Page 15 of Reckless Love

Chapter 6

“Don’t go,” Leo whispered against my ear. He held me close; his muscles coiled tight and ready to spring into action.

He didn’t want me leaving with my father.Ididn’t want to leave with my father. On my top ten list of things I never wanted to do ever again was“Spend time alone with Edmund.” It filled all ten slots.

“It’s fine. I’ll send up a flair if I need help.”

“You better not need help,” he growled. “Or else I’ll have to murder him and then the cops will be involved and we really don’t want that.”

Is it bad that Leo’s threat of murder made me so happy? I hope not because just the words alone made me feel warm and safe and loved.Three things I was quickly becoming terribly addicted to. “There will be no murdering. He’s awful but harmless. I’ll be back soon.”

It was impressive how cool and collected I sounded when we both knew full well I was the exact opposite. I knew what would happen at the end of this conversation. I’d leave feeling drained, upset, and, most likely, so very angry.

Leo kissed me again,holding me just a little bit tighter. “Hurry back.”

I followed Edmund down the darkened hallway that led to his home office. Just like my childhood home, as well as our LA mansion, the London house, the ranch in Montana, the island in the Bahamas, and the Sydney house, this one was equipped with the highest security.

I noted the visible cameras in the hallway (the ones pointed athis office door) and knew there were just as many that were invisible to the eye. Probably hidden inside a light bulb or behind one of the ugly paintings that hung from the walls. Entering the office required a keycard and his handprint.

No retinal scan though, so not nearly as secure as some of his offices. That meant there weren’t as many sensitive documents here.

It also meantI could get back inside easy peasy, should I decide I needed to.

But then again, Edmund knew me well. Perhaps there was more here and he intentionally wanted me to believe his security was lower.

Or maybe I was seriously overthinking things.

It was a hazard I’d run into ever since he purchased the Renegades. There were villains everywhere, crosses and double crosses, agendas,and secret agents. Or not-so-secret agents. Capp and Dixon were killing me. I’d be more upset about their constant presence in my life if I thought they had a clue what was really going on. No, it was the private investigators who were the true pain in my ass.

I took a quick inventory of the office as Edmund closed the door. Six television screens on the left wall. Three were off, threewere on, displaying data on his different businesses. I was willing to bet the other three were connected to the security feed for the party. On his desk there was a large computer screen, a laptop, and a briefcase. Closed.

“Have a seat.” He walked around me and behind his desk.

“I’ll stand.” When I was a kid I imagined the chairs in my father’s office were outfitted with ejectionseats. If you said the wrong thing or didn’t do your job, he shot you out of his office like a missile.

Okay, I still imagined it. And yes, it was one of the reasons I didn’t want to sit. The other being I didn’t like the power dynamic, nor did I want to be comfortable. Comfort led to acceptance. I needed to be observant. Aware.

“Fine, Rosalind.Standlike a Neanderthal.”

I bit back a response that would go over my father’s head. “What do you want?”

I scanned the bookshelves. Mostly empty. One shelf was lined with files, another held photographs of Edmund with famous actors and political dignitaries—because we wouldn’t want anyone to miss how important my father was—while another held Renegades memorabilia. Stuff he’d had as long as I could remember.

I stared at it as my father spoke. “How serious are you and Leo Hancock?”

“Pretty serious.” Dear old Dad didn’t need any more detail than that, nor was he owed an explanation.

“And who else is he dating? Or is it you? How many are in this relationship?”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask your private investigators. They should know everything.” Beside theRenegades jersey and photograph was a football signed by every member of the Nashville team. Beside that was a photograph signed by the New York quarterback my father loved.

There wasn’t a single picture of me or my brother. Not even pictures of William with the Renegades.

“I’m askingyou.” He began tapping the desk with a pen—a noise designed to draw my attention back to him.

Well fuck him.

“I don’t see why I should answer your question.”

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