OVERPROTECTED (8 page)

Thankfully, he didn’t ask me how my day was—like I was in kindergarten. I tried to keep a good two feet ahead of him, my stride fast, but his extra height and long legs soon had him walking by my side. In my peripheral vision I caught him glancing at me.

Eddy ended his conversation with the other driver and came to the back of the car, ready to open my door.

“Miss Adair.” He swung open the door and the scent of leather and coffee wafted into my nose. I slid in.

Colin got in after me and Eddy shut the door.

I kept my gaze out the window, embarrassed to have tried to do something as simple as go off campus for lunch and then have to explain myself. Of course, it wasn’t Colin’s fault. Daddy’s insistence that I keep ridiculous rules was the problem.

Still, I didn’t know what to say to Colin after such a fail. I wasn’t sorry, so I wouldn’t apologize. I’d do it again if the opportunity arose.

But what if Daddy tightened the reins even more?

My insides crumbled.
You shouldn’t have broken the rules. You
should have continued to bide your time.
When my birthday came, life would change whether my parents wanted to accept me turning eighteen or not.

Eddy rarely made small talk with me on the drive home. Today, he remained silent, sipping his Starbucks. Had Colin discussed what had happened with him? Would Colin tell Daddy?

CHAPTER SIX

My cell phone vibrated and I pulled it out of my book bag.

Felicity.

let me kno what your dad says k

k

Colin was watching me, his look halfway between curious and annoyed. “What?” I snapped.

“Nothing.” He turned his gaze out the window. At that moment, I wanted to jump into his head and read his thoughts. Bugged that I cared, annoyed that I didn’t know what he was thinking, I yanked my iPod from the depths of my book bag, shoved the earbuds in my ears and cranked up the music.

Eddy dropped Colin and I off in front of the townhouse and then merged into traffic to go pick up Daddy.

My back to Colin, I stood at the door, and tapped the code into the security pad. The door beeped and Colin reached around me, his chest brushing my arm when he thrust the door open. I shivered.

Without meeting his gaze, I entered the townhouse. I took the marble stairs up two-at-a-time. Was I imagining his intimidating gaze following me? Or was guilt making me paranoid? I didn’t have the nerve to verify with a glance.

I slammed my bedroom door. Then cringed.
He’s going to think
you’re a baby, slamming doors and acting like a prima donna.

I tossed my book bag on my bed, unzipped it and pulled out what homework awaited me. I flopped on my stomach, opened my folders and stared at my assignments. And sighed.

Colin. Pressing me against the door. Kissing me.

Mother’s voice floated from downstairs. I jerked upright. She was never here when I got home, always out with her friends, shopping or attending some event. Colin’s voice mixed with hers.

I hopped to my feet, ran to the door and cracked it open.

“Did Ashlyn behave?”

I covered my mouth to quiet a gasp as I crept to the stairs so I could hear better.

“She was fine, Fiona.”

“Good. I don’t approve of feisty behavior. We simply do not allow it.”

I remained poised at the hall corner, where I peered down the curved stairs and saw the back of Mother’s head and Colin’s face.

Colin shifted, appearing itchy. He crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze flicked from Mother’s face and caught me. I jerked back.
Oh no.
I clenched my fists.
This day couldn’t get more humiliating.

Only one thing truly soothed every emotion plaguing me. I quickly headed to the music room and shut the double doors.

I sat at the piano and let out a sigh. When my fingers touched the keys, my eyes closed and frustration ebbed on contact with the instrument. Even the familiar repetition of scales soothed. Over and over my fingers played up and down the keyboard. How long I played, I don’t know, but when I looked out the large, floor-to-ceiling windows facing Park Avenue, the sky was dark and lights glowed from the buildings.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

what did u r dad do?

not home yet

ate chinese gonna barf now cya

I laughed. Felicity’s parents ate Chinese food three times a week.

Felicity often joked that her hair was starting to grow in rice noodles.

“Ashlyn?” Mother stood in the open double doors of the music room. Today she wore a cinnamon colored suit from Dior—one of her favorite designers. “Come down for dinner, please.”

“I’ll take it in my room tonight.”

She cocked her head. “Whatever for?”

