Duncan nods, and I take my cue to leave the room. I have nothing else to say, and in fact, I feel like I am robbing the moment from the person that truly benefits from it. I wonder how things will change for me now. If I will feel freer now that he is gone, or if I will feel even more trapped by this criminal existence being forced upon me. I suppose it all hangs on who the hell I am going to be forced to marry.
Chapter Fifteen
Duncan
"Domn, you know I will," I assure the man who has raised me to be a different man than I would have been had he left me on the street. I am glad that as I say this and watch as Kristof Adame clings to the last breaths of his life. Willow has left the room and I’m glad, she shouldn’t have to witness this. I am not a vulnerable man. Yeah, you can say it makes me weak or an ass, and I will agree with you. That’s fine with me.
But I can't do what I do and remain someone to fear without keeping a lot of what I feel locked away; even often training myself not to feel anything. But this man essentially saved me. I can’t feel nothing as he leaves this world.
I just can't.
And it fucking sucks.
"You know what she will have to learn, what she will have to do." I nod to let him know I get it. He need say no more. I know what this life will ask of her, and I can’t say I have never understood the reason why she wouldn't want a part of it. What have never known is the reason for her coldness to her own family and her own identity. Even with all the information I had been given in the beginning, I knew so little. Not that I should be wanting to fill in the emotional blanks. But for some reason with her, I do.
I tell myself that it is a craving to continue a closeness to the Adame family, but I dare not analyze and dig down for the real reason. I am not that kind of guy.
"Save your strength, Domn," I tell him with a serious look, and the man actually fucking chuckles through the coughing and all. But I can tell he won’t be saying anything else. He squeezes my hand and nods at me as if I am to know what that means. And I do.
It is time for me to leave. He won’t have anyone watch him actually go.
As I walk out, I am followed by all but his nurse, and even she faces away from him in his last moments. I don’t stand by to try and see if I can hear when his heart stops; I know very well it will be soon. His suffering will be over, and the Adame clan will officially belong to Willow, whether she wants it or not. My place now is with her. Of course, my place has always been with her.
But I realize I am not any more ready for this than she is, and that scares me more than anything. I am not a prepper. I can change my plans in no time flat depending on my orders or who comes for me or Domn.
I go and instantly dig into the supply of alcohol, not giving a shit that it is not even noon yet. The emotions are catching up with me as thoughts swirl in my head
that I never thought would be there. I hate it, and I need to shut it down. I am not good with them. They are not my friend, and they will only get both myself and Willow hurt.
I smirk as I find some bourbon and snatch it, taking it into my bedroom. If anything is going to make me feel right again in the world, it is that.
I pace back and forth between that room and the security room as I guzzle it down, only half paying attention to what is on the screens. I need to know where Willow is, but I am not interested in watching Kristof being declared dead and cleaned up and taken away. It makes mortality too real to watch that shit. I don’t know how people do those things for a living.
Harris walks in on me, and I glare at him, thinking back to the altercation we had back when he didn’t know who Willow was. He damn well sure will know now. I know for a fact that everyone was called in there last night, and Kristoff told them. He must have.
He better watch his damn mouth right now, he may end up on the other end of my gun. I am not in the mood right now.
"So, I guess I know why she was your job now," he says with a scoff. "Who knew the man fucked a chink. I guess the good thing in all of this is we won’t be left so vulnerable, but she doesn’t really look like she has the balls needed to run this show," he commented.
I slam him into the wall, growling at him like a wild animal. My hot, alcohol stinking breath is in his face, and I hope he vomits.
"I don’t know if Domn has taken his last breath or not, but you know what my fucking job is, and you know what I will do to anyone who disrespects the domn. She may end up needing to marry someone eventually, but for right now, to you, she is Domnişoară I don’t want to hear anything less from your mouth or I will cut your lips off with a carving kit."
I see the fear in his eyes, and I know I have crossed the line here. Yes, Willow is the leader here in the UK now. But that didn't mean because she didn’t know everything that I could just do what the hell I wanted. Ion would eventually find out and put me in my place, and then I wouldn’t be able to do what I had promised Kristof I would do. And it was that promise that truly had me reeling right now. And it was so ridiculous.
Am I upset about the loss of a man I had served for years with loyalty who had taken me off the streets? Yes, no matter how much of a hard ass dick I am, I am still human. When someone close to me dies, I still feel. But there is something else bugging the hell out of me that just shouldn't.
I go to my room and drink the last of the bourbon which I made damn sure to purchase after that first night with Willow, sitting on my bed and staring forward while not seeing anything. I think I am going to pass out with as much as I drank, and that was the plan all along. But it isn’t happening. My head is spinning, instead, with the growing thoughts, I had wanted to shove down until they were gone.
Domn wanted me to be loyal to Willow and protect her. He fucking apologized for what he said to me in his last moments. What did that mean? Did he think that I was worthy of his daughter? I knew that meant he wanted me to do it for life. I know this. I know how the man speaks and operates. My job is not over and has been passed onto another person, even if she gets herself another bodyguard at some point.
I will be by Willow's side until one of us dies, and since I am the one tasked with protecting her, I will likely be the one to go first. So, my life is with her.
