Page 9 of The Good Girl

He clears his throat. “Business in Newtown finished up early, so I’m home for a few days.”

I shrug as he gives me a questioning look. “I made Lena lunch since she forgot hers, and we didn’t feel like eating in the cafeteria.”

He waves over to Lena, a big, fake smile plastered on his face. “Hello, Elena, lovely to see you.”

His persona is nothing but a mask, and the second we’re alone later I’ll see the real him. I decide that maybe staying in my apartment for a few days isn’t a bad idea.

“Mr. Radcliffe,” she says with a nod, hiding her blush. I’m willing to bet the second we leave, he’ll be on the phone to her father. After all, we were supposed to be getting married, and this is the first time they will have seen us getting along like this in almost five years. No doubt the save-the-date cards will be at the printers before the week is out, judging by the sly smile he gives me.

He winks, and I resist the urge to gag. “Call me Dad, hon. You’re about to be part of the family after all.”

“I don’t even call you Dad,” I snort, ignoring the look Elena shoots me.

My father grits his teeth. “But Elena is a good girl, she knows her place. Don’t you, sweetie?”

Lena nods, and I curl my fists. No, she isn’t a good girl. She’s so much more than that.

“Hi, I’m Sasha,” the redhead gushes as she reaches out to shake my hand and break the tension. I don’t miss the way she gives me a once-over, and neither does my father as he pulls her tighter into him. She doesn’t look much older than me, twenty-five maybe?

“Hadn’t you better head back to school?” he says after a moment of us staring each other out. “I don’t pay those extortionate fees for you to stay in my kitchen all day.”

“We were just leaving,” Lena says as she stands and grabs my sleeve, tugging me towards the door.

“Will you be back for dinner?” he asks me, with a glance at Sasha. He doesn’t want me back, he just wants to make sure I don’t interrupt his plans.

“Doubt it.” I shrug. “I’m going to eat with Lena.”

Her head whips round to look at me, eyes wide with alarm before she narrows them.There’s my fighter,I think as she gives me a look that says I’ll be getting an earful later, but she doesn’t point out my lie to my father. I’d call that progress.

My father nods and flashes her another charming smile. “It’s good to see the two of you getting along.”

“See you later, Sasha,” I say with a smirk as Elena drags me out of the house.

Chapter Nine

Elena

“What was that about?” I have to ask as we leave and head back to his motorcycle. The tension between Tristan and Malcolm was palpable, like a smoke cloud filling the kitchen, and I was glad to get out of there so I could breathe again. Tristan hands me the helmet and holds my bag while I place it on my head.

Tristan does the strap up for me, his knuckles brushing against my chin as he clips it into place. “My father hates me.”

The statement is simple, and for some reason, it makes my chest tighten. “I’m sure he doesn’t…”

Tristan chuckles softly. “He always has, Lena, trust me.”

Why was he always smiling and laughing like everything was a joke? Didn’t he care? I shrug. “Well, his girlfriend seems nice. But did you have to flirt with her?”

Changing the subject, Tristan holds out the keys to the bike. “Want to drive?”

“I’ve never…” I stutter. Me? Drive his bike? My father would have a heart attack if anyone saw us.

He steps closer to me, backing me against it. “I asked you ifyouwanted to. Besides, you used to ride dirt bikes with us. You’ll be fine.”

My mind flits back to the summer where we would all ride dirt bikes through the woods down by the lake. That was before we had to grow up and start thinking about our futures. Before the boxes we were placed in got smaller under the weight of The Society. My heart races, that was the best summer and the last one where I had felt like myself. “That was years ago!”

“And? Get on.”

I bite my bottom lip. One ride couldn’t hurt, could it? And my father might not mind if he knew it was Tristan I was with. I mean, after all, he was the one who arranged this ridiculous marriage. I take the keys hesitantly, but as soon as I’ve swung my leg over the bike, my nerves disappear. I don’t even care that my skirt has ridden up, or that Tristan is sitting behind me, his thighs pressed against me.

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