Breaking Her (Love is War #2) (6 page)

"No.
 
No
."
 
She was shaking her head.
 
"I don't agree with that.
 
You're a lioness, not a lamb, and you don't need to
apologize
for it.
 
You're overprotective and fiercely loyal.
 
None of those are bad qualities.
 
They're your strengths and I've always admired you for embracing them.
 

The best kind of friend is one that makes you feel like a better version of yourself, and Leona was an absolute pro at that.
 
"Thank you," I said quietly.
 
I hadn't been fishing for a pep talk, but I realized just then that I'd sure as hell needed one.
   

CHAPTER FOUR

"Familiarity breeds contempt."

~Aesop

PAST

DANTE

I was packing for a dreaded overnight stay with my dad in Seattle when I heard my mother yelling.

With a long-suffering sigh, I dropped what I was doing and went to investigate.
 

Sure enough, there she was, laying into Glenda, Scarlett's grandma, with particular viciousness.
 
My mother was never nice to the staff, but sometimes she got truly out of control.
 
This was a case in point.
 
From what I'd gleaned as I made my way to the yelling pair, Glenda hadn't polished the silver properly, and now Adelaide was rapping her on the forehead, over and over, with a small spoon, each contact punctuated with an insult.
 

"Useless woman.
 
Why
do I keep you around?
 
No one else will hire you, but is that my problem?
 
Some people
deserve
to be out on the streets."
     

The older woman was cowering away, looking pathetic.
 

I used to like the way my mother treated her.
 
It was petty, I know, but it seemed fair with the way she treated Scarlett that she'd get a bit of it back.
 

But as I grew older, and began to understand a bit more of how humans worked, I became more and more troubled by it.
 
Not because I had much pity for the woman.

It was that every slight she received seemed to only go one place.
 
She never gave it back to my mother.
 

Instead, she passed it on.
 
To my girl.
 

"Mother," I said loudly, my tone curt.
 
"Enough.
 
Get away from her."

"Stay out of this," she snarled at me, looking deranged.
 

"No," I said firmly.
 
"Let the woman do her job and leave her be."
 

"This woman is too
stupid
and
simple
to do her job," my mother told me tremulously, and I wondered which personality I was dealing with today.
 
"That is my
problem
.
 
This is what I get for hiring
trash
to clean my house."
 

"Just stop.
 
Go to your room," I softened my tone, because sometimes that worked with her, though nothing inside of me remained soft toward my mother.
 
She'd stomped out every tender feeling I had for her a very long time ago.
 
"I think you need to lie down.
 
Maybe take something?
 
This isn't like you."
 
That was a lie, but sometimes lies worked with her too.
 

My mother studied me like I studied her—like she wasn't quite sure how to handle me today.
 

"Perhaps I will."
 
She dropped the spoon and moved to me, taking my arm.
 
"Walk me.
 
I feel a bit weak."
 

I walked her dutifully to her room, because I knew well to keep up appearances, even in front of the staff.

I thought that was the end of it, but as I began to move down the hallway, she called me back into her room.
 

"Yes, Mother?" I asked her.
 
She was lying on her bed now, looking like a delicate doll against the pillows.
 

She smiled serenely at me.
 
"If you correct me in front of the help again you
will
be sorry.
 
Scarlett will be even sorrier.
 
I'll make sure of it.
 
You're little cum-dumpster will pay the price for your insolence."
   

Fucking triggered.
 
I went for the jugular.
 
"Stay the
hell
away from Scarlett.
 
If I catch you saying or doing one fowl thing to, or about her, here's what's going to happen:
 
Your friends at the country club are all going to hear every awful thing you've ever said about them.
 
I've been paying attention,
Mother
.
 
I've been taking notes.
 
I'll tell them everything.
 
Who will even talk to you again after they've heard what you think of them?
 
It's bad enough you're stuck holding court in this rinky-dink nowhere town—you think if you get ostracized here, that you will
ever
live it down?"

I had her, I saw it.
 
Still, I took it a step further.
 
"And leave Glenda alone.
 
Quit abusing the staff.
 
I catch you doing it again, I will tell at least one of your
friends
something
interesting
that you've said about them.
 
Is that clear?"
 

She nodded, her face a careful mask.
 

Round for me.

I went back to packing.
 
My dad was supposed to pick me up at two, and I had to rush to be ready on time.
 

Still, I was ready at two.
 
Two came and went, then three.
 
Then four.
 

At five o'clock a car and driver showed up.
 

"Do I really have to go?" I asked my mother, who had only just emerged from her wing of the house.
 

"Of course you do.
 
It's part of the deal."
 

"He didn't bother to show up himself, and even his driver is three hours late."

She shrugged, completely unaffected.
 
"So?
 
A deal's a deal.
 
He has you for the weekend.
 
Go."
 

"I don't want to go.
 
I want to stay with Gram instead."
 

"It's interesting that you think any of us care what you
want
.
 
Now go."
 

It was hopeless.
 