The problem with that is that I can't see myself doing this.
It’s not the protecting part, don’t get me wrong. I have no issue protecting this woman, no matter how stubborn she is. Though, I can’t help but hope she will grow out of that eventually and make my job a bit easier. I want her to choose me…but I am not an idiot.
It's about what I know I will be around for in her life. I will very shortly be watching her date and fuck other men. Well, not literally. I don’t think she is into the whole voyeurism thing, but still, I will know it’s happening. She may have put up a fight, but I know Willow, and I know that she loves to please other people. What’s to say that she doesn’t attempt to please her father from the grave and date this Romanian man, Stefan?
I will be here when she marries her Romanian man, possibly even falls for him. She will have babies with another man – someone who isn’t me. All of it will be right before my eyes as I continue to protect her like some sentinel. I am not allowed to say anything, to feel anything, or to have a say other than the name I was given to start with by Domn himself.
And it will never involve me.
Fuck!
I know I am probably alerting the whole house to my feelings as I chuck the empty bottle at the wall across from me. Hopefully, they will just chalk it up to being all about Kristof's death. I bet they will think that's acceptable for me to have one day to grieve over that, right?
But this, the real reason, is completely unacceptable to me. Why should I fucking care what Willow does with another man if she marries another man?
I am not the one to be controlled or be vulnerable in any way because of a damn woman, even one as powerful as Willow is. And yet, here we are.
Here I am, throwing shit at the wall over her and wondering how in the wo
rld told to shut her out and shut this off. I have made it too damn personal, and don’t I know it.
I have to do it, I have to desensitize myself to her. And since I can't seem to pass out like I want, I will go and start now. Hopefully, we will be sitting in grief and silence anyway.
I sigh and change my clothes, rinse my mouth out so I don’t reek of booze. Then, I find her, back in the same room where I found her before, the den. This time, she is sitting, though. I lean against the wall next to her and pretend I am a statue.
That’s all I am in her life until she needs me. that’s how it should be. That’s my job.
Finally, she says something, and I am unsure for a minute is the reflective statement is meant for me, or if my presence is remaining like a ghost as it should be, and she is simply talking to herself.
"I don't know if even I have understood until this moment why I have always been so angry with my father. Sure, I have plenty of reasons to not be a fan of him. He has never proven himself worthy of the word. But it's not just that. Considering what his life is like, I can understand keeping us at a bit of a distance when I was younger. If it was for our safety. I even get the initial embarrassment that he had cheated on his wife. But it was about how he reacted after my mother died. That’s why I am so livid about it all. Why I started a new life and pretended like I could be someone else entirely forever."
She pauses for a moment and glances back at me where I am standing, making it clear that she is talking to me to some extent. I don’t know how I am meant to help her or what I am supposed to say. I get that I am likely all she has to talk to right now, but I can’t be that person.
"Once she was gone, he should have been there on some way for me, or he should have given me to someone else who would love me the way a parent should. But he kept me like a possession yet still didn’t even try to love me or get to know me," she finishes, shaking her head. I can't say I wouldn’t be pretty damn pissed about that as well, but right now, I just can’t be there for her. This is a mistake, being out there with her. It isn’t going to do what I think it will.
Or maybe, I can use this to my advantage.
I step in front of her and lean down, hearing her heartbeat quicken. I am not going to try and decipher whether it’s because she has a thing for me or just because she’s nervous what I might be up to.
I kiss her gently on the forehead, possibly more lingering than I mean to be, and then I tell her what I need to say. "I am here as your bodyguard," I remind her, and it comes out more cruelly than I originally intended. But, it is likely for the best. "I am not here to console you."
Chapter Sixteen
Willow
I am sitting in my room, one ankle crossed over the other, and reading a book. It is the most normalcy I have had in a while, but it isn’t doing a lot to make me feel like my old self or like I am at home. Part of me wants to insist we take whatever money is left for me and buy a new place, but that would be accepting that I am stuck in this life. I can't give up and accept that just yet.
The door suddenly opens, and I look up, startled to find none other than my cocky asshole babysitter right in front of me, throwing a garment bag down on my bed.
"Hasn't anyone ever taught you the common decency of knocking? You don't know what I was doing I here or what state of undress I could have been in," I told him, annoyed as I stared down at the garment bag with curiosity.
"Sorry, TOOTS," he says, emphasizing that word, and I want to choke him out right here. I have never pegged myself for a woman with violent tendencies, but this
American character could certainly bring the worst out in me. "But there is no privacy from your bodyguard, or any privacy for the clan leader, either.
Not really." I roll my eyes and put my book down.
"What's up with the bag. Do I not have enough pretty, expensive dresses in my closet?" I ask, pointing to the whole wardrobe that had been pre-arranged for my arrival. "I am sure whatever you think I should be doing doesn't require anything else."
"That’s where you're wrong. You have a date tonight, and you need to look worthy of your title when you meet this Romanian man, Willow," he tells me, almost like a scolding father.
