Catherine's POV
This time I didn't have an escape route because the door to his car was opened and he was already stepped out when my body started to shake.
The salad I had just eaten threatened to throw up as I watched my worst fear come walk towards me in polished shoes.
"Catherine, I can-"
I turn to him. "Leave. You need to go now."
His brows set downwards. "What? I'm not leaving-"
"Greyson, go. Now." I push at his chest making him budge towards his car but the man was a wall of muscle and stubbornness. "Greyson. I'm begging you. Please. Go."
He knew I wasn't going to back down. And he sure as hell knew that if he didn't leave things could escalate a lot more than they were about to. He looked between my face and then the car and the back at me unhappy. "I don't want to leave you."
"But you have to." I concluded for him impatiently. "I'll see you later."
His eyes were still set behind me as he finally, slowly, walked away towards his car even though I knew he was glaring at my father the entire time.
Greyson and my father never got along. They never talked but it was always evident to the other when I was around.
My father took off his sunglasses and smiled brightly as if I was his shot of espresso. "Catherine."
"Dad. What are you doing here?" I say making no move to hug him or shake his hand.
He hung the glasses on the neckline of his finely pressed dress shirt. "We need to talk."
"About?"
"Can we not just talk?" He asked through a forced chuckle. "Get in the car."
I looked anxiously at the open door and then at him before blurting, "I have a class."
"No you don't. I asked the Dean for your entire schedule. Funny enough it's a low-minded amalgamation of classes but...we can discuss that inside." He turned around and stalked towards the car.
Like baby Bambi I slowly dragged myself inside the leather interior as he shut the door and pulled on his seatbelt. My eyes were trained on Greyson's car still unmoving as I did the same. "You could have called me."
"I'm your father. Not your client." He snorted looking out the window. "At this point you're heading straight for the trenches. Fashion? Really?"
And there he went on. His battle to choose for today was my subject choice. "What's wrong with fashion?"
"It's a frowned up industry. You know that. You couldn't get into modelling so you decided to dress others?"
My nails dug into my palms. "I couldn't get into modelling cause you hated the idea."
He pursed his lips in thought. "Yes. You didn't have the physique for it. Remember how pudgy you used to be? Thank god I introduced you to the gym." His eyes scanned my body. "You're still going to the gym, right?"
YOU ARE READING
Knowing Us
Romance"We were bound to break at some point. So might as well be fucked up together." Catherine Welles had always been good at keeping secrets - soo much so that her entire life was a lie. She was well versed in the tragedy of men and money and demons th...