“I’ve got tons of homework. I’ll be up all night.”

“And that’s why you’re playing?”

I stiffened. “I’m unwinding.”

“Dinner.” Mother’s chin firmed. “In five minutes. In the dining room.” She turned and vanished, leaving the doors open.

Would Colin eat with us? Mother had rarely allowed Stuart that luxury. My empty stomach growled, but not for food.

Mother and Daddy insisted on three things: manners, respect, and compliance. Obedience was my middle name. As I matured, I understood why Mother and Daddy had only one child: going through the process of raising another human being was more time and energy consuming than they had expected. One child graduating through the steps meant they could get it right the first time, the only time, and be done.

Had I opted to not go down to the dining room for dinner, Daddy would have gotten an earful from Mother, then come upstairs and, in his lawyer-mode, explained to me that he made the effort to be home for dinner—not always an easy task—and that I should show my love and respect for his efforts by joining them.

We’d had this discussion when I was younger.

I stood at the top of the stairs, ready to burst from the combustion of frustration, anger and tears. Cold black and white marble stairs curved in a soft spiral below me to the entry.

Chances were that Colin wouldn’t be eating dinner with us, since Stuart hadn’t. At least I could eat without worrying about the meal becoming a part one of yet another lecture series on my safety.

Mother’s sing-song voice bounced off the walls of the entry and flew out the open glass doors of the dining room. Who was she blabbing to on her cell phone?

I came around the corner and stalled in the doorway. Colin sat at the table.

“Gavin cooks a lot of French cuisine because we absolutely adore it. The duck is marvelous, Colin. Trust me. Oh, Ashlyn darling.”

Mother’s smile glittered from across the room. If Colin hadn’t been sitting there, she’d be giving me the silent treatment.

Colin’s presence pulled me. I couldn’t help staring at him. He still wore the black clothing he’d worn earlier. The contrast caused his dark hair to shine against his smooth skin. His eyes held mine like dissecting pins.

“I talked Ashlyn into dining with us.” Mother sat across from Colin.

Colin’s brows lifted slightly. “Really?”

I cringed inwardly and crossed to my chair—on Mother’s right, also across from Colin—and sat.

“Apparently she has a lot of homework.” Mother poured herself some water from a crystal pitcher. “But family dinners are not optional in our house, are they young lady?”

Humiliation heated my cheeks and ears. I didn’t dare meet Colin’s gaze. What did he think of Mother calling me ‘young lady?’

“I think that’s great.” Colin reached for the pitcher, his long fingers wrapping around the delicate handle. I lifted my gaze. His brown eyes watched me intently. “Family time is becoming extinct.”

Don’t let him intimidate you. This is your house. You can do dinner.

I sat erect and held my hand out, indicating I wanted the pitcher when he was done.

“Ash-lyn.” Mother’s tone checked the air. “Ask for the water properly.”

Another flash of fire heated my cheeks. I swore pity veiled Colin’s expression as he handed me the pitcher. Or was it contempt?

“May I have the water, please?” I asked squeezing out words between teeth.

“What’s gotten into you?” Mother sat erect, her forearms poised on the edge of the table.

I poured water into my goblet, and the sound of ice clinking against glass broke the tense air. “Nothing.”

“Well.” Mother’s brow arched in that I-don’t-approve way. “Lose the attitude before your father comes to the table.”

I let out a slow, controlled breath. Had I really expected Mother to change the way she treated me—even in front of an old family friend like Colin?
Fine. I’ll spend the meal in Stepford mode.

“Good evening.” Daddy entered the room in a swift walk. I’d never seen him in the courtroom but had imagined him often gliding in, commanding the attention of everyone in the room in the magnetic, powerful way of a ring master.

His blue eyes smiled even as he assessed the situation in the dining room with one efficient sweep. He didn’t remove his ice-gray suit jacket, merely unbuttoned the buttons as he leaned over and extended his hand to Colin.

“Colin.”

“Charles.”

Daddy came to me and kissed the top of my head. “Princess.”

Then, he sat at the head of the table. With a smooth flick of his wrist, he plucked the cloth napkin and laid it in his lap. I glanced at Mother—Daddy hadn’t even acknowledged her. Her attention was riveted to Colin.

