The atmosphere in Phil's BMW was as tense as it had ever been between father and daughter. Their Stoney silence was as loud as raging rapids.
"Dad, look, I know you do not like Charles at this point, but please get to know him." Gemma pleaded.
Phil muttered under his breath. Gemma couldn't be sure but she thought she heard him say, "Damn second generation brats."
Aloud he said, "Gemma, I don't want to know him. I knew his father and if he is anything like his predecessor then this Charles is bad news."
"Daddy, how would you respond if you saw mother with older successful man out in public?" Gemma asked softly.
Phil blew out a breath of frustration.
"I wouldn't like it." He admitted.
"Would you make a public scene?" She asked pointedly.
"Maybe so." He answered.
"Then—" she began as they arrived at her apartment.
"I know what you're saying, Gemma. I just don't like him. If you respect me as your father and love me as a filial daughter should, then you'll keep away from this man.
———————————
Gemma lay on her bed, sobbing into a pillow when she heard her door buzz. Hard pounding and another buzz followed. She was fairly certain it was Charles. She sighed. This would be an awkward moment surely.
She trudged to the door and cracked it open. She was correct. There stood Charles.
He pushed the door open and grabbed her. He slammed the door behind him and looked very angry, as one arm wrapped around her waist in a vice, and his other hand was tangled firmly against her scalp. He used that hand to pull her head beck and stare into her eyes before roughly kissing her.
This kiss hurt. She whimpered but he deepened the kiss, sucking and biting her lip. The next thing she knew was that he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
She screamed in surprise as he tossed her in the bed and began ripping off his clothing. He climbed on top of her and ripped her clothes off of her. One yank of her blouse and beads fell everywhere.
She clutched at her torn blouse, screaming, begging him to stop. But he paid her no mind. He bit her breasts—not enough to break skin, but enough to leave bruises. She tried pushing him away, but he pinned her hands above her head. She tried to kick with her feet, but his legs wrapped around hers.
Fear coursed through her veins for the first time in dealing with him. Then, the unthinkable happened.
He forcefully penetrated her. Gemma screamed and cried. This was not gentle and romantic. This was not passionate and rough.
This was Rape. He had raped her without considering her at all. He took what he wanted. When he was finished he stood up and looked down on her. She was shaking and sobbing.
He leaned down and roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes.
"I told you that if you are my woman, you are mine. There's no running around with other men." He growled.
"But he's my father." She whispered, and hiccuped. He pinched her chin and she winced.
"You didn't tell me where you were going or who you would be with. That was your mistake." He said angrily.
"You can't control me!" She suddenly yelled through her tears, indignation on her face. He had taken her by surprise, but she was no shrinking violet. She surely had her own fire in her bones.
"Then you will not be my woman! You either obey me or we are nothing to each other!" He bellowed.
"Then we are nothing! She yelled and flung herself into her pillow. She expected more from him. Something! But it was quiet. She peeked but saw nothing.
She jumped up and ran to the living room. He was gone! He had left as enigmatically as he'd came. She wrapped her torn shirt around her more tightly. It was best that he left.