“This is the last time you will disobey me, Amara!”

Dad’s voice exploded across the office like a gunshot. It made the crystal glasses on the side table rattle. I stood there in the middle of all that dark wood and leather, my arms wrapped tight around myself like they could protect me from the yelling. The red dress from last night still stuck to my skin in places, damp from dancing and the warm night air outside. My feet throbbed inside the stupid strappy heels I hadn’t even kicked off yet. I could still smell the club on me—sweet perfume mixed with sweat and the faint burn of vodka...