Read Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance) for Free Online

“You’re only fifteen.”
    “I’m nearly sixteen, and I can take care of myself. I’m not stupid.”
    Dad laughs meanly… and I know he’s laughing at me, as if I’ve just said the most unwise thing in the world. I sink into my seat and fold my arms.
    “I thought you should meet him, too,” he says.
    I blink. Him ? “Who are we meeting?”
    “A boy.”
    I shake my head. I don’t understand. “Why?”
    But he doesn’t reply.
    The terrifying thought enters my head: He’s marrying me off!
    But, after a moment’s reflection, I don’t really believe it.
    He weaves the jeep around trees, eventually finds a dirt road, then breathes a sigh of relief and says to me, “Good thing I found the path again.”
    “You mean you were lost?”
    “A little.”
    Now on the dirt path, soft from the daily rainfalls, he drives faster, and before long we come to a clearing, and I see a collection of huts on stilts. It’s a small village bracketed by lush green jungle on one side, and the sparkling blue-green sea with its yellow beach on the other. The beach looks like somebody took a highlighter pen and traced the shoreline.
    In the center of the village sits a wide, square wooden building without windows. It’s suspended on stilts as well, but the walls look older than the houses that surround it. I see a golden elephant outside, notice the incense sticks. It must be a temple of some kind.
    “Why couldn’t we just take a boat?” I ask when I spot a small jetty extending from the beach.
    “I enjoy the drive.”
    “I would have liked a boat ride.”
    “Deidre,” he says, looking harshly at me. “Can you just shut up for a moment?”
    I tighten my arms around my stomach and crease my brow, pricked by his impatience and rudeness. He’s always like this, always treating me like I’m some kind of burden. Why the hell did he insist on bringing me here, then?
    Damn it!
    I half expect him to tell me about how he always wanted a son. He’s said that to me before many times, especially when he’s drunk and angry.
    He stops the car at the clearing, orders me out with him with a sharp jerk of his wrist. Together we walk into the village, a wide gap in between us.
    I see people working vegetable patches, spy a rickety pen of pigs, hear the hum of a generator. These people are farmers, live a simple life.
    Suddenly, I feel out of my element, self-conscious. I’m here in my jeans, t-shirt and branded sneakers, whereas other kids I see are wearing hand-me-down clothing, are running around barefoot or in flip-flops that look a decade old. Their feet are dirty.
    “Wait here,” he says, walking off into the village.
    “Dad!” I call.
    He turns around. “What?”
    “Dad, don’t leave me alone. Please.”
    “Grow up, would you?”
    Someone approaches him, and they talk. It’s clear the man is struggling to understand him because he doesn’t speak English. All Dad does is start yelling, as if that’s going to help matters. Eventually the man seems to get the idea, and points toward the temple.
    The other villagers pay me no mind, except for the children. They watch me from far away with wide, curious eyes. I shove one hand into my back pocket, and with the other fiddle with my wavy hair held up in a ponytail. I don’t know what to do, and become more and more uncomfortable.
    I go back to the jeep and get out my backpack. I rummage through it, pull out my bottle of water, but my small, pink pocket-mirror slips out. The gleaming reflection of the sun catches my eye for a moment, and then the mirror lands face-down.
    Bending my knees to pick it up, I notice glass shards. I broke it.
    “Shit,” I whisper, looking at it for a moment before quickly picking up all the pieces as fast as I can and dropping them into my bag. I’m embarrassed… all those kids just watched me break my mirror.
    I should never have come back for my water bottle. My heart starts to race, and I feel more nervous than ever. I wish Dad hadn’t just left