Spices filled the air with a soothing aroma. I hadn’t looked at the artfully displayed meal sitting in the center of the table, too distracted with Colin and the inevitability of him dropping the bomb of what had happened at lunch today.

As food was passed and dished up, my fisted nerves tightened even more. Why doesn’t he just tell Daddy and get it over with? I glanced at Colin, my gaze caught helplessly on the way his cheeks creased as he chewed, hinting dimples.

Dinners were usually silent with the exception of Daddy asking about my day. Tonight, Mother talked more than she ate.

“How do you like the meal?” Mother asked Colin.

“It’s the first home-cooked meal I’ve had since I moved here.”

Mother cleared her throat at the term ‘home cooked.’ “Have you spent much time on the Upper East Side, Colin?” she asked.

Colin swallowed. “Not really. School’s kept me pretty busy.”

“Is that where you lived?”

He nodded.

“Some of those areas are charming. Where was your apartment?” Mother seemed uninterested in meal. Her elbows were planted on the table and her eyes were glued to Colin.

I glanced at Daddy, eating in silence, like me. Every now and then his light blue eyes rested on Colin with interest.

“I have a place on Charles Street.”

“Have?” Mother’s brows arched. “You’re keeping your apartment?”

As if he sat on hot coals, Colin shifted.

“A smart move,” Daddy piped. “The sign of someone who is prepared.”

“Yes, but he’s employed here. As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with your level of commitment,” Mother said.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m committed, Fiona.” Colin reached for his water goblet.

He seemed jittery, like he had been earlier in the car. Was he uncomfortable in the spotlight? A grin slipped onto my lips just as Colin’s eyes met mine.

My smile vanished, but I held his querying gaze until his attention shifted to his half-eaten meal.

“Are you dating anyone, Colin?” Mother asked.

His fork paused before cutting into the duck flesh.

“Fiona, we don’t need to interrogate the boy,” Daddy chuckled.

“I’m not interrogating.” Mother finally picked up her fork. “Just catching up with an old family friend.”

“It’s his business, not ours.” Daddy’s tone sharpened even though he smiled. I knew the silent encoding well: topic over.

“How did it today go?” Daddy waited for Colin’s answer. My nerves prickled.

“Everything went well,” Colin said without a hitch.

“I expected as much. Ashlyn’s an obedient girl. You won’t need to report to me unless something comes up.” Daddy’s firm tone was meant to remind both Mother and Colin of Colin’s job—in spite of sharing a meal with us and being an old family friend.

Colin nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Rebellion scraped my spine raw.
An obedient girl?
And why did Colin refer to Daddy as sir? Stuart had, but Colin had called Daddy Charles. When had that changed? For some reason, I didn’t like Colin using the term.

“Sir?” I quipped, reaching for my water.

Daddy’s head tilted my direction. Silence engulfed the room.

“He called you Charles when he arrived. And Charles just now when he shook your hand.”

“Ashlyn.” Mother’s edgy tone warned me I tread on glass.

I held Daddy’s curious and amused gaze. “You don’t like him calling me that, Princess?”

“It’s a term of respect,” Colin interjected, seeming embarrassed that I’d singled the issue out.

“One I insist on from my employees,” Daddy reminded me.

“Oh, and from your daughter,” I snapped at him. “I call him that too. Hard to believe, right? He’s my father after all. But he insists on it.” I jerked to my feet and tossed my napkin to the table. “Excuse me. Sir.”

Mother’s eyes bulged. “Ashlyn!”

“I asked to be excused.” I left the room, half expecting Mother’s whispered indignation to snatch my ankles and pull me back to the table. I took the stairs up, fury pumping my legs. My bedroom door slammed behind me, and I cringed, knowing full well that the sound echoed throughout the house.

A few minutes later one firm knock followed, and the door opened. Daddy stood in the frame, his face stony. He stepped into the room and shut the door at his erect back. “You want to tell me what’s bothering you, Princess?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

The taut skin on his face softened and he stepped closer. “My mistake. I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”

A jumble of emotions rolled through me: confusion at my feelings for Colin, frustration about my protected life, and the strongest yearning I’d ever felt urging me toward… what? Freedom, yes, but something more…