Free High by LP Lovell

hand.
    “You too.”
    Ah, the ballache that is social graces and ever watching eyes. I know my father hates Rhett, and yet he will sit here and kiss the ring, because Rhett, no matter what he has come from, has money. Money comes with contacts and influence, and the number one rule of the business world is never piss anyone off because you never know who you might need or when. Rhett, it would seem, possesses all these things.
    Yeah, okay, so I Google stalked. I had to. I needed to know what I was dealing with, after all, Rhett Torres was enough to make my estranged father pick up the phone just to warn me off him. Some opportunities are just too good to pass up. Nothing piques my interest quite like my parents feigned concern for my well-being.
    My father turns away, and I follow, like the good little daughter I am. He walks out of the main room and into a quiet hallway before he stops and turns to face me.
    Now I’m closer to him he looks older, more worn than he used to. Living with my mother will do that to a guy.
    “So, let me guess…Mother isn’t happy about Rhett?”
    “Why would you bring him here?” He says through a clenched jaw. I haven’t laid eyes on my father in over a year and this is his primary concern? Touching.
    “I didn’t. He was coming. You invited me, so he gave me a lift.” I smile. “Isn’t that nice of him?”
    He pulls at his bow tie, trying to loosen it. “Blake, this man will ruin you.”
    I laugh and pat down the lapels of his jacket.  “Oh, Daddy, I think that ship has sailed, don’t you? I’d say I was ruined ever since the first time The Sun printed that picture of me snorting a line off that girl’s tits.” He opens his mouth, but I hold up my hand. “Or maybe the time I was pictured dancing topless on the bar in that strip joint, and definitely the time I had an ‘affair’ with Russell Brand.” I never did by the way, but you know, I’m never one to downplay a scandal.
    “He’s a criminal.” He hisses. “There’s a difference between acting out and being associated with the likes of him.”
    “Harsh, Daddy. I thought you were a man of the people. You shouldn’t judge.”
    “He will soil your reputation forever.” He shouts, before swiping a hand over his mouth.
    “And yours.”
    “I cannot have my daughter associated with criminals. This will cripple my campaign.” He almost sounds like he’s pleading a little.
    I smile. “Exactly.”
    Now, you might think I sound like a fucking brat, but trust me, I have my reasons. I walk away and go back to the party, leaving him huffing and puffing and reminiscing on how the fuck he raised such a letdown child.
    Rhett is waiting for me and hands me a glass of champagne before swiping a strand of hair off my face.
    “Your father really hates me.” He says.
    I take a gulp of the champagne and smile. “I would say loathes.”
    He moves closer to me and our eyes lock. “Is that what you’re into Duchess? Fucking guys that daddy disapproves of?” His voice is so deep and rough it makes my skin heat. Dangerous, he’s so fucking dangerous. A girl could easily lose her morals to Rhett Torres, and seeing as I have no morals, that’s saying something. His lips inch closer until they’re so close, so painfully close.
    “He disapproves of everyone.” I smirk and cock an eyebrow. “But I would say you take the prize, so…”
    He skims his lips across my cheek until they’re at my ear. “So, you owe me.” Yes, I fucking do .
    He swipes his thumb over my bottom lip. “I have to speak to someone quickly, but meet me in ten minutes.” He places a plastic card into my hand—a room key for the hotel. “Room 612.” And then he walks away without a word.
    Well, don’t ever let it be said that Blake McQueen doesn’t pay her debts.

    I swipe the key across the door and it clicks open. I push the handle down and slip into the room. It’s dark and silent inside and I assume Rhett isn’t here yet. It’s pitch black,