I look up at him, incredulously. Not only is it completely insulting that he has made a date for me with basically a stranger, is telling me I have to go, and ordering me to wear something specific, but his behavior lately has me reeling. I opened up to him a bit, in a way I had no to anyone. I thought it would help us get along better if he understood why I felt the way I did about my father, especially with the bond that I saw that they had. I thought he just didn’t get me, didn’t get why I hated that man and his lifestyle since he had no issue with it. But he has gone completely cold, and I don’t get it. I don’t know what this is with the change of heart.
I shouldn’t really care. I am not supposed to like him or want him to like me. I am supposed to be planning my big escape from here, in which case, I would never see Duncan again. Yet, something is bothering me about the way he has taken any of his feelings back, even if they were only lustful, to begin with.
"You know I don't like this," I practically growled. "I do not believe in arranged marriages, and I would think, as an American, neither would you,"
I say pointedly.
Duncan scoffs and shakes his head at me. "You will wear this dress, and you will go on a date with the man I have chosen for you, Stefan Dalca, and you will smile and be polite even if you hate the guy." He crossed his arms as he practically spits the words at me. They sounded so cruelly.
"Not that it was wanted, but I was pretty sure that kiss the other night meant you felt even a twinge of something for me. Why would you want me seeing somebody else?"
I saw him run his hand through his light hair, looking away from me in frustration. I hit a nerve.
"This was one of your father’s orders," he finally answers as if this would explain everything. I mean to say something defiant and abhorrent about my father being dead now, but then a sick feeling overcomes my stomach, and I can't do it.
I may not agree one bit with the way Kristof Adame chose to raise me, to kidnap me and force me here to be his heir, but he was still a man who commanded respect, even beyond the grave. It feels wrong to insult him, and I suddenly think I get why I am being told to go on this date. Neither Duncan nor I are prepared to defy my father just yet, even if I am the leader of the UK clan now.
I glare at him, as to not let him think he has totally won, and reach to unzip the garment bag. What I see inside, I am almost afraid to touch because it looks so expensive and delicate. I have seen wedding dresses less detailed than this.
It is a teal green, the sleeves long and will go all the way down to my wrists. If I can guess by looking, the length will likely hit just above the knee. But, it is covered in lace in an intricate design that my eyes can't seem to adjust to no matter which way I look.
The underlayer of the dress is the same color green but only goes to input mid though and only as far up as to cover my breasts, it seems. But the lace covers
much of the next area with a peek-a-boo design for cleavage. The sleeves are nothing but lace detail and will show off my delicate skin, courtesy of my dual race; the English in me and the Korean from my mother.
"There will be someone coming to help with hair and makeup in about an hour." Duncan's voice has me looking away from the dress for the first time since laying eyes on it. "I hope it is to your liking as well as to Stefan's."
"Who is he?" I question as Duncan turns to leave the room. "Who is this man I am supposed to try and be okay with marrying?"
"He is someone you met at the Clan meeting. He is known to be very charming and is actively seeking a wife anyway. He was suggested by your father, and he is certainly not the worst of the men that he could have chosen."
I nod, not sure if I should thank him for this possible kindness in this messed up situation.
"It's just a date, Willow," he reminds me, just
turning his head to look at me.
"Yes, it is a formal one and an important one, but this is not the only man, just your father's best suggestion." His tone was even for once, no sarcasm or jokes, and not a hint of cruelty. I glanced sideways at him, but he left the room before I could say anything to him.
***
Two hours later I am staring at myself in the mirror, seeing someone I don't necessarily recognize. Not that I don't think I am a beautiful girl. I am not one of those wallflowers waiting for someone to give me a complement. I know I have a very delicate and unique beauty, but this is different. They have given me an edge that I always feel on the inside but never reflect on my outside.
The dress fits perfectly, and the material actually feels quite nice. I suppose it's right what they say about you get what you pay for. I am glad the price tag was not on this because I likely would have fainted.
My eyes are black with a hint of plum eyeshadow that makes them look mysterious and smoky.
All of my angles point to my pink mouth, and my hair has been curled expertly and fluffed out so that it seems to never end no matter where I look. My ears are weighed down by a string of flower shaped crystals that hit the side of my neck when I move my head. I never would have picked such things for myself, but I think it is perfect for meeting a man that I want to be cautious about. I don't want to appear too eager, too vulnerable, or too bitter. He knows nothing of my plight or my hatred of my father or his ways, I am sure. And I cannot expect him to. Even if I choose him, which I am going to fight against until the end, he will likely not be my confidant.
I realize this.
I am soon led out to a black car, flanked by two of the men my father had hired before I came back around. Duncan is not coming with me, and I can't help but think that it has something to do with that night still. It's likely for the best.
The windows are tinted, and I feel suffocated between these two men in the back seat with me even if there is plenty of room and they are not the worst body guards a woman could ask for. I stare straightforward and wonder what to expect until we finally come to a stop alongside a similar vehicle. My door suddenly opens, and a hand, a man's hand, reaches in to help me out like a polite gentleman. I find myself looking into a pair of smiling, dark eyes, belonging to a man in a white suit. Yes, I have seen this man before, and turn up the side of my mouth in greeting. I have to admit to myself that he looks dashing even if I do not want to fall for him and marry him. He is certainly easy on the eyes.
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