My mother had never been any help in dealing with my father, and she clearly wasn't interested in changing that.
 

I went with the driver.

I hated visiting my father.
 
Living with my mother was obviously no picnic, but I'd learned how to deal with her and stay largely out of her way.
 

Leo was a different and less familiar challenge.
 
Who knew what awful things he had planned for me this time?

A selfish part of me wished I could at least have brought Scarlett with me, but even if I could have gotten her away, the fact was that I didn't like to bring her around my father.
 

I didn't like the way he looked at her.
 
It was unsettling and infuriating, some strange mixture of distaste, recognition, and animal lust.
 
It made me want to hurt him.

I'd taken to sheltering her from my father even more diligently than I did my mother.
 

I only had to stay with Leo a few weekends a year, but they were always particularly dreadful.
 

This one was no exception.

I wasn't greeted at the door of his penthouse apartment.
 
I had to ring the doorbell several times before a redheaded woman in her underwear answered the door.
   

She smiled when she saw me.
 
"You must be the birthday boy," she said and took off her bra.
 
"I've got a present for you, D—" She paused, then called over her shoulder, "Leo!
 
What's your son's name again?"
 

"Dante," he called back from somewhere in the large apartment.
 
"Happy Birthday, boy!" he shouted.
   

At least he's here,
I thought wryly.
 
Drunk off his ass, but here.

It wasn't even my birthday.
 
That'd been over a month ago, and I'd seen him at least once since then.

The topless woman started moving closer, and I warded her off with my hands.
 
"No, thank you.
 
I have a girlfriend."
 

She giggled and went down to her knees.
 
She put a finger over her mouth and said in what I think she thought was a quiet voice.
 
"I won't tell her if you won't.
 
Now come here.
 
Let me see if big cocks run in the family.
 
Don't be shy.
 
I don't have a gag reflex."

I wanted to leave right then, but I was too proud.
 
My father would say I'd run away like a pussy or something along those lines.
 
He always turned everything into a test for me, like
he
was some standard to be held to, which was a joke.

"No, thank you," I told her, coldly and politely.
 
"Which room is my dad in?"
 

Another woman walked into the entryway, this one blonde, wearing a corset around her middle and nothing else.
 
The blonde was not natural.
 

"I'll show you to him, baby," she purred at me.
 
"You guys are into some fucked up shit—the father/son kink, but I'm down.
 
Ever double penetrated a woman?
 
If you're into that, I'm your girl."
 

I was genuinely horrified.
 
I didn't consider myself a prude, but she'd more than shocked me.
 

"I want to talk to him," I clarified.
 
Translation: I wanted to chew him the hell out.

She nodded her head toward the billiard room.
 
"The party's in there, birthday boy.
 
You're in for a treat, let me tell you."
 

It was not a treat.
 

Well, not for me, at least.
 
Leo seemed to be enjoying himself.
 

I hadn't thought I could have less respect for my father, but I'd been
wrong
.

The first thing I noticed was the two girls on the pool table.
 
They were naked, on hands and knees, facing away from each other, and they were
moving
.
 
When I realized what they were doing, I felt myself blush.
 

The next thing my eye caught was my depraved father.
 
He was sitting on one of the low leather couches with a glass in one hand, while the other was tucking himself back into his pants, his eyes glued to the pool table.
   
The woman beside him, his mistress, I realized in shock as she straightened up from his lap, was wiping her mouth.
 

"Can I have a word?" I asked him sharply.
 

He sent me a glare that made him look like a spoiled child told to put down his ice cream.
 
"Oh what
now
?
 
You're not happy with your birthday party?"
 

"I'll be in the kitchen," I told him and left the room, having to shrug off two half-naked prostitutes as I went.

He didn't make me wait as long as I thought he would, only ten minutes or so, but in that time I had to kick five working girls out of the room.
 

"It's not my birthday," I said when he finally made his way leisurely into the kitchen.
 

He leaned against a countertop, his dirty blond hair mussed, part of it standing on end.
 
I don't think he noticed.

He folded his arms over his chest, glass of liquor still in hand, staring me down.
 
It wasn't very intimidating considering he was swaying on his feet.
 
"It's not?"
   

"It's not."
 
But that wasn't even the point.
 
"You do know I'm only fifteen?" I asked him, curling my lip with the question.
 
I wanted him to know how disgusted I was with him.
 

I always wanted that.
 
It was the focal point of our relationship for me.
 
I wanted, always, to establish how different I was from him.
 

How I was
nothing
like him.
 

He blinked a few times slowly, his mouth opening in what could only be described as a vaguely shocked, drunken pout.
 

I'm not even sure why his reaction surprised me.
 
It wasn't at all out of the question that he'd forgotten how old I was.
 

"Fifteen?" he finally got out, taking a long swig of his drink and pursing his lips.
 
"I thought it was fourteen.
 
How the years go by.
 
Damn, I hope you're not still a virgin?"
 
He laughed.
 
"Have I neglected my fatherly duties?"