to.
Specifically, she’d beat the shit out of some bitch talking shit across the VIP section. She’d smashed her champagne flute right over her head, and even worse, she hadn’t stopped once she saw the blood.
Tired of those fuckin’ skanks, she thought, grabbing the wall to catch herself as she wobbled on her too-high heels. I needed to send a message…
But perhaps that message needn’t have been written in the girl’s blood. Unlike all the other times Kayla had gotten into altercations at various public venues, the staff just couldn’t ignore this one, which had required an ambulance to ensure the girl she’d busted up didn’t have a concussion. That meant the police had shown up, too, and not long afterward, Kayla had found herself in the back of a cruiser and on her way to jail.
Again.
Thankfully, the officers had merely stowed her in the drunk tank, as usual, and called her stepfather, Carter Farthing. That name carried a lot of weight at the metro PD, and pretty much anywhere else Carter went, which also meant that Kayla rarely dealt with any punishment more severe than court mandated therapy sessions and a scolding from both her parents.
She doubted she’d hear from her mother this time. She was off jetting around the world again, leaving Kayla in Carter’s care. That wasn’t terribly unusual, but at twenty-one years old, it was beginning to get a little old.
She had wanted to move out of her stepfather’s estate the day she’d turned eighteen, but that wasn’t something Carter would allow. He treated her like some precious commodity, like another one of his fancy cars or expensive tech toys. He wanted her around to show off. It was part of his image, his status as a billionaire. He was a “family man,” even if Kayla wasn’t technically “his” family.
And without her stepfather’s money, it wasn’t as if she could just pack up and leave. Until she finished college and secured a career, Kayla was doomed to remain at home with Carter and her mother.
That didn’t mean she had to be some goody-two-shoes, though, as tonight—and so many others—had proved.
“Jesus,” her stepfather muttered, quickly pulling open the passenger’s side door to let Kayla collapse inside. She was still drunk. Her head was swimming, and balance had suddenly become a major issue. “Look at you. This is no way for a young woman to behave.”
“What’s the matter, Daddy?” she sneered. “Are you afraid I’ll embarrass you?”
Carter stared down at her, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked her over. For a moment, his steely gaze caught on her skirt, and when Kayla looked down, she saw that it had hitched up around her upper thighs when she’d sat down. With her legs splayed, her sheer pink panties were completely visible.
Why is he looking at me like that? she wondered as she pulled down the hem, watching Carter avert his gaze. It almost looks like he likes it…
She banished the thought immediately, chalking it up to her inebriated state as she managed to swing her unusually heavy feet into the car. Carter shut the door, walked around to his side, and got in, scowling as he turned a key, the big powerful engine roaring to life.
“Buckle up,” he told her sternly.
Kayla once again rolled her eyes, but inevitably obeyed. She might have been reckless in many ways, but she certainly didn’t want to end up flying through the windshield should something go wrong.
She snapped the seatbelt into place and leaned her seat back immediately, stretching out as best she could in her stepfather’s luxury sedan.
“Your antics are costing me a small fortune, you know,” Carter muttered as he pulled into the limited traffic at this hour. “God only knows what I’ll have to do to convince this girl not to press charges.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle,” Kayla replied, closing her eyes as the