The long walk back home doesn’t bother me as much this time. Despite the huge meals that I’m eating with Damien, I can tell that all of this exercise is starting to pay off. I’m still plump, but I can tell that I’m getting stronger. And who knows, maybe being strong and healthy is more important than being skinny.
Like I could ever be skinny, anyway.
By the time I get home, it’s early afternoon. Perfect. My mother usually takes her disco naps in the early afternoon to prep for her night life of charity balls and gallery openings, and my father is usually in his office or out of the house.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I step into the foyer and find it quiet. Good. Now I can go upstairs and get a shower before anyone—
“Emma.”
The sound of my name makes me leap into the air and gasp. Whirling around, I see my father standing there. For once, he’s smiling. The smile doesn’t look normal on him, though, and for a moment I think it’s because he’s usually frowning.
Then I realize that his eyes are still ice cold despite his upturned lips.
“Hi, Daddy,” I say nervously. “What’s up? You’re not usually home right now. Are you sick?”
“I should ask where you’ve been, but I don’t really care now that you’re home,” Jason says in his usual cold tone. “Anyway, I have news for you. Come with me.”
My legs turn to jelly as my father leads me into his office. I can’t remember the last time I was in here. When I was a little kid, Lacey and I snuck in once but thankfully it was my mother who caught us and not my father. Instead of getting punished, Mom served us cookies and made us promise never to snoop again.
I swallow painfully hard at the memory. Even though I’m only in my early twenties, childhood seems really long ago and far away.
My father closes the door behind us and crosses the room. He takes a seat behind his desk and I nervously lower myself into the leather chair across from him. It’s almost too narrow for my ass and I grunt as I shift my thighs to fit. My father smirks unpleasantly as I wriggle from side to side.
“So, um, what is it?” I ask nervously. My palms are sweaty and no matter how many times I wipe them on my thighs, the sweat won’t dry.
“I’m glad you asked,” my father replies. He steeples his hands together and gives me an arch look. “I’m sending you to a rehabilitation facility. You’ll be going tomorrow, for the week before Christmas.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“Emma, you’re not stupid,” my father says. “I know you’ve heard of rehab before. Come on, don’t you watch television?”
“But…but I’m not on drugs,” I say softly, shaking my head. “Dad, you know I’d never touch that stuff. I’ve never even smoked a cigarette before!”
My father clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head. “Emma, you don’t understand,” he says slowly. “This isn’t for drugs. This is a different kind of facility. A kind of facility that caters to girls like you.”
I wrinkle my nose in confusion. “What do you mean, girls like me? Dad, I told you. I’m a good kid. I go to school. I have friends. I’m not a troublemaker.” My heart is racing as I speak. I know that Dad can’t possibly know about Damien and what we do together in the woods, but part of me is wondering if this so-called rehab is a program for sex addicts.
My father sighs deeply, as if the mere mention of my mother has exhausted him. “Emma, I don’t think you understand. Use your brain. Look at yourself.”
When I don’t move, my father slams his fist down on the desk. The sound startles me and I jump in my chair, dragging the feet across the wooden floor with a painful screech.
“You can barely fit in that chair,” my father says derisively. “You’re a cow. I don’t even know what size you wear, but your mother has told me that clothing from regular stores won’t fit you anymore.”
My cheeks burn bright red with shame as I look down at my belly. It’s poking out of my shirt and a huge lump of shame wells in my throat.
“You’ve let yourself go,” my father continues. “And that might be fine for some people, but not the daughter of Jason Hadley.”
I gasp. “What are you talking about? Why does my weight have anything to do with you and your business?”
My father sighs. “You really don’t get it, do you? You’ve skated by your whole life, Emma, and I’m not going to let that continue. You’re an adult, and it’s time to take control of your own life. Do you really think that anyone will want to marry you if you stay looking like that?”
My mind immediately leaps to Damien. How he loves cooking for me, and how he always makes sure that I have enough to eat.
