OVERPROTECTED (3 page)

Hiding anything from him was as futile as a mouse hiding cheese from a rat. My day couldn’t get worse, I was already a prisoner of his obsessive fear. Maybe if I told the truth, he’d let me keep the book. “I ran into Colin Brennen.”

His eyes widened for a millisecond. He took in a deep breath, looked off for a long, tense moment before his gaze met mine again.

“How is he?”

My pounding heart notched up. “I passed him on the street. I don’t think he recognized me.”

His teeth gleamed in a smile. “How could he forget a face like yours?” He handed back the book. I took it, my face heating, fingers trembling. “Colin was, what, three or four years older than you?”

Three. The bully had rubbed the years in my face. I shrugged, keeping my focus on my book. At least Daddy let me keep it.

“How did he look?”

“Older.”

Daddy chuckled and sat down next to me on the bed. “The last time you saw him you were twelve if I have my facts right.”

He always had his facts right. “I don’t remember.”

“No matter.” His tone was grave. “I wish you had come to me about Stuart when you’d first felt uncomfortable. Did he do anything, ever touch you in any way that was inappropriate or—”

“No, Daddy.” I fingered the book in an effort to disguise my trembling hands. “I just didn’t like—”

“Explain to me what happened.”

“He just got angry, so he… was forceful.”

Daddy’s gaze burned a line through my chest, as if trying to open my heart and peer inside. He let out a sigh of displeasure. “That’s inexcusable, but his admittance that he’s fallen in love with you was enough for me to fire him.”

Disgust rumbled through my system at Stuart’s admission.

Daddy reached out and patted my head. “I don’t mean to upset you, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” Long, taut pause. “Please.”

Daddy’s finger lifted my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “I’ll forgive this excursion today, Ashlyn, and I assume you are too upset by what’s happened with Stuart to give me specifics. But disrespect to your mother or me is not allowed. Understood?”

I nodded.

He rose, smiled.

“I’m too old for Princess, Daddy.”

“You’re still my little girl.”

“I’m going to be eighteen soon.”

His gaze lingered, a shadow of what looked like melancholy on his face. “Since when did you like to read romances?”

A knot formed in my throat. “Oh, not very long.”

“Your mother used to enjoy those.” He turned and strolled to the door. There, he paused, eyeing me over his courtroom smile. “If you’d like, we can go for a walk later.”

“Maybe.”

“Let me know.” He opened the door, went out, turned one last time. “Love you, Princess.”

Frustration bubbled beneath my skin. My cell phone vibrated from the top of the table next to my bed. I crawled over and plucked it up. Only one person texted or called me: my friend Felicity Gordon. We met at Chatham Academy when we were both freshmen. Through the years as other friends had sloughed away—my parents picking who was a safe choice—Felicity had endured. Her conservative parents and, like me, her only child status resonated with Mother and Daddy. And Felicity was not what my parents considered a social threat. Few guys looked beyond her full figure and through her glasses to see how kind and fun she was. Still, Daddy openly checked my cell phone bill for phone numbers he didn’t recognize. If I wanted to keep my line to the outside world, I had to carefully screen who I connected with.

hey

wanna hang?

love
to, but doubt possible daddy fired stuart.

what?????

long story

calling

My phone rang.

“The watch dog is gone?” Felicity sounded as shocked as I’d been earlier. “What brought that on?”

I looked at the photo sitting on the side table next to my bed, taken on one of the few nights I’d been allowed to have her sleep over. Felicity had brought me my romance books. Did Daddy know that? I grinned. Probably not, or Felicity might not be allowed to come over.

“I told Daddy he’d been coming on to me.”

Felicity gasped, then laughed. “Oh, man, he must have been royally pissed. I’m surprised he didn’t shoot the guy.”

“He fired him on the spot. But get this, Stuart admitted to being in love with me. Sick.”

“I knew it! Ewww. That’s just wrong.”

“I’m so relieved. Maybe Daddy will finally come to his senses about all of this.”

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.