That much, I already understand about him.
“Give me a second.
I’m getting changed.”
I hurry through pulling on a T-shirt and sweats before unlocking the bedroom door.
I don’t open it for him, though, sitting on the foot of my bed instead.
It still hurts a little, but not too much.
If anything, the ache is nice.
I hope he never finds out because I would die of embarrassment.
He opens the door slowly, hanging his head a little.
“Hey.”
I notice he’s wearing different clothes now-he was still dressed when he caught up with me, and it occurs to me he never got ready for bed.
He was waiting for me to sneak out.
I have to take a deep breath and calm myself down enough not to start a fight.
If I’m easy to read, that’s nobody’s fault but my own.
“Hey.”
“That might have gotten out of hand.”
He looks at the floor, the wall, the dresser, my desk.
Not at me, though.
Running a hand over the back of his neck-the hand he used on me-he grunts softly.
“I lost control.”
“I know.”
Then he does something that takes me by surprise.
Instead of growling or acting all macho or whatever, he lets out a soft sigh.
The kind of sigh that makes his shoulders slump and his body sort of sag.
“We can’t keep going on like this.”
He sounds like himself, but different.
Like his whole big, badass image is just that.
An image.
Something he puts on like he’d put on his leather jacket.
“I agree.”
I’m not going to give him too much.
I want to see where he’s going with this.
“So you know.
I could yell at you a little more and call you spoiled and stubborn and all that shit, and I partly believe that, but at the end of the day, I think you need to remember you’re not the only one who’s a little lost in all this.”
“You?
Lost?”
“Yeah.”
That’s enough to make him look me in the eye, and now I wish I hadn’t said anything.
There’s outright disgust in his eyes, in the way his lip curls.
“Lost.
Congratulations, you got me to admit it.”
“But how?
I don’t get it.”
“Obviously.”
He hooks his thumbs into his pockets-seriously, even their pajama pants get pockets when I can’t get pockets on a simple dress-and lowers his brow.
“You think this is fun for me?
There’s nothing in the world your father cares about more than you, and I’m the person who’s supposed to be keeping you out of trouble.”
“I wasn’t-“
“Let me finish.
You might not have gotten into trouble tonight, but that’s not the point.
I’m supposed to be with you.
You know, he calls me at all random times of the day and night.
Did you have any idea?”
“No,” I admit.
“I’m just waiting for the time he tells me to put you on the phone.
He’s going to test me, and he’s going to test you, too.”
He sighs again, looking away from me, toward the window.
“Do you have any idea the kind of man he is?
I mean, really?”
“He’s rich, and he has a lot of bodyguards and stuff like that.”
“Yeah.
He needs bodyguards.
Do you think…” He closes his eyes for a second before opening them again.
“Do you think he does that because he’s paranoid or because there’s a reason for it?”
My heart sinks.
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“You know what?
I don’t have the first idea.”
He chuckles ruefully before looking my way again.
God, he’s so fucking sexy, it’s ridiculous.
Now I wish more than ever he had taken things further.
I wouldn’t have stopped him.
“But if he was unhappy with me, rest assured, he’d find a way to let me know.
And I wouldn’t like it very much.”
“I know that.”
He throws his hands into the air.
“Then why do you keep doing this?
This is my ass here.
I’m trying to do the right thing by him, and you’re making it impossible.
I don’t like this any more than you do, believe me.
You think I want to watch over you twenty-four-seven?
You think I wouldn’t like to, I don’t know, make friends of my own?
Have a life?
I’m not allowed to leave your side.
What do you think that does to me?”
I hate to admit it, even to myself.
I never thought of it that way.
What is wrong with me?
I’ve always thought of myself as a decent person.
I mean, I don’t go around abusing small animals or anything like that.
I always try to be kind when I can.
I once kicked the shit out of a bully back in ninth grade when they were picking on another kid.
But I never put myself in his shoes.
I’ve only ever scorned him for doing his job.
“That must suck.
And it’s a lot of pressure.”
“No shit.”
He barks out a laugh that trails off quickly.
“So you see the position this is putting me in?
I know you don’t like it, but this is how it has to be.
So we’d better figure out a way to make this work.”
“Are you willing to compromise?”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“Your father’s daughter.
Yeah, I’d be willing to talk about a compromise.”
Great.
Now I have to come up with something.
“I can hang out with my friends when I want, where I want, and I understand you’ll come with me.”
His eyes narrow to slits.
I can practically see the wheels turning.
“Your friends come here.
I know who they are in advance in case I have to do any research into them.”
“What?
Are you going to run their credit reports?”
“Are you trying to shut down talks here?”
“No, fine.
What if I want to go shopping?”
“I’d have to go with you, anyway.
Remember?
Your card.
And no,” he adds when I open my mouth, “you’re not getting that.
Those are the rules.”
And he wants me to act friendly when he pulls a stunt like that?
“Fine.
But we agree I can go shopping if I want to.
Or out to get something to eat after class, that kind of thing?”
Again, he narrows his eyes.
“I drive the car.
You can have people in it with you, but you’re not getting into anybody else’s car.”
I can live with that.
“Okay.
Agreed.
But if I go out to eat, you’ve got to sit away from us.
Like at another table or a booth or something.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.