.” He lowered his head to my neck and took a deep breath. “But let me make this clear, Grace. I like you too, and I want you. And I have the habit of getting what I want. This time it's you, diamond. So, next time when I am trying to kiss you, don't fucking kick me in my balls.” Suddenly something cold touched my shoulder.

Did this bastard just lick me?

I turned and stared at him, not sure what just happened. 

It happened; he did it. His disgusting laugh was saying everything I needed to know.

“Goodnight, diamond.” He winked at me before leaving the balcony through the door that led him to the living room.

Men's gaze was always on me. Whether I was performing in the tags or in a social event with my father, men never stopped staring at me. They glanced at me with loneliness, lust, and temptation in their eyes. Their vision swept me from head to toe with delicacy; they tore every piece of my clothing with their eyes, and some even fucked me in those events in their minds.

Yet, no man, I repeat, no man was ever brave enough to say a word to me. They maintained their desire well, just the way a man should. 

But not this one. This fucking old fat man who was thrice my age, a disgusting pig, licked my shoulder.

I sprinted through the entire house just to get to my bedroom. Peeling off my mulberry satin evening gown, nude heels, and, of course, the stupid diamond studs, I jumped in the shower. Turning the water as hot as my body could take, I soaked for forty minutes to wash away all the dirt.

Yet somehow I felt his touch in my body. No matter how many times I washed my shoulder with my coconut shower gel, it refused to go away.

“I hate him, I hate him. I fucking hate him.” My heart screamed as I fell under the hot shower with silent tears in my eyes.

When I came out of the shower, Daphne was sitting on my bed, popping strawberries in her mouth while reading my journal. I strode toward her and snatched my diary from her grasp.

“Oh come on, Grace, I just got to the interesting part. Don't spoil my fun like this. Give it to me.” She held her hands toward me.

Without caring about her enjoyment, I placed the diary in my drawer and locked it. 

“You are so boring, little sister.” She yawned as she threw the last strawberry leaves on my bed. “Did he kiss you? Tell me, babe. Did your producer kiss you or not?” I rolled my eyes at her and shook my head.

“I am sure he didn't. Men like exciting women. A creative man like him undoubtedly wants his women to be enthusiastic, advantageous, and passionate. He wants his woman to take him to the edge, rock his world before giving him the best climax of his life. You are none of them.” 

Paying attention to her words meant jabbing a blunt cutter in my heart until the blood declined to drain from this body. Been there, endured it, not going there tonight or ever again.

“I am sure if he kissed you the next moment, he would regret that. If he didn't, he went home with one of the hottest women from the bar and fucked her until she was too weak to walk.” She stared at me with a sweet smile, but all I could feel was revulsion.

“Now, tell me what happened. Did he kiss you and regret the last moment or have the best fuck of his life?” She continued when I ebbed and joined in her sickening interest. “This is why men like me. Your silence wounds their ego while my liveliness wipes away their exhaustion.”

“Why are you here? Do you need something?” I wrote on the pad and turned toward her to read.

“You make me sound like a selfish bitch, sissy.” She pouted her lips.

“And you are not?” I arched my brows at her.

“Of course, I am. What else would I be?” She laughed as if it were one of the funniest jokes she had ever heard.

“I am tired, Daphne. I want to sleep. What do you need?” 

“I need a favor from you.” She stood and walked toward my door. “I am going to a party tomorrow night. Pick me up before midnight.”

“I am not doing that.” I violently penciled those words on the pad, but she left before I could show them to her.

Day by day, Daphne was becoming bold with tactics, and so was Dad. 

There was only one meaning behind tonight's dinner. An alliance with Peter. Dad was probably thinking about stretching his hand in Washington too. Which meant he needed Peter. And for that he was ready to sacrifice his daughter.

Me.

He was sacrificing me once again. But this time he planned to bury me alive by giving my hand in marriage to that fat old bastard.