Frosted (Hate at First Flight #3)

9. The English Transfer Student

It was a gloomy day on Monday as if it was attesting to the events of the day already.

I could feel the cold wrap itself around me as I pulled my comforter around me, trying to keep it at bay.

Just as I was convincing myself to not go to school today, I heard my father's voice yell. He was in one of his moods and despite how big our mansion was, his voice carried when he was angry, loud enough for it to be heard at the main gate.

I sat up instantly, forgetting the cold as I remembered that I still hadn't talked to him. I hadn't seen him in the past three days and so I still hadn't given him my list of reasons on why Jace Frost was the last person on Earth that should be charged with protecting me.

I knew that my father was avoiding me, but today I knew that I had to talk to him because he  was starting today and I definitely didn't want him around me.

After quickly getting myself to look presentable, I ran out of my room, almost pummelling down Owens who was on his way to wake me up before I ran towards my father's study.

"Ms Holden, good morning," Bruce said as he stood in front of my father's study. He was a big man and he towered over me easily as he blocked the door.

"Morning Bruce," I give him a quick smile as I try to push him away unsuccessfully.

"He asked to not to be disturbed," Bruce said as he placed his arms on my shoulder to push me back slowly.

I sighed, "I haven't 'disturbed' him in the last three days," I bit out. "I think that's long enough to leave him alone. Given the bomb he's just dropped on me, I think I've been more than generous, don't you think?"

Bruce still looked at me, his face held worry but apparently not enough that he would move away and let me through.

"Bruce, move!"

He didn't.

"Bruce!"

Before I could contemplate whether I should kick him in the balls to incapacitate him or try my hand at pushing him again, I heard my father's voice echo from the room, "Let her in Bruce."

Bruce steeped aside instantly, making a grand gesture of moving away.

I shot him a dirty look as I walked past him and shoved the doors unceremoniously open.

My father said behind his Parnian desk, reading the paper as he drank his cup of coffee. He looked up when I walked in.

I stopped short as I took him in. His shirt was not pressed, his hair messy and despite his reading glasses, I could see that that his face was pale and that he had dark circles as if he hasn't slept in a long time.

"What is it, Phillipa?" he asked as he watched me. His voice was still strong and steady despite his appearance. If anything it sounded rougher and angrier than before.

"I need to talk to you," I replied, shaking off the shock as I remembered that I still had to do what I came here for.

"If it's about your claimed lack of freedom, then leave. I don't have the time, nor the patience to entertain your childish tantrums right now."

Those words hit me hard and all I wanted to do was yell back at him. However I knew that wasn't the best course of action. That would just further prove whatever he was claiming, that is that I was a child.

"I am not a child anymore," I said trying to keep my tone in check. "I'm 21 for goodness' sake and I have every right to make my own decisions and have a conversation with you about things that involve me."