“I haven’t skated by,” I protest feebly. “I’ve done whatever you’ve told me. Dad, I’ve taken tons of classes that I never wanted to take, just because you thought it would be good for me. Like Accounting. I was never interested in the subject, you just wanted me to take it.”
“And you’re a mediocre student at best,” my father snaps.
I squint at him in disbelief. “And you think that sending me to a fat farm will fix all of that? Because, Dad, I have news for you – it won’t. If I get skinnier, it’s not going to turn me into a brain trust with a mind for business.”
To my surprise, my dad throws his head back and laughs. “Emma, god, you really are stupid, aren’t you! Of course losing weight won’t make you any smarter. Has all that fat gone to your head, too?”
My jaw drops. All I can do is stare.
“My company is about to go public, and we’ll be richer than ever. We’ll be traveling in far better social circles. Think of the things your mother will be able to do for charity!”
“And? So?”
“And a beached whale simply won’t be welcome in those circles,” my father says cruelly. “You think you had a hard time finding clothes to fit you before? Try finding a couture gown to mask all of that blubber!”
Something inside of my heart snaps, like a rubber band. I expect to tremble as I get to my feet but instead I feel calmer and more collected than I have in years.
“I’m not going,” I announce clearly. “And I don’t know how you can think these terrible things about me. I’m your only daughter!”
My father glares at me. “Yes, and you’re a fat cow. Don’t fight me on this, Emma. You’re going. A space has already been booked for you at Trim Acres.”
I turn on my heel and stalk out of his office with tears stinging my eyes.
“You leave first thing tomorrow!” my father says from behind me.
I break into a run and dart up the steps to my room just as I hear his office door slam shut. Taking the stairs two at a time, I bolt up to my room and close the door behind me. My heart is thudding as I lock the door with trembling fingers.
For a moment, it hurts too much to even cry. My father, the man who should always have my best interests at heart, hates me. He’s ashamed of me.
Jason doesn’t even want to be seen in public with me. I take a deep, shuddering breath and lean against the door. What did I do to make my father stop loving me?
I wonder what it will be like. Trim Acres. Even the name is enough to make me sick. I picture myself huffing and puffing away at various exercises, my clothes stained with sweat. I think about the food: it’s definitely not going to be like the rich, sumptuous meals at Damien’s cabin. More like veggies and water, or a diet of black bread and rice. Ugh.
I can’t go. The idea of going somewhere like that for my father is nauseating. I’ve always done exactly what my father has wanted, and look where it’s gotten me. Sheltered and heartbroken and ashamed of myself.
Well, I’m not doing that anymore. With a sigh, I step away from the door and turn to my closet. I stand on tiptoe and reach inside for my suitcase. A grunt escapes my lips as my fingers brush against the monogrammed canvas. When it tumbles free, it brings a ton of folded clothes with it.
Now that I know what I’m going to do, I’m strangely not nervous at a
ll. My heart is still racing but the trembling has stopped and I unzip the suitcase with ease. Think, Emma, think, I order myself as I glance around my room at the chaos of clothing.
I don’t have much room. I’m only going to be able to take the things that I love most.
I glance about the space. There are so many memories that I have of this place. The thought of leaving home for good doesn’t make me so much sad as it does nostalgic. I’ll never have Lacey over again for late night pizza and movie marathons. And my mom won’t show up at the door with a freshly-baked platter of chocolate cookies anymore.
Suddenly, a lance of pain shoots through my heart. God, my mom. The thought of leaving her is the only thing holding me back. I love Ramona, despite our complicated relationship. It makes me ashamed to think that she knows exactly what my father said to me. I wonder if he said anything similar to her, like if he threatened her with plastic surgery or something equally insulting.
I struggle to push the thought of my mind. As desperately as I love my mother, I can’t set myself on fire to keep her warm. I’m an adult now, and I have to make my own decisions. I’ve hidden behind her skirts for too long.
