Page 16 of Penny
I led the way up the stairs, wanting to give her the illusion of safety. Having a stranger following could make her walls go up, and I needed her to drop them. The subtle things you did and movements you made helped someone trust you. I wanted her eating out of my hand like a dog.
My brother's bedsheets were lying partly on the floor, and the closet door was left open. I rubbed the back of my neck, scratching an itch that ran up my spine. I wondered if I could get a house cleaner to come here daily for Connor. He obviously needed help.
"Clothes are in his closet to the right. You can get dressed in there or in the bathroom, whatever is easier for you," I suggested, not making eye contact with her as she turned around.
"I can change in the closet. It’s bigger than my studio apartment was," she replied, lightly chuckling. Her gaze burned into me, driving me to look up at her.
"Okay. Let me know if you need anything. Connor has a stylist coming to do your hair for you. Let her know what you would like done, okay?" I spoke quickly, wanting to break the connection dragging me in. Her stare was intense, luring me in like the North Star.
She simply nodded and turned to walk into the closet. My foot lifted involuntarily, ready to step forward. The moment the door clicked closed, it severed the link, and I rushed to the bed. My skin was hot, and my chest tightened as I quickly fixed the mess.
I shook the sheets roughly before I laid them down. Going to each corner, I tucked the comforter under and neatly folded the top down. My breath whooshed out of me, and my muscles uncoiled while I looked over at the made bed. The chaos of my brother’s life was getting to me, diverting my focus from what I needed to do.
In the corner of the room was the acoustic guitar I’d gotten him when we were twelve.
“Where did your money go?” my father snapped, his face turning red.
I avoided his scornful glare, fidgeting my fingers behind my back, not wanting him to see how scared I was.
“I’m waiting.” He lifted his brows, throwing his hand up, making me flinch.
Strike one, showing visible weakness.
“I paid someone to do my science homework,” I announced, straightening my shoulders and puffing my chest out. He would only be annoyed by this lie, but if he discovered the truth, I wouldn’t be punished alone. My brother needed the guitar I’d bought him. He deserved a way to escape from this world we were forced into.
“Either you are lying, or you are dumb enough to pay a twerp six hundred dollars for homework,” he deadpanned, taking a step closer to me. Not wanting to get another strike against me, I stood steady, holding my stare. “Don’t make me phrase that as a question,” he jabbed, again.
“It was homework for the semester,” I answered, trying to hide the stutter my thumping heart was creating.
He tilted his head, eyeing me from head to toe. Panic rushed through me, and it made my foot tap.
Strike two. Showing visible anxiety.
“This is a valuable teaching lesson. As a leader, you must control the help with manipulation. Anyone can burn their money by paying the lesser individuals, but real men twist the minds of the weak, forcing them to see that the only option is to do as we ask. Then once the task is done, you feed them scraps to make them feel important. Tell me this kid's name.” My father’s stance widened, and his arms relaxed by his sides as he looked down at me.
My mouth fell open and then closed. Heat rushed to my face and my hands grew slick. As my father’s pupils started to constrict, I began to shrink.
Strike three. Showing visible hesitation.
The back of his hand flew through the air, crashing into my face and flinging me to the floor. My head spun as I tried to lift myself up. A backhand was something I should be grateful for. He was granting me mercy from the belt and locking me in a room for days.
I processed his calmer reaction, and realization flooded my mind. He’d chosen the back of his hand to make me see his teachings and learn a lesson of manipulation. There was only one flaw—he couldn’t make me tattle on my brother about what I’d really done with my money. Connor may need his guitar to teleport him from reality, but I needed my twin to ground me to reality, because he was the only thing that helped me to survive here.
“Where did the money go?” he boomed.
“It was mine to spend.” I stood steady, hoping he saw my strength and didn’t take it that far. His kindness with only slapping me wouldn’t influence me to tell the truth.
His hand wrapped around my throat, and he dragged me by it to the side closet in his office. The door was flung open, rattling his bookshelves, and I was thrown inside. Cleaning bottles, golf clubs, and other random things were thrown in the small space without any organization, making my skin itch. He always picked the rooms that were the messiest. I didn’t know if it was to punish me more harshly or so that he’d have a clean room after he set me free.
“Liam, there aren’t any casual clothes here,” Penny hesitantly said, breaking me away from my childhood memories.
She stepped out, shifting in an elegant red dress that clung to her curves. A slit ran up her toned leg, making my eyes travel up until I reached the curve of the fabric accentuating her breasts. The red clung to her, making me want to run my hand over her to feel its softness.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered, stepping forward like she was my siren, luring me to sea. Nagging voices sounded in my mind, reminding me to ground myself and start fueling her with overwhelming emotions. It was time to manipulate this little vixen.
“You were meant to bring a man to his knees.”
Chapter 11
