Page 65 of Pretty Little Threats

Dad is standing behind his chair, gripping the headrest so hard, his knuckles have turned white. He eyes Dare like he might attack at any moment. Pulse fluttering, I take a seat. Dare perches on the arm of my chair. I glare at him, but he doesn’t catch it because he’s too busy holding my dad’s gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips.

There’s nothing familiar about this smile, though.

It’s sharper. Deadlier. Menacing. Born of the desire to punish my dad.

After a moment of them refusing to talk, I sigh and decide to be the grown-up in the room. “Dare and I got married.”

How’s that for ripping off the Band-Aid?

Dad short-circuits. Left eye twitching, the headrest groaning as his grip tightens, teeth bared. Face bright red and a vein throbbing on his forehead.

Dad releases the chair, his eyes narrowing. “You what?”

“I heard her loud and clear,” Dare says.

Dad shoots daggers at him. “I’m sure you think you heard her, but I know my daughter isn’t stupid enough to marry a Richardson.”

Ouch.

“Is that so?” Dare gives me an amused once-over. “Rose?”

“Rose?” Dad echoes, except his tone is full of reprimand, full of vitriol he reserves for those who really mess up.

My throat threatens to close, but I force air into my lungs, force myself to be strong. The only thing worse than disappointing him is letting him think I’m weak. “We’re married.” I hold up my left hand, displaying the ring he scowled at moments ago.

Dad stares at me, and though he doesn’t say anything, I can practically hear the vile things he’s thinking. Then he looks at Dare. “I need a moment alone with my daughter.” He sounds so calm.

“Whatever you have to say to my wife can be said in front of me.”

My wife.Hekeeps saying that, as if it means something.I pinch my eyes closed. Must he provoke my dad?

Dad huffs. “Out.”

“Really, Joe, there’s no reason?—”

“OUT!” Dad’s shout is so loud, I flinch. The second time in a matter of minutes.

The oxygen freezes in my lungs and time suspends for a full second, but then Dare’s grip is on my chin, and he’s looking me in the eye. “What do you say, wife? Do you want me to stay?”

Under his mocking tone, there’s a promise of support, but I can’t allow it. If I do, my dad will never trust me, and my solitary goal is to find a way to prove my loyalty to my family. To prove I’m still a Miller.

“I’d like to talk to my dad alone.”

Something akin to worry flickers across Dare’s face. The emotion disappears as quickly as it appeared. His fingers leave my chin, and he stands, smoothing his hand down his suit. “I’ll be waiting outside.” Dare leaves.

Dad waits a full minute, simply glaring at me. It takes all of my strength to keep from slinking down in the chair, to avoid shrinking in on myself. Cowering goes against every hard lesson Dad taught me, so as unnerving as it feels, I hold his glare, waiting him out.

“Tell me it’s a lie,” he finally says, slowly walking around the desk.

My palms are sweating. “I can’t.”

“What about Eric?” Dad stops before me.

Dad doesn’t know he’s dead. I can’t give him any reason to suspect that, either.

Heart beating so fast, I’m sure he can hear it, I slowly exhale. “What about him?” I crane my neck to hold his furious gaze.

Dad grips my chin where Dare did, only his touch isbiting, so hard, I have to stifle a yelp. “Don’t fuck with me, Rosalynn. Did you really marry thatbeast?”

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