He goes to his desk, and I follow him.
After gesturing for me to take a seat, he sits in his leather chair and leans back with a sigh.
I settle into my chair, though I’m not quite as ready to get comfortable as he is.
Something’s off.
I didn’t get to be as good as I am at my job without honing my senses and trusting my instincts.
That, plus the many years I’ve known him, tells me he’s about to drop a big piece of news.
And he doesn’t disappoint.
“This party tonight.
I’ll need you to be there, guarding Mia.”
I eye him up over the rim of my glass.
“You think there’ll be trouble?”
I ask before taking a sip of the smooth liquor.
It burns a familiar, welcome trail down my throat, warmth spreading in my chest.
“Nothing like that,” he assures me.
“You’ll be more of a silent message.
A reminder.”
“Hands off?”
I suggest with a wry smirk.
“Always,” he agrees, chuckling.
“But also a reminder of the excellent care that was taken with her all semester.
Anybody takes a look at you, and they’ll know for sure no swinging dick got anywhere near my girl.”
None except mine.
That’s not even the worst part of what he’s saying.
Is this how all fathers treat their daughters?
It can’t be.
From day one, he’s been obsessed with keeping her a virgin.
Do people truly care about that so much?
It’s bizarre and way over the line between healthy and twisted.
Why would anybody at this party care-
Oh, no.
Why didn’t I see it?
It was right there in front of me.
Thanksgiving.
Business arrangements, travel.
And a dinner party tonight, coincidentally the day Mia returned from school.
A jangling noise reaches my ears, and I realize it’s the ice in my glass.
I will myself to be still, to stop shaking.
“You know I’m always here to handle whatever you need.”
“Lucky for you, you won’t have to worry about it much longer.”
His smile is indulgent and maybe the happiest I’ve ever seen from him.
“You’ve done excellent work, guarding my most cherished possession.
By summer, she won’t be your problem anymore.”
“Do you plan on kicking her out?”
He bursts out laughing.
“No-well, not quite kicking her out.
The wedding is in June.”
I know what he’s saying, but still, there’s a part of my brain that won’t accept it.
“Whose wedding?”
His head snaps back with a look of disbelief on his face.
“Mia’s, of course!
I told you that was always the endgame.
Now, everything’s settled.
The contract’s been signed, and everything is in place.”
Focus.
Calm.
How the hell did I manage half the jobs I’ve pulled off in the past ten years if I can’t handle this?
Even my father wondered how I could be so icy and detached while planning to stalk and murder the boss’s enemies.
He didn’t have to worry about it long since somebody took him out when I was eighteen.
And in the seven years since, I’ve only got harder.
Now?
The idea of a wedding has me fighting to keep a straight face.
He’s actually doing it.
I can’t believe he’s doing it this soon.
“I don’t have to ask whether she knows,” I murmur, gripping the glass for all it’s worth.
It’s all that’s holding me together, the feel of it in my hand.
The ice’s cold flowing into my palm and my fingers.
I focus on it, struggling to contain my reaction.
“I planned to tell her before the party.
She’ll meet her husband tonight, along with the rest of his family.”
“With all due respect, it might be easier on her if she finds out well in advance of the party.”
He arches an eyebrow, his smile sliding away.
“Explain.”
I’ve heard that sound in his voice before, and it doesn’t bode well.
But fuck, I have to do something.
I have to keep her in mind, even if he won’t.
“You know how emotional she gets,” I explain, rolling my eyes.
I hardly know what I’m saying.
It’s like another part of my brain kicked into gear to protect me from stepping over the line and ending up with a bullet in my brain.
“You don’t want her throwing a fit in front of your guests.
Not a great first impression.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“See?
This is why I rely on you.
You’re right.
I don’t want her causing some big, emotional scene.
She’ll probably have a lot of questions and maybe some worries.”
You fucking think so?
Genius.
“I’d be glad to go up to her room and let her know you want to see her.”
I’m practically out of the chair already, my body straining to break free, wanting to burst out of this room and run up the stairs.
To throw open her door, pick her up, and make a run for it.
“Not yet.”
He checks his watch.
“Give her a little time to settle in first.
I’ll need you to stick around close to her room in case she gets any ideas about throwing a fit up there.
I need her on her best behavior for this.”
“Naturally.”
I’m like a robot, churning out what I know he wants to hear.
My mind is miles away, conflict raging like a storm in my skull.
What do I do?
I didn’t know it would be this soon.
I thought we had time.
“What does this do to her plans for next semester?
She’s already registered for classes and all that.”
“If it’s that important to her, she can finish out the year.”
What a fucking prince.
“So long as she promises to behave herself and to keep herself in good shape for the wedding.
She’ll have wedding planning stuff to handle along with her schoolwork, of course.”
He shrugs like it’s all too far beyond him to give it much thought.
Suddenly, he hits me with a hard stare.
“I trust she’s returning to me in the same condition in which she left?”
No need for an explanation there.
I nod before taking another swig of bourbon.
I hardly taste it now.
“That’s good.
I wouldn’t want to renege on one of the conditions of the contract.”
Good thing I’ve already swallowed, or I’d end up spitting expensive bourbon on an even more expensive desk.
“That was one of the conditions?
That she be… you know…”
“Untouched.
Pure.”
These people are fucking sick.
He makes it sound totally normal to be this obsessed with his daughter’s virginity.
“Her future husband wants to be sure she’s saved herself for him, and only him.”
“Would it be out of line to ask who she’s been… promised to?”
I came dangerously close to using the word
sold.
If I’m not careful, I won’t live long enough to warn her about what’s coming.
“Philip Rinaldi’s son, Eric.
He’s been to the house before.”
Yes, and I remember exactly who he is-and the sour taste he left in my mouth.
Nothing I can put my finger on.
I just got a bad feeling about the guy.
He’s around my age, maybe a couple of years older, and unlike Mia, he’s been raised in this world.
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.