Page 72 of The Stolen Dagger
The landscaping was gorgeous and must have taken hours to plan out. Sculpted bushes lined the wide driveway and guided us directly to the arched front doors that were made of carved, dark wood. The double doorway looked just wide enough to fit a bus, if that was even possible.
There were a handful of guards stationed outside the front of the house. Not to mention the two guards we passed farther up the road.
I could even see a few patrolling around the sides of the estate to the back. They all wore black suits and had a string of coiled wire in their right ears, all carrying handguns.
What have I gotten myself into?
“Don’t mind the guards,” Mack said as he parked along the circular drive in front of the house. “They’re just here for protection, and they know who you are. You won’t be harmed.”
I nodded, too overwhelmed to find my voice.
Mack exited the truck, and I followed silently. Once we were inside the house, my steps faltered. If I thought the outside was extravagant, the inside was more so.
The ceiling was higher than I would have thought from the outside. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling and sparkled from the sunlight that filtered in through the baywindows on either side of the door. The tiled floor was patterned and spread from the entryway in every direction.
I stood just inside and gawked at the beige walls decorated in paintings that could’ve belonged in a museum rather than someone’s home.
“Hurry up, little bird,” Mack said as he led me through the first floor down a wide hallway. “We don’t want to keep your father waiting.”
At the mention of my father, the awe I felt for my surroundings vanished as I remembered why I was here. I ground my jaw and tightened my hands into fists at my side. My irritation flared, ready to be unleashed on my so-called father.
I didn’t care what he had to say. He sure as hell had a lot to answer for.
We approached a large wooden door where another armed guard stood watch. He nodded and moved aside for us just before Mack knocked once, then twice. A deep voice answered from the other side, and then Mack opened the door.
The first thing I noticed when we entered wasn’t the shelves of books lined along the wall or the giant portrait of my mother hanging behind a grand mahogany desk.
No. It was the man sitting behind that desk with a look of longing on his aged face as I stopped in the middle of the room.
His skin was more tan than I remembered, and his black hair was peppered with gray. Wrinkles lined his forehead above thick brows. His wide jaw clenched and unclenched as he took me in from head to toe. His thin lips pursed in nervousness.
I could see glimpses of the man I once knew as my father, but this man before me was a stranger. He was dangerous.He possessed the kind of power others would kill for—that Adrian had killed for.
The man before me was a man of authority, to be respected, but to me? I only saw the face of a coward who abandoned his family for the grandeur around me.
And when I looked into his dark, whiskey-colored eyes, I knew then that the man I had called my dad may as well have died when my mom did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KATHERINE
“Emilia,” my father breathed out, like he was relieved. “It’s so good to see you.”
I glared at him from where I stood in the middle of his lavish office.
When I didn’t respond, he continued. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. I’m sorry we had to meet this way after all these years.”
Not wanting to look at his hopeful gaze any longer, my eyes traveled over the grand mahogany desk that separated us to the walls lined with books, then to the shiny, hardwood floor, and finally to the men dressed in black with weapons strapped to their hips.
They were giving major Doberman energy.
My eyes flickered to the portrait of my mother that hung on the wall like a shrine, and then back to my father. He stood there, unnaturally still, behind his desk.
“This is where you’ve been all this time?” I clenched myhands into fists at my side. “Hiding away in this fortress when I—when Mom—needed you?”
“Emilia,” he said, voice heavy with emotion, and adjusted the sleeve cuffs of his suit. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“But it’s not,” I argued, my voice hard as I tried not to lose it and break down in tears. “Why did you leave us?”
