Overprotected, Page 2

  Daddy stood, one hand reaching out. I crossed to him and gave him a hug, his spunky cologne familiar, the feel of his slick suit firm, cool and unyielding against my body. “How’s my girl?” He studied me, his lawyer-sharp gaze searching for anything out of perfect alignment in my life.

  “I’m good. How are you?”

  He stepped to the chair to the right of his and pulled it out for me. I sat.

  “Long day. I’m glad to be home.”

  “That’s what Mother said.” I plucked my intricately folded cloth napkin from the left of my place setting and spread it over my lap.

  Mother looked up from her BlackBerry. “Agatha won’t leave me alone about Adam. She insists we introduce him to Ashlyn. He’s in his thirties.”

  And bald. I’d seen photos of the guy in society trades Mother occasionally shared with me.

  Daddy’s deciphering gaze still scrutinized me. Did he see that I was angry at Stuart? Frustrated with my protected life? That I had disobeyed, sneaking out for a walk this afternoon?

  I ate my salmon salad with my eyes downcast.

  “The age difference doesn’t bother me as much as his past,”

  Mother prattled on. “He’s thirty something and single for a reason—

  in his case, countless reasons, all of them tall, slender and money hungry.”

  “He’s not good enough for Ashlyn.” Daddy’s sharp tone landed like his will: iron clad and final, over the room.

  “I’m only seventeen,” I said. Even though I’d be eighteen in a few months, pairing me with a thirty-something was ridiculous. And arranging my marriage? No way I was going to let them do that.

  Silence followed. My stomach fisted. We’d had this conversation before, with Mother and Daddy orchestrating everything from where I would attend college (somewhere close by so they could keep an eye on me) to when I went shopping, always with Mother or Stuart—usually both.

  I set aside my napkin and cleared my tight throat. “I think Stuart needs to be dismissed.”

  Mother’s fork froze midway to her lips. Daddy’s firm jaw stopped in the middle of chewing. They both stared at me. I swallowed. “He’s been here three years now. He’s become too comfortable with me.”

  Daddy’s jaw rotated once. He swallowed, shifted and his blue eyes iced. “Define too comfortable.”

  “He…” Fear and relief rushed through me at the same time.

  Condemning Stuart was the first step to freedom, I was certain.

  “He… touched me today.”

  Mother gasped. Daddy’s eyes bulged. “Not like that,” I clarified.

  “He grabbed my arm… because he was mad at me.”

  Fire blazed in Daddy’s countenance, reddening his smooth skin.

  For a moment, I wished I hadn’t said anything, afraid he’d explode like he did sometimes when one of his employees disappointed him.

  “Why would Stuart be angry at you?” Mother whispered, her auburn brows drawing tight over her green eyes.

  They couldn’t find out I’d gone on a walk, not only would Stuart be fired, but the grave I lived in would be dug even deeper.

  “I think he’s…in love with me.”

  Mother’s hand went to her lips. She sat back in her chair as if blown there by a gust of disbelief. Daddy set aside his napkin, reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

  I swallowed.

  After he’d tapped in a number, his gaze met mine. “Ashlyn, I’d like you to leave the dining room please. I need to speak to Stuart alone.”

  The double doors swung open and Stuart smiled in. He slipped his cell phone into the front pocket of his slacks. “Yes, Mr. Adair?”

  I stood, set my napkin over my salmon and excused myself, passing Stuart with a smug glance beneath lowered lashes. Confusion flashed on his face. The doors shut behind me.

  In the empty hall, I pressed my back against the wall and let out a sigh. It was almost over. Stuart would be fired, I was certain of that, and though I was pretty sure Daddy would want to hire another bodyguard, my plan was to convince him I was capable of taking care of myself.

  Raised voices leaked out from the dining room, echoing off the cold marble floor of the empty hall. Daddy—shouting at Stuart.

  Stuart’s pleas, at first desperate, were finally smothered by Daddy’s booming commands.

  The doors flew open. Stuart stormed out. I hid in the darkness of a doorway. He continued toward the entry, and took the stairs up two at a time.

  Daddy appeared, looked left, then right, his piercing gaze catching me. “Ashlyn, come inside please.”

  Fear tripped my heart. He waited in the open door and I passed him, his penetrating gaze cutting open my back, following me to my chair. I sat. He sat. Mother’s sober face was taut with disappointment and accusation.

  “You went out alone today.” Daddy placed his napkin back on his lap.

  My throat locked. Stuart had delivered his own final punch. I knew he was in love with me. I figured he’d lie to save himself, so he could keep the job, not tell Daddy the truth.

  Deafening silence. My pounding heart rang through my ears. I lifted my chin. “Yes. I went for a walk.” I met Daddy’s slit-eyed gaze.

  “I needed to be alone and I didn’t feel comfortable with Stuart any longer. I told you. I… haven’t felt… safe…around him for months.”

  Daddy rose to his feet. His fist pounded into the top of the dining room table, shaking crystal and china. I jerked back in my chair.

  “And you’re just now telling me?” Red rage stained his cheeks. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a slim cigar and snapped off the tip. Then he thrust it into his lips. He dug for a lighter, his hands quaking, lit the cigar and he blew out a bank of smoke.

