Page 19 of The Bodyguard's Innocent Obsession
The gravel crunches beneath the tires as I pull up outside the building.
My father’s car rumbles to a stop beneath the wide stone awning of a manor house. It’s elegant, imposing. The kind of place you have to be invited to enter.
Tall marble columns frame the dark wooden doors, and not a single window reveals what lies inside. No staff. No valet. No lights. Just a heavy, eerie quiet that settles on my shoulders like a warning.
I kill the engine, but don’t move right away. My hands stay wrapped around the steering wheel as if letting go might cause everything to fall apart. My heart pounds so hard I swear the sound echoes in the confined space of the car.
I’m scared. But I’m here for my dad. And if this is the only way to keep him safe, then I’ll do whatever it takes.
I open the door and step out. The air is cool and my sneakers are far too loud against the gravel as I cross to the entrance. I glance behind me, but there’s nothing but trees and a windingroad that goes on for miles. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and I suddenly feel very alone. Lachlan will never be able to find me here if I need him.
When I reach the double doors, I hesitate, my fingers resting against the bronze handles. They’re unlocked.
Swallowing hard, I push one open and slip inside.
The air hits me first, cool and stale, laced with the scent of old cigars and expensive cologne. Velvet curtains hang heavy along one wall, filtering the sunlight into weak, dusty shafts. Mahogany paneling gleams faintly, polished to a shine that seems unnatural.
The place is completely deserted.
I take a few cautious steps forward, the sound of my own footsteps deafening in the silence. Leather chairs line the lounge area, perfectly arranged like a stage waiting for actors to return. A low bar gleams with untouched bottles and crystal decanters.
“Hello?” I call, barely above a whisper. My voice bounces off the high ceilings and dies in the emptiness.
Then I hear a sound in one dark corner, followed by a voice.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d actually come.”
The voice slips from the shadows like smoke; smooth, calm, unsettlingly polite. It comes from somewhere just beyond the bar. I freeze, spine straightening.
A man steps into view, and everything in me tenses.
He’s tall. Immaculately dressed in a navy suit that looks like it costs more than my entire wardrobe. Silver cufflinks glint at his wrists. His dark blond hair is swept neatly back, and his smile... it’s the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes.
I stiffen. “Where’s my father?”
His smile doesn’t waver. “Still in D.C., last I heard. Perfectly safe… for now.”
My stomach drops.
“What?” I breathe, already knowing the answer. “You said... You told me...”
“I told you what I had to,” he says smoothly, stepping forward into the soft light filtering through the velvet curtains. “And you came. That’s all that matters.”
It takes a moment to sink in, but when it does, it hits me like ice water down my spine.
There was never any hostage. This was never a rescue mission.
It was a trap.
I grit my teeth. “Why?”
His expression shifts to something not quite amused, not quite angry. Something colder. Like I’m a piece of business paperwork that annoyed him by needing attention.
“Because your father doesn’t understand how the world works.” He begins pacing slowly, like we’re discussing politics over scotch instead of my kidnapping. “He thinks he’s some kind of hero. That this housing bill will fix the world. Level the playing field. Make homes affordable.” He spits the word like it’s vulgar. “Do you know what that does to people like me?”
“No,” I snap. “And I don’t care.”
That earns me a chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart. You should care. Because people like me are the ones who built all of this.” He gestures vaguely to the luxury around us; to the velvet curtains, the gleaming floors, the hush of old money soaked into every polished surface. “I earned my fortune, but your daddy wants to gut the market. Limit ownership. Cap profits. He calls it justice. I call it theft.”
