Felicity snorted.“Like that will happen.”
Though she meant to keep the mood light, her honest words plunged me into fear. “He has to,” I said. “I’m almost eighteen. I can leave if I want then.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Felicity and I had had this discussion countless times when I’d been so overwhelmed I was sure I couldn’t take another second of Daddy’s suffocating protection. As I’d watched my peers experience firsts from the sidelines, years raced by marked in milestones I could not participate in, from crushes to employment and finally driving.
I’d never even been behind a wheel. Daddy insisted I be chauffeured like royalty.
Felicity and I both dreamed and talked about our futures, college, careers—but mine was as far out of my reach as the moon. I let out a sigh. Even if I left, where would I go? I didn’t have a job, no way of supporting myself. Daddy refused to let me work, unwilling to expose me to any situation outside of his control.
Once, I’d approached him about working in his office. He’d merely pondered the idea for about two seconds before telling me he preferred if I stayed home and worked on my music. I did hope to compose for musical theater or film, someday. My first piano teacher, Madame Stefan, was the one who told me I had an unusually exquisite gift for music.
“Sounds like you need me to come over,” Felicity said. “Ask.”
“I’ll text you if he says it’s okay.”
“K. See ya in a few.”
Hopefully.
I clicked off my phone, stood and went downstairs, passing Stuart who was carrying boxes of his belongings to the main floor.
The tense air between us sent a shiver down my back. He allowed me to go down the stairs before him, and I did, breaking into a half-skip to avoid being near him.
I continued to the back of the townhouse and heard him plop the boxes on the marble floor by the front entrance.
Daddy’s office doors were closed, so I knocked. The low rumble of his voice, mixed with his hearty laugh, continued. He was on the phone and probably didn’t hear me. I cracked open the door and stepped inside.
The scent of leather from chairs and tufted couches filled the walnut-paneled room. Books lined the walls, mixed with framed images of himself, Mother and me and the few choice paintings of African lion wildlife he had collected. Antiques and other possessions lined shelves and stood on display.
“Bring your appetite. Yes. That’s right. We’ll see you Saturday.
He clicked off his cell phone and slid it into his shirt pocket. He’d changed into casual camel slacks and a light sweater.
“Princess.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“How long have you been here? I didn’t hear you come in.” He moved around the side of his imposing lion-head desk. The piece had scared me as a child, massive as it was with roaring lions claws carved into the legs.
“Not long.”
“Do you want to go on a walk? It’s not that chilly out.”
“I wondered if Felicity could come over.”
He stopped in front of me, considered, seeming to draw out the moment. “After your leaving the house today? No. I’m working on a replacement for Stuart.”
My heart plunged to my feet. “I don’t need another bodyguard.
I—”
“This topic is not open for discussion.” His words banged against the paneled walls surrounding us. “We’ve been over this.”
Frustration steamed my blood. “I’m tired of having someone breathing down my neck all time.”
Daddy turned and headed back to his desk, his posture erect, his demeanor cool. He pulled open a drawer, plucked out a slim cigar. He slipped the cigar between his lips and lit the tip. A stream of smoke slithered into the air around his head.
My hands fisted at my sides. I recognized the pattern: silence.
Listening, but ignoring my pleas.
I turned and walked out the door. Stuart was still bringing boxes down from the upper floor, piling them in the entry. His glare locked on me when I entered the foyer but he continued up the curving staircase until he was finally out of view.
In the depths of my pocket, my cell phone vibrated. I stood in the entry, shivering, staring at the closed front doors. It felt like the marble walls were closing in. Run.
My heart raced.
I crossed to the front door.
“Going for another walk?” Stuart’s voice boomed behind me. I placed my hand on the ornate brass knob, turned it. “Go ahead. You don’t have the guts to free yourself.”
I opened the door three inches before Stuart’s thick palm slammed it shut with an echoing thud. His palms clasped my shoulders and he forced me to face him.
“Take your hands off my daughter.” Daddy’s voice tore through the tension tying Stuart and I together. He stood beneath the arch that led to the back of the townhouse, his face tight.
Stuart released me and stuffed his hands in his front pockets.
“She was trying to leave, I thought—I knew you wouldn’t want her going out alone.”
Daddy’s steps were slow as he came toward us. One hand was in the front pocket of his slacks, the other held a smoldering cigar.
“It’s too late for you to redeem yourself.”
Stuart’s jaw turned to stone. Hanging at his sides, his fingers opened and closed. He crossed to his stack of waiting boxes.
Daddy opened the front door and held it wide. Out front, a cab idled next to the curb. For the next three minutes, Daddy and I watched silently as Stuart took his boxes out the door and into the yellow cab. No one spoke. Sounds of cars rushing, horns , and the occasional pound of music from a car radio drifted into the townhouse. When the last box was carried out, Daddy shut the door with a final thud.
