Page 2 of Reckless Skye

‘She’s my mother,’ Skye dared to snap back.

Holden crouched down on the floor – an agile man despite his sixty years. When she refused to look at him, he fisted one hand in her hair and forced her head back, his movements controlled and calm, almost gentle.

Skye’s hands rose instinctually, gripping his wrist, and although she used her nails on him, digging them into flesh, her father just sighed sadly. ‘You’re no longer welcome in my home.’

Even lying broken on the floor, Skye was manic enough to grin. She couldn’t help it. The words ‘my home’ were comical for so many reasons.

The beautiful house, with its twelve-foot front doors and wraparound porch, had never been a home, only a showpiece: a gilded cage for Skye and her mother to preen and hide in.

And it wasn’t even his.

Skye’s grandmother had owned the house, but since Grandma Jo’s death six months prior, the taxable monstrosity was technically in trust – and Skye would become the trustee on her twenty-fifth birthday in a little over two years’ time.

The note that had accompanied Grandma Jo’s will had read: I’ve grieved for the daughter who wouldn’t accept my help, but I’ll be damned if the same happens to you. Get out, Skye. Live your life. Do what you can for your mom. Love you always, Gran.

It was the only power Skye had over Holden.

But it was mighty.

Because the money and all it could buy – the prestige, the show home, the cars – were everything to him.

Holden had waltzed into her mother’s life with his salesman’s smile and wooed her – a woman barely eighteen to his thirty-six – with false promises and lies. He’d charmed her, despite her family’s hesitations, and once he’d had her in his grasp, he’d slowly tightened that grip.

Skye’s birth had been nothing but a minor inconvenience to her father, so that, throughout her childhood, she had learned to mimic her mother. She had kept her head down and her smile soft. She’d been careful to be friendly and polite but never too friendly. Acquaintances didn’t ask questions; friends did. And Skye had learned the hard way that she would be the only one to suffer if those questions were asked.

But not anymore.

She’d left, and even though she’d known she’d risk running into Holden if she returned, Skye couldn’t leave without trying to get her mom out one last time.

Now, the knowledge that she’d failed consumed her. Her grief grew. And it turned to hate. She let her lips peel back, revealing her blood-covered teeth. ‘What will you do without Grandma’s money to fund your lifestyle?’

Holden might have been partner at a successful law firm, but he still lived well above his means through his wife’s generous allowance.

But not for long.

‘As soon as I turn twenty-five, I’m going to turn off the tap,’ she taunted.

Holden’s calm façade flickered.

He released her and pushed to his full height.

Skye took a deep breath of relief – one that was cut short by his sharp, vicious kick to her ribs.

A gurgled sob left her lips as fire spread through her side.

Skye curled into the foetal position, as much to protect against the next blow as to try to contain the pain. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was her father’s snakeskin boot hovering above her face.

Tired of always being so much smaller, of always fighting, of always losing, she said, ‘Do it. I dare you.’

‘Holden.’

They both stopped at her mother’s voice, unusually firm.

‘Go back upstairs, Caroline. This has nothing to do with you.’ Holden’s voice was back to cool and calm. ‘I will not be disrespected, nor taken advantage of, in my own home.’

For the first time ever, her mother refused to do as she was told. She took two shaky steps before stopping and looking down at Skye. Her blonde hair, always so pristine, made her pale face look sickly. ‘Get out.’

‘Mom—’