8
Giada
Living under Father’s roof again sucked donkey balls. I had to drop a photo shoot two days in because he didn’t want us going anywhere. A lovely argument took place over the breakfast table, and I silently thanked God Logan hadn’t been around to witness it.
I knew I needed to play nice, attempt to keep the peace, but the thought of living that way for eleven months—and my new insatiable need to plaster myself to Logan’s body and not being able to, kept me on a razor’s edge of pissiness. Add in PMS, and I was the b***h from hell.
Father eventually smashed his palm onto the breakfast table with a hollered “Enough!” snapping my jaw shut. “If you value your life and those of your family, you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut, Giada! This is your life for the foreseeable future. Don’
