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“This was funny when we thought Izabella was like the rest of her family, but she isn’t, and she doesn’t deserve you being an asshole and blackmailing her. You threatened to go to the press, for fuck’s sake,” he snarls, his expression more serious than I think I’ve ever seen him.
“You don’t even know her, she’s an actress, all of this could be a fucking show she’s putting on. At the end of the day, she’s still a Rhodes. All she has to do is pretend for a few months, she’ll be fine,” I say dismissively, gulping more liquor to wash away the taste of the lie from my lips.
“She was crying real fucking tears, Gulliver, that wasn’t an act. Izzy is innocent in all of this, and her family is a fucking nightmare. You saw the way they were with her last night, and you don’t give a fuck that you’re messing with her life. You starting all of this fake proposal stuff to fuck with them is one thing, but you’ve sent Izzy to deal with the fallout. I don’t know, dude, this isn’t a joke anymore.”
“You were there when I offered to go with her,” I say, defending myself even though guilt is festering inside of me, making my stomach twist with concern for the beautiful fucking Rhodes twin.
He laughs. “Why the fuck would she want you to go with her? Every time you’ve been near her since you dragged her out of the car yesterday morning, you’ve just piled more and more shit at her feet.”
“Why are you defending her? Are you hoping to try your luck with her? You looking to land yourself a Rhodes? Do you want to be her knight in shining fucking armor? Because newsflash, Kip, she’s mine, and she’ll stay mine for as long as I need her to!” I shout, draining the last of the bourbon from my glass.
Kip shakes his head at me, disgust pouring from him. “You’re an asshole,” he spits, getting up from his seat and walking away without a backward glance.
21
IZABELLA
My body freezes and a chill settles over me, like just the sound of her voice actually lowers the temperature of the room.
“Come into the living room,” she demands, turning on her heel and walking away because she knows I’ll follow.
Swallowing thickly, I clench my hands into tight fists at my sides, pull in a sharp breath, and move. Delaying this conversation won’t change the inevitable outcome. My parents and Penelope are going to lose their minds. They’re going to accuse me of deliberately ruining their plans for Penelope and Gulliver, and probably suggest I seduced him, or drugged him, or hypnotized him into proposing to me.
The door to the living room is closed, and as I reach out to open it, my hand is shaking. I know this is going to be bad. If I thought they’d believe me, I’d tell them the truth, but it’s easier for them to assume I’m treacherous than it is for them to consider Gulliver just doesn’t want my sister.
Pushing open the door, I step inside, my head up, my eyes downcast. Mom and Penelope are sitting primly on the couch, and my dad is just inside the doorway, his posture angry. They all wait silently as I take two more steps inside, closing the door behind me.
I turn around just in time to see my dad’s fist coming toward me as he backhands me so hard I fly backward and hit the door. My head bounces off the wood, and my vision blurs as pain explodes across my cheek.
Pain radiates through my face as I slam back into the doorframe, my legs crumpling beneath me as the floor rushes up toward me. I knew they’d be angry; I knew they’d assume I was the one at fault, but I stupidly thought they’d at least give me an opportunity to defend myself. I shouldn’t have come back here. I should have run while I had the chance, because if I’ve learned anything in the last few years, it’s that money is the root of all evil. That stupid will altered the course of my life, but what none of us have ever said is that a will and the last wishes of a dead man shouldn’t have had the power to change everything.
“You just couldn’t stand to see your sister happy, could you?” Mom snarls, her teeth clenched together as she gracefully rises from her seat and slowly prowls across the room toward me.
“I…” I start to speak, clutching at my face as wave after wave of agony pulses through me.
Dad grabs me, lifting me up from the floor, before he strikes me again, the ring on his pinkie finger slicing across my cheek.
My vision blurs, and bells ring in my ears from the intensity of his hit. Mom has slapped me before, but they’ve never hurt me like this. My dad isn’t a huge man, but he’s strong enough that the third hit makes something in my face crunch, and blood fills my mouth.
I’m on the floor again and, blinking, I try to blink my eyesight clear, but by the time I can see again, Mom is above me. “I’m ashamed to call you my daughter. You’re a vile little mistake of nature. You’re the child we didn’t want but had to have, and look at you now, you traitorous little whore. How did you get him to do it? Did you offer up your dirty little whore cunt for him and then force him to propose?” Spittle rains down on me as she hisses out every nasty, poisonous word.
“I didn’t,” I cry.
Her sharp fingernails dig into my scalp when she fists a chunk of my hair and snatches my head back. Lifting her free hand, she slaps me so hard the sound of her palm hitting my cheek echoes through the room.
My head swings to the side from the impact, and I catch a glimpse of my sister. My vision is unfocused, but I think I see a flash of horror on her face, but I don’t get a chance to decide what it means before Mom shakes me using the hand full of my hair she’s still holding.
“You nasty, evil, ungrateful little slut. You’re no child of mine. You’ve always been jealous of her because she’s better than you. She’s prettier and smarter, and she gets everything. She gets all the money, and you get nothing!” she screams, her face so close to mine that all I can see is the ugly clenching of her snarling teeth in her red, angry face.
After what feels like an eternity, she loosens her grip on my hair and shoves me backward, causing the back of my head to bang off the doorframe.
Blackness curves around the edges of my consciousness, but I fight the urge to curl into a ball.
“Move,” Mom screams, stamping her heeled pumps into my stomach, ribs, and arms as she wrenches open the door, hitting me with it as I scramble and claw at the floor, shuffling to the side until there’s enough space for her to barge through it and leave.
Dad’s polished shoes land in front of me, and I lift my chin just enough so I can see him. His glare is hard enough to make me flinch, but he doesn’t strike me again. His lip curls in disgust as he shakes his head. “I told her she should have gotten rid of you, but the doctors said we couldn’t kill you without risking your sister.” Stepping past me like I’m not bleeding and bruised, he strides out of the door, slamming it closed behind him.
My entire face pulses with pain, my head is ringing, and my mouth is full of blood as the longest seconds of my life pass. I’d almost forgotten Penelope was still in here, and I flinch when she kneels at my side. A part of me braces for her to hurt me too, but her hands are shaking as she carefully grips my fingers.
