Page 53 of Burned By Sin
“I’m sorry if the campus gossip inconveniences you, Mr. Waversea,” she starts. I squeeze her fingers to the point of pain, willing her to stand down. Unfortunately, Harper has that glint in her eye that won’t be denied. “I didn’t ask for any of this attention. I’m simply trying to keep my head above water.”
A flare of surprise flashes across his face before it’s quickly dissolved. I smirk then, pride swelling in my chest. He thought she couldn’t hear him. That she was here for show, but he doesn’t know the tenacity of my girl. Where others might wilt, she thrives. She finds ways to become the version of herself she was always meant to be.
“I will get to you,Miss Addams,” my father bites back. “The disorder you’ve brought into my son’s life has not gone unnoticed.”
“With all due respect, you named him as my mentor,” Harper quips straight back. She shakes off my grip before I break her hand, preferring to place her palm on my jittering thigh. The last thing I want is for Harper to have a target on her back, especially from a man with the resources and influence my father has.
Our first course is served, preselected from an a la carte menu, and for a moment, it’s just the soft scrape of silverware and the pianist’s delicate tune filling the air. I can’t stomach food, but I push it around and nibble for show. Without such reservations, my father cuts into his food neatly, as though the act itself is a statement.
Unaccustomed to an affluent palette, Clay picks at the fish, waiting for Harper to finish hers before he swaps their plates over. Her small smile is bright with affection. My father notices in an instant. The tension zips between us like a live wire. Harper tries to ease the stiffness of my actions with a gentle brush on my arm, under the careful watch of my father. His eyes are laser focused, watching the subtle interactions around the table.
I want to tell him to stop. To leave her out of his games, but my tongue feels glued to the roof of my mouth. He knows exactly whathe’s doing. He leans back, the picture of effortless composure, and turns his attention fully on Harper.
“So the rumors are true.” To my surprise, it’s Clayton that bristles and jumps to Harper’s defense first.
“If you have something you want to say, Mr. Waversea, then just say it.”
“Call him Phillip. No need for the formalities,” I pitch in, knowing it will take the heat off Clayton and bring it back to me. The quickest way to piss off my father is to strip him of the name he holds so dear. I don’t pause to think too much on how having Clayton here is a bolster I didn’t know I needed. The resolve to not show him my weak side is reinforcing the strength to stand up for myself.
“I do have something to say,” my father smiles faintly, though his gaze cuts through me like a razor blade. “Or more rather, something to announce.” The groan I want to release stays trapped in my head. Nothing that’s about to come out of his mouth can be good, and I brace myself as if his next words might physically spear me. “My annual gala is fast approaching as I decided this year, we will hold it on your twentieth birthday.”
“That’s at the end of this month,” I frown. Usually, my father spends months planning his galas, inviting the entire student and governing body, the faculty, the investors. It’s a huge ‘look-at-me, I’m-better-than-you,” soiree that I’ve been attending long before I was an actual student. My father smiles faintly, and there’s no kindness in it.
“I’ve managed to distract the media with the promise of another story. The choice Miss Addams is going to make that evening.”
“I don’t want any part of what you have planned,” Harper states boldly. My father’s smile doesn’t slip, but his grip on his knife and fork tighten slightly. It’s those minuscule clues I’m used to looking for to know when his patience is truly being tested. When it runs out, we can’t be anywhere nearby. My father’s eyes are on Harper’s, and though she doesn’t falter, I have the urge to put myself between them.
“Yet you are a part of it. You’re bringing humiliation to mydoorstep, and I can’t ignore that. On the night of Rhys’ birthday gala, you will choose a date. There will be a double page spread in every tabloid filled with images of you and your chosen. The other man will walk away, never to interact with you again.” His words are careful, pre-rehearsed and laced with a threat. Clay’s brow twitches as he stares at the table.
“What makes you think—” Harper starts, her food forgotten. I stop her this time, curling my body into her side and muttering into her receiver to not push this. Just wait it out and we can discuss it later. My father finds my behavior amusing.
“You three have formed your very own love triangle. It would be a tragedy not to capitalize on it.”
“And if I refuse?” Harper tilts her head. A strand of her pink hair dips onto my collar, my body still close enough to hers to be considered a shield. My father’s expression doesn’t change. He merely dabs at his mouth with a napkin before speaking.
“Then your little academic record, the one you’ve worked so hard to preserve, will be reviewed under the college’s new conduct policy. I imagine a headline scandal wouldn’t work in your favor.”
His cold eyes watch her reaction carefully, hunting for the cracks she refuses to show. Later, in the privacy of my room, we’ll break together, but not here. Not now, and especially not for him. Desiring a more direct approach, my father leans his elbows on the table and threads his fingers.
“If you refuse to make a choice, at least you will be expelled. Whatever future you thought you had will evaporate. I can’t speak for the others at this table.”
Unknown to the other diners, a stilted quiet falls over the table. Clay is yet to move, as if he’s an outsider at this table, simply taking whatever threats are thrown his way. Harper’s eyes glisten, but she doesn’t let the tears fall. As much as I beg her with my expression to not raise to his bait, her chin remains held high, her posture disobedient.
“You three have decided to invite the world into your private lives, and the gala is to be your final stage.” My father laps up the heat in her green eyes, like a new challenger has entered his ring. I hate to think, regardless of the choice she’s being forced to make, that he won’t be satisfied simply breaking her. He’ll want to crumble her into dust beneath his dress shoe. “Welcome to the limelight, Miss Addams. Let’s see if you fit in.”
There it is. The threat. The trial he knows she will want to attack head-on. My mind spins, the variables around me tumbling out of control. Regaining some composure, I twist towards my father, yet keep my arm around the back of Harper’s chair.
“And if she doesn’t choose me?” I call his bluff. Harper’s soft intake of breath sounds beside my ear. “Won’t that further humiliate the reputation you spoke of?”
My father hums, the sound filled with contempt and curiosity in equal measure. Surely gambling on Harper’s sharp mind is a fool’s move. But as his mouth curves around his wine glass before he dips it back, taking his time to drink, I start to put the pieces together. He isn’t worried about Harper humiliating us, he’s counting on it. My blood runs cold, my heart doing that palpation thing where it feels like I might go into cardiac arrest if I stay here any longer.
“We’re done here,” I toss my napkin into the barely touched plate of food. Rising to stand, Harper and Clayton do the same. Using a hand on the small of her back, I guide Harper around her side of the table to keep as much distance between her and my father as possible. This steers her directly into Clayton’s embrace, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and leading her to the exit.
I take up the rear, intent on not looking back until my name is barked. Freezing in place, I spin on my heel and grimace. There’s nothing else to be said, hence no reason to stay any longer.
“One last thing,” my father says, clearly having other ideas. His gaze drags over my face, my neck tattoos, my suit, and at last the full weight of his disdain for me rises to the surface. “When she doesn’t pick you,you will become exclusive with Klara Kavanagh, and marry her upon your graduation.”
“What—” I start but my father holds up a hand, silencing me with the same quiet authority that once ruled my entire childhood.