He looked into my eyes, brought the cigar to his lips, inhaled and held, his gaze never leaving mine. A shiver wrapped around my spine.
I didn’t appreciate his overt display of power. I might be his child, but I was tired of being owned.
“Time for that walk, Princess?”
“No.” I turned and took the cold stairs up.
Unnaturally charming, Mother’s voice slipped under my closed bedroom door Saturday night like the artificial scent of drug store cologne, drawing my attention from the romance novel I was reading.
A smooth male tone—not Daddy’s—followed. Who was here?
Then Daddy’s commanding voice. I flipped the book over to save my place, stood, and opened the door a crack. Their voices came from the foyer.
“You look absolutely wonderful,” Mother said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Adair.”
“Glad you could come. It certainly has been too long,” Daddy said. “Come in. I’ll get Ashlyn.”
My heart leapt to my throat and lodged. The new bodyguard?
I shut the door, pressed my back against the wood and closed my eyes.
Seconds later, Daddy’s firm knock caused me to jump. I turned and opened the door. His silver-blue eyes smiled into mine. “Ashlyn, can you come into the my office please?”
I rolled my eyes and Daddy’s smile vanished.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“I don’t want another bodyguard.”
Daddy moved into the low-lit hall, indicating I should exit my bedroom. I didn’t move. “Our guest is here. You’re making him wait.”
My knees locked. “I won’t.”
Daddy’s eyes widened for a second. I crossed my arms. Daddy studied me, then smiled—a practiced move I was certain he’d used countless times with countless juries. He patted my shoulder. “Fine.
I’ll bring him up here.”
He turned and disappeared down stairs.
A man in my bedroom? Daddy never allowed bodyguards inside my bedroom. The last thing I wanted was a stranger stepping into my sanctuary—the only place I felt truly alone and protected.
I shut the door and half-skipped down the marble stairs on Daddy’s tail. He
glanced at me over his shoulder. He knew I wouldn’t want a stranger in my bedroom. His threat was a manipulation, I was sure of it, and frustration quickened my steps.
Mother’s voice danced with the male timbre of the guest’s, the intriguing melodic sound coming from the open doors of Daddy’s office. Daddy slipped his arm around me once my feet hit the floor of the entry hall. He stopped me with a gentle hug.
“Thank you for indulging your father.” He brought me to his side and kissed the top of my head. My heart softened a little. “I know you’re not happy about having another companion, Ashlyn. But this is as much for my peace of mind as it is for your safety.” He held me between his palms and looked me square in the eyes. “I promise this one will be the last.”
The last? I didn’t dare hope his words were true. “I don’t need--”
His fingers cupped my chin. “If you really feel that strongly about this, we can talk about it later.”
I couldn’t deny he loved me. That was the reason he did what he did. “You have to trust me, Daddy. I can take care of myself.”
He nodded. “It’s not you I worry about. It’s other people.”
I gripped his wrists. “I won’t do anything without clearing it with you and Mother first, I promise, just—”
“I know you won’t,” he nodded. “You and I can have a more in depth discussion later. I want you to meet your new companion.”
My feet rooted to the marble beneath them. “You hired him already? Without letting me meet him first?”
“We’ve talked briefly about the situation. He’s very interested.
Come meet him.”
CHAPTER THREE
Mother faced us, her ivory skin glowing against her emerald green sweater and slacks. The stranger’s back was toward us. He wore jeans and a black sweater. His tall, lean form, his black mussed hair sparked a memory in my head. When Mother’s flirtatious eyes shifted to Daddy and me, the stranger turned.
My breath stalled.
Colin Brennen.
Dimples flashing, he grinned, shooting a sparkling of white into the room. His charisma bounced off the walls of the room like a captured star.
Mother moved to his side, threading her arm through his.
“Ashlyn, you remember Colin, don’t you?”
Daddy’s placed a palm at my shoulder, urging me to move closer.
“Of course she remembers him.”
Colin extended a hand and stepped my direction. “Hey, Ashlyn.
Good to see you again.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Let’s have none of this. Come now. Friends embrace when they see each other.” Mother’s hands waved, gesturing for Colin and me to move closer. Suddenly he was flush against me, his warmth heating me from head to toe. Citrus cologne drove a twinge through my body.
Colin’s arms enveloped me. I froze, my stomach a jumble of tightening knots. His body was solid as an oak against mine. My heart banged out of rhythm, my feet itched to back away.
Daddy’s gaze sharpened, but his practiced smile remained in place.
