Unleashed (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance) (62 page)

“Oh for God’s sake, Dad!” I yell.

My eyes are wet but I’m trying not to cry. I’m not trying to make him feel bad. I don’t want him to feel guilty. I just want him to come. I don’t want to be the only kid there without their parent present.

“It’s not really a holiday,” he eventually says. He’s deflecting, changing the topic subtlely. He’s missing the point, and willfully, too.

It pisses me off.

“Yes it is a
holiday
. Just because your company set it up doesn’t mean you aren’t going to enjoy yourself. You’re going to fucking
Vegas!
”

“Hey!” he barks, jabbing a finger at me. His nostrils flare and his bushy eyebrows shoot up his forehead “Don’t swear! It’s unladylike.”

I scowl at him. “I would really like for my
father
to be present at my graduation ceremony. Is that too much to ask?”

“I just can’t.”

“Just because you didn’t finish school doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be there when
I
do. Just because it didn’t matter to you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter to
me
.”

I can’t believe it. He just sits there and shrugs. “You’ll do fine,” he adds lamely. “It’s not all you think it is.”

I can’t believe I’m hearing this. What a fucking asshole!

“Mom would come,” I say, knowing it’s going to sting him.

As I expect, his face tenses up for a moment. His whole body stiffens. I don’t care. I’m out for blood now, even if I don’t like this about myself. But he should be there when I graduate. He should be there for me. He’s the only parent I’ve got.

And I’m the only kid he’s got.

“Don’t do that, Cassie.”

“Don’t do what?”

“The company retreat is already set in stone. I’m just a junior partner. How can I possibly not go? You know I was just promoted last month. If I don’t go, how do you think that looks?”

“How do you think it looks to your
daughter
that you’re not attending her graduation?”

“My hands are tied, Cassie.” He pushes his two wrists together in front of me. His eyes go all puppy-dog.

What a dick.

“What about the other partners? Don’t they have kids, too?”

“They’re all so much older than I am, Cassie! Their kids have already graduated.”

“And you can’t bring it up? Get it moved? Did you even try? Did you even remember?”

“Of course I remembered!”

He’s getting hot now. The temperature between us is rising. Good. He’s got no ground to stand on.

“But they made it clear that these were the dates. What was I going to say? Gee, Mr. Davidson, Senior Partner, but I really think you should switch up the dates of this retreat you’ve planned for months and generously extended an invite to me for.”

“You’re pathetic,” I spit.

“Watch it,” he says. This time, his tone does get to me. I flinch a little.

“Don’t act like you’re going because you’re pressured to. You
want
to go. You already told me it’s all comped by the firm.”

“Cassie, we need the money. When your mother was… I can’t screw
anything
up. You want to go to LSE? Study abroad? Is it on a scholarship? Is it?”

“No,” I say reluctantly.

“So who is going to pay for it? Me! And I would love to pay for it. I want you to get an education. I want you to pursue your dreams. Do you understand? Impressions are everything. The partners have implied that, under no circumstances, am I to not go with them on this retreat. I
need
to go. It’s important. I assume we’ll also be discussing work matters.”

“What are they to get you running so scared? Mobsters?”

Dad opens his mouth to speak, but then something weird happens. His brow furrows, and he cocks his head to the side.

“No,” he says icily. “They’re not mobsters.”

“Then why do you sound afraid of displeasing them?”

I slap the dining table. A piece of macaroni jumps off my plate and, somehow, lands in my glass of water.

“Now, Cassie,” Dad says, folding his arms, giving me a disapproving look.

“Argh!”

I storm off, leaving him at the table, and stomp up the stairs to my room. Each wooden plank creaks beneath my fury, sounds like it’s about to snap or splinter, and yet I feel powerless.

I slam the door to my room. The hinges rock in the frame.

Some fucking family I have. Mom’s gone, and Dad doesn’t care.

I tear a piece of paper from my pad, and begin scribbling down notes for my speech I have to give next week.

The baggage carousel trundles around lazily, and I’m just zoning out. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, and the plane food has only left me feeling bloated.

I can feel the button of my jeans digging into my skin, and a part of me just wants to unbutton it, damned if anyone sees.

“Which one is yours?” Chance asks, striding up next to me.

“I don’t need your help,” I say. “Chance, I’m tired. Can we not do this here?”

He grins at me. “What is it you think we’re doing? We’re not doing anything.”

“Why are you asking me which one is mine?” I sigh, and rub my forehead.

“Because no new suitcases are coming out. You’ve stared at the same bags go around three times now.”

I blink, and that’s when I notice my grey suitcase.

“What the hell?” I murmur to myself.

“That one yours?”