“I cannot fucking believe you.”

I had never been so angry in my life, not even at my father. But, then again, my father had never whispered promises of honesty into my ear pre-coitus.

I felt soiled, made dirty by the lies he’d told me just before we made love, the warm rush of fondness and satisfaction I’d awoken with replaced by a cold sense of betrayal as I stood in our motel room, my fists clenched.

“You said you were going to keep me safe, Crush,” I said, pushing his shoulder. “But it hasn’t even been three hours since then, and you’re just running off and leaving me with some guy I don’t even know?”

“I’m some guy you barely know,” Crush said, reminding me that we truly didn’t know one another. Shit. Maybe I was kidding myself on this one. Maybe I’d fallen for just another liar. “But you can trust my friend, he’s good people.”

“Right,” I scoffed, “another biker. Because the first biker has been so damn trustworthy.”

“Listen, I’m doing this for you,” he snapped, batting my hand away as I went to push him a second time. “So what if I didn’t tell you everything? I did it to keep you safe!”

“Because that’s the same shit that my father did, Crush! The same shit he’s always done. He lied and lied until I didn’t know the difference between the lies and the truth, and in the end, it was never about protecting me. It was just a convenient way to get what he wanted. So what the fuck makes you any different?”

“I’m doing what I was hired to do. What I think is best for you,” he said, shaking his head. “What’s going to keep you alive.”

“So I’m just a job, after all?” I sneered, feeling like I’d been slapped right in the face. “Fucking me was just some unexpected perk?”

Crush didn’t answer. He looked tired. Resigned. Kind of in the same way he had when my father had told him in no uncertain terms that I was his responsibility. I should’ve paid more attention then. If I had, I wouldn’t have fallen into bed with a guy who saw me as a paycheck… twice.

“Just get the hell out, Crush,” I hissed, pushing him again. “Get out and stay out. And tell your fucking friend that he can stay the hell outside. The last thing I need is another biker in here thinking he can get in my pants like the last one.”

This time, he let me get the push in. “Chrissy…”

“Just go! You’ve got your orders, right?” I took a step away from him, worried that if I strayed too close, I’d end up taking a swing just to make him feel as wounded as I did. “I was right about you, you know. You make a hell of a good lap dog for my father. Hounds of Hell indeed.”

For a moment, I thought that he might say something—that he might respond, maybe even defend himself—maybe even fight for me—but when I turned my back, all I heard were footsteps, followed by the soft click of the door closing behind him. Maybe for good.

That sound might as well have been the sound of my heart breaking in half.

My eyes stung with hot, bitter tears, the rage and grief too much for me to handle. I covered my face with my hands. I never thought I’d cry over a man like this again, not after I’d let my heart get broken the first time. I wanted to scream, to break something, but no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t find it in me to even move from that spot.

I felt like the moment that Crush had walked out of the room, all of my strength had gone with him—from the tips of my fingers to my toes, I felt like I couldn’t even dare lift a single one. I felt weak. Powerless. The idea that I had something that could have been special in my grasp only to have it blow up in my face made me wonder whether it was even worth the effort.

Maybe it was true what they said: girls marry their fathers, in one way or another. In my case, I would always be drawn to men who would lie right to my face. Just the thought of it made my stomach turn. I deserved better.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, head in my hands as sobbed until there was nothing left. I wanted to stop feeling—to stop hurting—but now all I knew was fifty shades of despair. I’d lost so much at the club just a few short nights ago. My world had been turned upside-down, and through it all, Crush was supposed to be there to set things right again. But he’d just walked out the door to go play my father’s war games.

Everything I touched turned into a lie, and in the end, what did I even have to show for it? It had all been just one big game of make-believe that I didn’t even know I was playing.

Even my “gainful” employment at Earthly Delights could be traced back to my father’s pockets.

Why even fight it anymore? I asked myself as I collapsed backward across the bed. There’s no getting away from what my father has planned for me. No matter what I do or where I go, he’ll just find some way to get me right back under his thumb.

I turned onto my side, heaving a slow, shuddering sigh as I wiped away what tears remained streaked across my cheeks. I felt hollowed out like a pumpkin on Halloween, only there was no light behind my eyes. Everything bright and warm in me had been snuffed out.

I honestly didn’t know how long I laid there, staring off into space as the minutes ticked by. The world only stood still for me, locked in my motel room away from everything, alone with my grief. I’d even forgotten about the man Crush had called to stand guard over me—and part of me just wanted to keep forgetting. I hated the idea that I could be passed off so easily from one “bodyguard” to the next. I hated that I needed to be protected.

If it weren’t for my father, none of this would even be happening right now, I thought, my face burning with my anger. If he was just a normal person, then I could be like every other girl my age—going off to college to study what I’d be doing for the rest of my life.

At this rate I’d have to wait a whole other year to even think about auditioning for Juilliard again. The thought of my life being put on hold longer than it already had been only served to make me even angrier.

Dad would just bribe the judges to make sure I didn’t get in. Then he’d secure offers from every Ivy League school’s business program, making sure that was my only option.

I sat up and looked over at the motel phone sitting on the nightstand. I frowned, wondering if calling my father was even the smart thing to do—but I couldn’t see any other option—I was too angry at Crush to even consider waiting for him to get back, and I didn’t trust the man he’d set to guard me no matter how much that asshole vouched for him. How could I trust Crush, let alone one of his friends?

I sighed and reached for the receiver, looking down at it apprehensively for a moment before dialing my father’s number. With every digit, I felt a twinge of something that felt like anger or frustration. I wanted to get by without him, but he proved time and time again that he’d never let that happen—and now I was crawling back to him just like he swore I would.

I put the speaker to my ear, closing my eyes as the phone began to ring. I knew I could hang up at any time, pretend it was a wrong number, but with everything that had happened, with Crush, the other motel, the penthouse, I wasn’t sure I would be any safer away from my father than I would be by his side, and right now I was more comfortable being with the liar I knew than Crush.

Someone picked up on the other end. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and my dreams, and my pride.

“Daddy?”