Dropping to my knees, I start sorting through my untidy piles of clothes. They’re all pretty much the same – expensive tunics of a soft material meant to conceal my big curves. Mom’s seamstress made all of them, so it’s like I have the same outfit in ten different colors. I’ve never cared for them much, but I have to wear something. I pick three and stuff them into a suitcase, followed by a few pairs of leggings. Panties are easier.
Besides, I should have a lot of those on hand just in case Damien feels like ripping them off.
The thought makes me blush and I pause for a moment as I remember the electric touch of his fingers on my skin. Damien. Just thinking about his name is enough to fill me full of hope. My life will improve if I’m with him, snug and safe in his cabin. Things will get better.
I can’t wait to be with him once more.
When I’m finished packing, my tiny suitcase is bulging. I have to sit on it to get it to zip, and a grunt escapes my lips as my fingers tug at the zipper. As soon as it’s ready I slip on a pair of ankle boots and pull a black hoodie over my head.
Now all I have to do is wait.
Time seems to creep by at an alarmingly slow pace. I stay in my bedroom and listen for sounds from downstairs. Normally Gina serves dinner around six, but tonight the house is quiet. A lump forms in my throat when I think about leaving without saying goodbye to my mother.
Maybe I can send her a postcard?
At nine-thirty, I hear footsteps in the hallway. They pad closer to my door and I freeze. Any minute now my mom could walk in and see the suitcase. I could just tell her that I’m ready for Trim Acres, but I don’t want to lie. Not to my mom.
“Emma?” Ramona knocks softly on the door. “Are you asleep?”
I swallow hard. “I’m not feeling very well tonight,” I call out in a feeble voice. “’I’m not coming down to dinner.”
“Gina made a plate for you and left it in the fridge. Lots of healthy stuff,” Mom answers. She sounds sad and concerned. “If you want it later, just go downstairs and heat it up.”
“Okay.” God, I hate this. Lying by omission is almost worse than regular lying. I feel terrible and guilty for wishing that my mother would just leave me alone.
“Goodnight, sweetie,” Mom says from the other side of the door. “Sleep well.”
“You, too,” I say. I clear my throat. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“Oh Emma, honey. I love you, too. Is everything okay?”
I wipe a tear from my eyes and force a smile so that Mom won’t be able to hear anything off in my voice.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Okay, sweetie. Good night.”
“Night.”
My mother’s footsteps grow fainter and fainter until I’m left in silence once more. My stomach is a tangle of knots as I pick up my suitcase and creep to the door of my room. When I open the door, I see that the hallway is dark and empty.
Good.
Taking a deep breath, I stealthily creep out, making my way down the stairs. My suitcase is heavier than I thought it would be and I have to walk extra carefully so that the stairs don’t squeak under our combined weight. As soon as I’m in the foyer, I breathe another sigh of relief.
Almost there.
But as my hand reaches for the front door, I hear the loud sound of someone clearing their throat. Gasping, I whirl around to see Gina standing there with a puzzled look on her face.
“Miss Emma,” Gina says softly. “What are you doing?”
I flush hotly.
“Are you running away?”
“I’m twenty-one,” I say defensively. “It’s not running away if you’re an adult.”
To my surprise, Gina chuckles. “No,” she says. “It’s not.”
“Please don’t tell my parents,” I beg. “Or at least don’t say anything until morning. Please, Gina. This is really important.”
Gina shakes her head. “Child, if I had to live with your father, I’d have run off a long time ago,” she says. “I won’t say anything. You have my word.”
My shoulders sag as I sigh gratefully. “Thank you,” I say softly. “Gina, you have no idea how much that means to me.”
A funny look crosses her face.
“Wait,” Gina says. “Hold on.” She disappears into the kitchen and I’m left in the foyer with a puzzled look on my face. When she reappears, she’s carrying a brown paper sack.
“What is this?”
“I made your father lunch for his meeting tomorrow morning,” Gina says with a mischievous grin on her face. “But I think you’ll enjoy it more.”
