Showing him I'm upset about this just excites him. I plan to have her in a hotel by nightfall and in a new house within two weeks. Less, if possible. Until I can get him out of here, I'll go for calm and nonchalant, act as though I'm over it.
"Not good enough," Dad says. Should have seen that coming. Unless it's exactly what he wants when he wants it, it's never good enough. "I'll contact them myself. I'll have it delivered this afternoon. In the meantime, take Raya shopping. She's itching to death since your friends got fragments of fiberglass in her clothes. It'll never come out. Grab some stuff to help her dress up the room a bit as well."
"I have to chauffeur her around?"
Crap. Displayed my anger. But he can't be serious? I didn't expect to have to drive her anywhere.
"No. You have to chauffeur her and carry her bags. You'll do whatever she needs you to do," he says with a hidden tone of warning you wouldn't catch unless you know him as well as I do.
I never thought it possible to hate my father. I've wanted to strangle him for most of my life, but until this moment, I've never hated him. This crosses a line. He's belittling me as though I'm nothing to him, stripping me of all my dignity the best he can.
"You call me if he gives you any trouble. I need to get a hold of the furniture shop. Do you need anything else?" he says while turning to her, his voice softening as well as his eyes.
"Um... my clothes are fine," she stammers, seeming uncomfortable. I hope she's as uncomfortable as anyone can be.
"Nonsense," Dad says, pulling out a credit card. "Take this and get whatever you need. Have fun with it. Abuse the bagboy as well."
I almost let out a laugh to mock his, but refrain. I don't need any more trouble. I just need her gone, and the sooner we can get out of here and away from him, the sooner I can make that happen.
Play along, Kade. Play along.
Raya starts, "I can't—"
But Dad—per the usual—interrupts. "Kade, take the girl to some of my shops. They have a better selection. Make sure they dress her right."
Biting back a few curses, I just shrug, trying to seem as bored and disengaged as possible.
"Whatevs," I mumble while walking away.
He says something to her as I make my way down the stairs, but my anger is actually thrumming in my ears, making it impossible to hear anything else.
Dad passes me, making sure to fix me with one of his sternest glares, but I continue acting dispassionate about it all as I continue to make my way to the garage. Raya is a prude. That's all there is to it. She doesn't get out, doesn't have parties, and doesn't have a lot of people over—ever. In fact, she seems to go to school, work, and then home.
I avoid that damn coffee shop because of her. Initially it was because I saw her running around in her panties, so seeing her was awkward. I was going to be nice and remind her that she needed blinds or curtains, but when I waved that next morning, she iced me down with her glower.
After that, I avoided my window as much as possible. Really, I did. But she was always there. Her bed was right in front of the damn thing. It was... distracting. I used to think she was doing it on purpose, but then I figured out she was just oblivious.
But her bitch glare made me keep my mouth shut, and now I avoid the coffee shop because it's apparent she hates me. At this moment, I pretty much hate her as well. I'll hate her less when she agrees to take the offer I'm about to give her.
I choose a car quickly, lower the top, and flick on the blaring music before backing out of the garage. Just as I exit, Raya is walking out, looking apprehensive. With my sunglasses on, she can't tell I've cut my eyes to the side to look at her. Her dark hair looks like silk. I've never noticed how soft it seems. And those lips... Nope. Don't get distracted, Kade.
"Get the hell in," I snap, still not turning my head to let her know I can see her. "I don't have all damn day."
The second she's tucked inside, the games begin. Slamming it in reverse, I squeal out, and enjoy the way she plops against the door when I jerk it right and throw it in first gear. She scrambles to fasten the seatbelt, and fumbles with it several times before it fastens, while I continue shifting gears, propelling us down the street at a scary rate—scary for her, that is.
When she squeaks in terror, I can't help but let a sadistic grin slide up. This is going to be too easy. She'll be begging to take my offer. Now that I've got her attention, it's time. I'll offer her a renting option first and build up from there. The art of negotiation—always start with the lowest bid.
After muting the music and slowing down, I very calmly say, "Move out and I'll pay your rent anywhere you want to go."
"What?" she asks, sounding genuinely confused.
It's possible that she's still reeling from her terrifying ride with me. There will be more to come if she turns me down.
"I said move out and I'll pay your rent. You can pick any place you want. I don't want to be your bitch, and my father is loving this shit. Get your stuff out of my house, and I'll pay your rent somewhere else. I have my own money."
"Then why let your dad pay for all your shit?" she asks acidly, making my jaw clench, but I keep my composure.
Instead of cursing or spewing something offensive, I laugh, though I admit it's a humorless laugh.