Colin released me and stepped back. He’d no doubt hugged zillions of girls—an encounter like this wouldn’t faze him at all. I swallowed, hoping the blockage in my throat would go away, but his eyes, endlessly black and locked on mine, paralyzed me.
“Isn’t this simply marvelous, you two reunited?” Mother gushed.
“Let’s catch up over dinner shall we? There’s so much to talk about.
We’ll start with you, Colin.” With that, Mother took Colin’s arm, squeezing in close. “I hope you’re hungry. Our chef Gavin is world-class.”
<> <> <>
My stomach, still knotted, didn’t allow me to digest dinner.
Mother suggested I sit directly across from Colin, a strategic move I didn’t appreciate. Every time I lifted my gaze—to pat my linen napkin at my lips or sip water—Colin’s intense eyes pinned me to my seat. Nerves tied my muscles into unresponsive bundles. I didn’t even know what was being said—only catching scattered sentences: that Colin was attending NYU; he was studying accounting and had had a hard time finding a job. Then, Colin set down his fork.
“Ashlyn, what have you been up to?” he asked.
I met his penetrating gaze. “Not much.”
“Oh, come now darling.” Mother’s face gleamed. “Colin, she’s too modest to say but she’s a very gifted composer. She’s going to graduate first in her class from Chatham and she’s already been awarded the Golden Trust award for excellence. She’s got Julliard knocking on her door.”
“Yes. Ashlyn is exceptional,” Daddy added. “She’ll play for you later, won’t you, Princess?”
A dense silence followed. I was sure my pounding heart could be heard over the thickening tension. Mother and Daddy routinely bragged about me to their friends, but with Colin—an old next door neighbor who used to bully and torment me—I felt like I was splayed on the table for vivisecting. I kept my gaze on my plate, spoon tearing into the delicate meringue clouds until they were nothing but mush.
“Of course she will,” Mother said. “What do you think of our Ashlyn, Colin? Isn’t she marvelous?”
My eyes flashed to Mother. Fiery heat burned my neck and cheeks. Why was she asking him such an outrageous question?
“Yes, she is, Fiona,” Colin said.
Mother pushed her barely eaten plate of dessert aside. “It’s so wonderful having you here. It brings back so many memories.
Remember all of those imaginative games you used to play as children?”
I hardly considered them games.
“I’d never heard such scenarios—from pirates to slaves in haunted castles. Remember those, darling?” Mother looked at me, waiting for a response.
“Yes.” My voice came out an embarrassingly weak whisper. “I remember.” I’d been the slave.
Daddy lifted a gold box sitting next to his place setting, opened it and extended the array of cigars to Colin, who shook his head. Then, he plucked a cigar, put it in his mouth and lit it. “Do you still run?”
Daddy closed the box and set it on the table.
“When I can.” Colin’s curious gaze skipped from Daddy to Mother to me. “How did you know?”
“I seem to remember you ran track in high school. Sounds like you could use more personal time for yourself.”
I wasn’t surprised Daddy had checked Colin’s background. What I couldn’t believe was that he was considering hiring someone he knew I despised as my bodyguard. I’d grown to hate Stuart. Now Colin?
“How much time does Phil spend on the golf course, now that he’s retired from the Marines? ” Daddy asked.
Colin grinned. “As much time as he can.”
“We hope you’ll join our family, Colin,” Mother chattered.
“Ashlyn’s simply a doll to be around. Having a friend here will be just wonderful. You know us and we know you. There’ll be no awkward moments between us. Isn’t that a fabulous thing?”
“Princess.” Daddy sat forward, eyes pinned to mine. “Take Colin up and show him the view from the roof.”
Alone? With Colin? My nerves twisted. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”
Daddy inhaled his cigar, then held, allowing the moment to smoke. “You take him,” he said, white plumes hissing out with his words.
Colin’s dark eyes were waiting for mine. The idea of him watching me sent a foreign fluttering through my body.
“Yes, sir.” I stood, tossed my napkin down and silently turned to lead Colin out of the room.
Colin followed me up the winding stairway, our shoes echoing against frigid marble. What to say to someone you never liked? I remained silent, jittery, his presence pressing into my back.
“This place is huge,” he murmured. “Reminds me of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.”
We’d gone to Disneyland together once. Colin and I had shared most every ride, being the only children. The memory raced through my hea
d like a rollercoaster. He’d dared me to ride the Matterhorn until I finally gave in, and sat with me in the front. “I’ll take care of her,” he’d said to our parents who waited for us at the ride’s exit.
Once we were strapped into the bobsled, he proceeded to tell me horror stories of kids falling to their deaths, giggling at my terrified reaction. He’d screamed along with me on the fast turns and head-whipping drops of the ride.
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