I smile happily as I open the bag and inhale the scent of cold roast beef and cheddar. “This smells incredible,” I admit. My mouth begins to water and I fold the bag over, clutching it tightly in one hand. “Thank you.”
Gina steps closer and pulls me into a deep hug. “Of course,” she says. “Good luck, baby. I know you’re gonna be just fine.”
Tears sting my eyes for the second time and I brush them away. Gina opens the door for me and I walk out into the dark night, away from the influence of my father forever.
By the time I get to the wooden trail, it’s freezing cold. I start to wish that I’d brought a warmer coat, but the thought of Damien’s cozy fireplace is enough to make me pick up my pace and move faster. Soon I’m almost jogging through the woods with a suitcase in one hand and Gina’s gift in the other.
When I reach Damien’s cabin, I’m sweaty and out of breath. I set down my suitcase and shift my weight nervously from one foot to the other as I knock on the door.
What if he turns me away? What if he won’t let me stay here with him?
Suddenly, I’m nervous. I know that I should have thought of these things before I left home, but there wasn’t time. I was just so upset that I could hardly process anything. Plus, it’s not like he has a cell to call.
When Damien opens the door, my heart lurches to the side at the sight of him. He looks as sexy as ever, in a pair of dark jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his muscular arms. He looks down at my suitcase.
We stand in silence for a few seconds, and then everything hits me at once. The anger, the fear, the hurt, the betrayal – everything my father made me feel. Not to mention the guilt of leaving my mother behind in such a place. Tears flood my eyes and I stagger forward until I’m sobbing against Damien’s burly chest.
“Shhh, Emma, it’s okay,” Damien says in a low, soothing voice. He puts his arms around me and pulls me close as my sobs become harder and harder. I’m barely aware of Damien scooping me up and carrying me inside. When he sets me down on the couch, I throw myself at him and bury my face in his neck. My face is hot and puffy and flushed from tears, but I don’t care. I cry and cry until there’s nothing
left and I feel empty inside.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Damien asks. He pulls away and cups my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Or do I have to guess?”
I take a deep breath and wipe my nose on the sleeve of my hoodie. “My father wanted to send me to fat camp,” I mutter as my cheeks burn bright red. “And I won’t go. I’m twenty-one. I’m not a child anymore, and I don’t have to listen to him.”
Damien’s face turns murderously angry. “That’s disgusting,” he mutters under his breath. “Emma, you’re gorgeous. You don’t need to lose any weight.”
I flush again. “Not according to Jason Hadley,” I mutter under my breath.
Damien flinches.
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
Damien shakes his head. “Nothing,” he replies. “I just can’t believe your father would do something so despicable.”
I sigh and close my eyes, leaning against Damien’s shoulder and staring up at the ceiling. “I can,” I mutter under my breath. “You don’t know my father. He’s been a jerk my entire life. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a good daughter, but he’s made it quite clear that I can’t meet his standards.”
Damien is silent. He strokes his hand through my hair and massages the back of my neck with one of his giant hands. It feels so good that for a moment, I forget all about my father’s insulting idea.
“So I left,” I say quietly. “I’m over eighteen, I can do whatever I want. And I will do whatever I want – I can get a job and finish school, but if I have to put it off, I will. Or I could always take courses online, too.”
“You’re smart,” Damien replies. He continues stroking my hair and the touch of his fingers is enough to make me melt in his arms. “You can do whatever you want.”
I sigh and snuggle closer. I like that he’s not judging me. I’m sure that I probably seem like a spoiled and ungrateful brat. But I feel so comfortable talking to Damien. It’s like I can tell him anything and he won’t bat an eyelash.
“My dad is taking his company public,” I continue softly. “He’ll be richer than Croesus now. I mean, he already has an obscene amount of money. But this is really going to put him on a new level. That’s why he wanted me to go to a fat farm. He told me that an obese girl wouldn’t be welcome in his new social circles, whatever they are,” I say bitterly.
His Filthy Game Page 26