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“Here she is, Daddy.”
He leveled his gray eyes on me and flicked his fingers in a get over here right now gesture. But he smiled at Dean Wilcox, maintaining his charming facade.
“I thought I’d pay my daughter a visit,” Dad said. “I’ve been working so hard, and Giselle has been studying so much, that we rarely get to see each other these days.”
All the color drained from my face. I flushed hot and then icy cold from head to toe. He did this on purpose—publicly tying me to him in front of everyone so I couldn’t be Elle anymore. I was now Giselle Roche, whether I liked it or not. I had no choice in the matter.
Helene shoved me toward him. I tried to shrug off her arm, but she tightened her grip, marching me to Dad’s side.
“Stop fidgeting,” she hissed through her teeth.
“This isn’t what we agreed to,” I shot back. “I wasn’t going to be in the public eye while I was in college.”
“Keep your voice down,” Helene spat. “Yes, we all know you crumble under pressure. So, you needed to hide. But this nonsense about changing your major had to be stopped.”
I knew it. I knew this moment would come. Helene had tattled on me like the little rat she always was.
“I hate you,” I ground out.
Helene flashed a smile for the public and pinched my arm hard enough to make me squirm.
“I’m doing what’s best for my little sister.”
I elbowed her in the side hard. She released me with a grunt and a scathing look.
“Giselle,” Dad said, looking me up and down with disapproval. I tugged at the sleeves of my hoodie, wishing I could melt through the floor. “It seems you don’t remember what I taught you about making a good impression.”
I clenched my teeth together, fighting the urge to snap at him. That would only make me look even worse in front of everyone. Dad was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, ten-thousand-dollar cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. I still wore my pajamas, and I hadn’t bothered to do anything with my hair aside from a messy ponytail.
“I didn’t know you were coming today, Dad,” I muttered.
He scoffed, glancing around to draw the onlookers into our private discussion.
“The job of a parent is never done, right? I send my child into the world to better herself with an education, and she turns lazy, partying her life away without her father to guide her with a firm hand.”
A few murmurs of agreement swept through the crowd. Dean Wilcox clucked his tongue in dismay. I boiled inside.
Then a familiar voice filled the hall—clear, eloquent, crisp, and strong.
“I would hardly call Miss Roche lazy.”
Vincent stood in the entryway of the hall, wearing a tight fitted black turtleneck, slacks, and a pair of sleek, wire rimmed glasses that made him look like a model out of a GQ magazine. A copy of the school newspaper was in his hand. My heart leaped at the sight of him.
“What would you know of my daughter’s work ethic, Mr…?” my father trailed off.
Vincent removed his glasses, folded them with measured patience. Making my father wait was one hell of a power move. He was used to calling the shots, making people cower before him. Vincent showed no indication of quailing before my father. Crossing the room, he held out his hand.
“Professor Stonebridge,” he said. “It was a pleasure to have your daughter in one of my classes.”
That put Dad back on his heels a bit. Vincent was a well-known teacher on campus. If my father challenged or contradicted what Vincent said in public, surrounded by teachers and students, he might find himself losing favor. At last, he shook Vincent’s hand.
“Glad to hear it, Professor.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing the future Miss Roche creates for herself.”
Damn. That was a pointed jab, right to the chink in my father’s armor. Dad’s eyes went cold and flat.
“Giselle’s future is already clearly laid out for her. There’s no doubt in my mind she will be a successful business woman one day. She is my daughter after all.”