  My pulse raced. Across the table, Mother sat ruler-straight in her chair, composed, without an ounce of surprise visible either on her face or in her body. “Charles, settle down.”

  Daddy hissed in a breath, his mind appearing to roll like a runaway wheel down a steep mountain. I couldn’t swallow, my throat was caught in an invisible fist. Finally, he looked at me. “I fired him. Until I find a suitable replacement, you will not leave the premises without your mother or me. Understood?”

  “Daddy, I can—”

  “This topic is closed.” He smashed his barely-smoked cigar into the rim of his salad plate, and the plate wobbled.

  He sat, placed his napkin on his lap and resumed eating.

  Mother’s raised-brow expression sent a wave of anger through my blood. I stood.

  “Sit,” Daddy commanded without as much as a break in chewing.

  “I’ve lost my appetite.” I turned and headed for the door, waiting for them to call me back to the table. Sweat drenched my skin. I was sick of being controlled. Two steps from the door, and still nothing. I passed through the threshold, my breath frozen in my chest.

  “Ashlyn.” Daddy.

  I stopped.

  “You weren’t excused, young lady.”

  I turned, cocked my head. “Do I really need to be excused from the table at my age?”

  Mother’s eyes widened for a moment. “Where is this attitude coming from?”

  “I’m almost eighteen. You guys treat me like I’m twelve.”

  “Being excused from the dinner table is good manners at any age.” Mother’s brow arched.

  Daddy clasped his hands at his mouth, his lawyer-sharp blue eyes cutting open my conscience. I felt like all of my thoughts were naked.

  “Let her go,” he said.

  Mother turned to him with an indignant tsk-tsk. Though Daddy’s words should have returned some of my dignity, I didn’t buy his sudden change of nature. And I didn’t thank him. I held his gaze then went out the door.

  My skin started to cool as I climbed the stairs. From the third floor came thumps and mumbling—Stuart, no doubt packing. Once on the second floor, I went into my bedroom and shut the door.

  Nerves jumped beneath my skin. The need to
flee raced with my pulse—fierce, determined and frustrated. I crossed to the window.

  Black towncars, limos, sedans and cabs rushed by. The occasional businessman cloaked in black and plaid scarf passed. Joggers. Dog walkers. And here I stood.

  The door swung open and I turned, gasped. Stuart. His muscles bunched beneath his sweater and jeans. He stepped in and shut the door at his back, his body filling the frame.

  “You’re not allowed—”

  “I didn’t think you had the guts, Ash.”

  A tight pause sprang between us. “You still have to respect Daddy’s rules. If he found you in here he’d—”

  “I don’t have to follow the rules anymore.” His low voice crept along my shivering skin. “I don’t work here. Thanks to you.”

  He started toward me. “You had to know I wouldn’t go without screwing your little attempt at freedom. Especially when you got me fired. You’re never going to have your own life, not as long as Charles is alive.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” He snickered, coming closer. Panic raced up my throat. “Daddy’s little princess isn’t going anywhere.” He reached to touch my cheek and I slapped his hand.

  “Why did you do it?” he hissed. “I’ve given you three years of my life. I’d do anything for you. Why?” Hurt and anger crossed his face.

  “Get out.”

  Defeat filled his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Ash, I’m so—”

  “Just leave.” Angry tears filled my eyes.

  “I wanted to help you.” He shook his head, backed toward the door until his body finally bumped into the frame. His hand wrapped around the knob, his eyes latched to mine as if clinging to every second. “Come with me.”

  My expression must have shown my disbelief.

  “Now. Come with me. I can take you away from this insanity.

  Come on, Ash. It’s the only way you’ll—”

  “Get out, Stuart!” It was naive of me to think anyone living under the same roof as Daddy, Mother and I didn’t see Daddy’s deep obsession with my safety. Still, it humiliated me. I turned toward the window, forcing my body not to give into tears in his presence.

  Minutes ticked by. Finally, the door closed softly.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The strong tap on my door was Daddy’s—his signature knock—

  demanding and unyielding. In the middle of a novel I was sure he’d frown upon—a romance—I turned the book over and positioned myself across the bed so it looked like I was taking a nap.

  “Come in.”

  The door swung open. Daddy still wore his suit, though he’d loosened his necktie. The faint scent of his faded cologne tickled the air. He smiled. “Princess. Am I interrupting?”

  “No, I was just resting.”

  He shut the door quietly, then leveled me with his penetrating eyes. “Something happened today. And I’m not talking about Stuart touching you, though that was unfortunate. Did he hurt you?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “What then?”

  My throat clutched. “Wh-what to you mean?”

  “I saw it on your face.” He started in my direction and my nerves skittered. “What happened?”

  Surely my accidental run-in with Colin Brennen didn’t show in my expression. I swallowed, sat upright. Daddy’s keen gaze shifted, focusing on my now-exposed romance novel.

  My heart pounded. He reached out, picked up the book and examined it. His silver gray eyes slid to mine. “What happened on your walk today, Ashlyn?”

  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.”