Free DEBT by Jessica Gadziala Page A

haven't. I won't. But I am giving my word now that I am not going to hurt your father. I'm not taking anything from you."
    I ignored the weird fluttery feeling in my belly at his words, at the firmness and honesty behind them. "Just my dignity," I said, trying to jerk my chin from his fingers, but his fingers were holding on tight enough to bruise.
    "Your dignity?" he repeated like he didn't know exactly what I was talking about.
    Well, I wasn't going to let him play dumb. "The clothes."
    "You think those clothes take away your dignity?"
    "What the hell else could the purpose of them be? Sorry if this bursts your little male fantasy, but women don't walk around their houses in lingerie and fuck-me heels every day of their lives."
    "What is shameful or embarrassing about wearing a skirt and a camisole?" he countered. "Are you insecure? Do you have a problem with how you look?"
    "How the hell could that be any of your business?"
    "You brought it up."
    "My point is I should be able to wear what I want to wear."
    "Slacks and button-ups that you button all the way up, you mean?"
    "What's wrong with that?"
    "Prue, you can call the clothes I put you in a whore's uniform all you want, but don't even try to fucking convince me that those shitty clothes you put yourself in are anything other than another type of uniform."
    "I worked in a..."
    "Oh, fuck off. Those clothes have nothing to do with dress code. The woman who took my last deposit had half her tits hanging out of her dress. Those clothes have everything to do with the part you play."
    "The part I play?"
    "The nine-to-fiver. The woman who pays her bills on time. The woman who can take care of herself. The woman who is not the offspring of a man who can't hold down a steady job or pay the lights before they were cut off."
    "Oh, please," I said, rolling my eyes, finally taking the step in retreat I had wanted to earlier. I needed space. Because something about what he said, it settled heavy down inside.
    "Never met a woman trying so fucking hard to pretend to be someone she's not. And, babe, I've dated fucking actresses."
    "I don't know what you're talking about," I objected, but there was an uncomfortable feeling inside, something akin to something breaking open, something being unearthed after being buried for so long I had forgotten it was even there.
    "How long did it take? Ten, twelve years?"
    "How long did what take?" I asked, trying to swallow, but finding my mouth suddenly chalk-dry.
    "For you to perfect this act? This good girl who always does and says the right things, who wears the right things, who never fucks up act?"
    I shook my head slightly, but I was pretty sure at that point that I was just desperately trying to cling to my denial, to wrap the comfort of it around myself, to shield myself from the cold, hard, ugly, and ultimately inescapable truth: he was right.
    "It's not an act. It's who I am."
    "Prue..." he said, taking the step I took by moving toward me. With the counter at my back, I was trapped there by his chest, his dominating presence commanding all the air between us, making my chest feel tight and my head feel light.
    "Don't," I said, shaking my head a little frantically, the closest I could bring myself to begging him to let it go, let it drop, leave me and my false sense of self alone.
    His mouth opened, then closed. His breath exhaled hard. Then he gave me a small nod. "So these cookies, are they poisoned?"
    Surprised, I felt my lips curve upward. "I considered it. But I didn't want your poor, brainwashed employees all dropping dead too."
    To that, I was actually awarded a smile and, for once, it wasn't cruel, condescending, sinister, or sly. It was just a smile. I didn't get full teeth, but I got a curve that made his eyes crinkle a little.
    And it did not... totally did not make my lady bits quiver.
    "My brainwashed employees?" he asked, reaching for a cookie that was still on the sheet I had taken out of the oven.
    "Yeah, well," I said, moving