Page 93 of Lovestruck at Sundown
“That’s okay.” William’s features remained impassive, but I knew this was a sensitive subject for him, and his acting skills were the only thing keeping his emotions from showing on his face. “If you’re implying that I can’t commit to your daughter because I chose not to graduate, then you are mistaken.”
“You’re the one saying it.” My dad frowned and tilted his head, feigning innocence. “But it’s clear to me that you have a case of prolonged procrastination, and I am afraid it might seep into other areas of your life. And I’d say that’s a rather unbecoming attribute to possess.”
William leaned in, pressing his index finger on the table. “You don’t know shit about me.” He inhaled slowly but loudly through his nose. His patience was growing thin, which was more than evident in his body language.
“I know enough.” My dad’s tone grew darker as he emphasized the last word. Who was this man sitting before me? I couldn’t recognize my father. How could he claim to love and care about me when he treated William like this? He failed to realize that he was not only disrespecting him but hurtingme, too. Deeply.
“AndI’vehad enough.” I drained my wineglass and pushed back my chair. “Thanks for dinner.” William and I stood. I had no texts or missed calls from Aaron, which meant the coast was clear. Good.
“Of course.” My dad signed the check and stood, offering us his rehearsed diplomatic smile. He grabbed William’s shoulder and said, “The three of us will step out of this restaurant together. You will not disrespect me by walking out on me in front of all these people.”
I looked around, and several diners were still pointing their phones our way, but William didn’t care to smile or pretend he was fine anymore. Neither did I. But my father cared too much about the optics, and even if he disapproved of William, he probably wanted this Christmas dinner to be portrayed as picture-perfect to the public when the photos inevitably filtered out onto the web.
It was too late for that now.
When my dad talked to me with that intimidating tone, the innocent, rule-abiding little girl inside me took over, and there was nothing I could do but comply. The three of us walked toward the exit and found Aaron and Big Mike idling next to the hostess podium.
“We have a situation,” Big Mike said to my father as William and I were handed back our coats. “The place is swarmed with photographers and onlookers alike. We talked to the staff about leaving through the back door, but the alley’s width won’t fit the cars. We’ll have to escort you through the front.”
So that’s why Aaron hadn’t bothered to text me.
My dad let out an exasperated sigh. The restaurant’s doors were solid wood, so we couldn’t see what awaited us outside.
“I want my daughter inside that SUV untouched and unharmed,” my dad barked at Aaron and Big Mike. “I can’t have a camera slamming into her face again.”
“We won’t allow it,” Aaron replied with confidence.
“Escort them first,” my dad ordered Aaron and Big Mike. “And once they leave, I’ll step out with Mike.”
“No need. Your daughter is safe with me,” William said to my father, reaching for my hand and grabbing it tightly enough as if afraid that I would avoid his grasp. But I didn’t. I took his hand in mine and pressed pause on my indignation. “Hawthorne.”
A tall man I’d failed to account for leaning against the wall beside us straightened up and took a step forward. He wore an all-black ensemble that consisted of tactical pants and a long wool coat over a black turtleneck. He had short dark waves combed to precision, a well-kept beard, and supple lashes that lined his striking, warm amber eyes. His chiseled features only heightened his serious and professional demeanor.
“Mr. Sjöberg.” He nodded once and rested his hands into a single fist in front of him. His gaze flicked toward my dad for a second, and I swear I could see his eyes getting darker.
“Agent Hawthorne and Aaron will escort us to the SUV,” William said.
Two people walked into the restaurant, and it allowed us to get a glimpse of the madness awaiting us outside. My dad cursed under his breath and set me aside to speak privately.
“You have two weeks to put an end to this … infatuation of yours,” my dad said through gritted teeth, pinning me with his stare. The diplomacy had left his body at this point. “I’ve given you space and allowed you to entertain this stubborn notion, but you cannot be serious about him. Being with William puts you at risk. Did you see what’s waiting for us outside? That’s going to be your life from now on. Forget about privacy. Forget about going anywhere without security for the rest of your life.”
“Or what?” I scoffed. “You’ll hire another bodyguard? At least now, there’s a real reason to have security.”
He snorted with a subtle shake of his head. “Orconsider this semester your last in Parsons since I’ve already paid for it,”he spat. “Feel free to find a way to pay for your studies or join William’s dropout club.” My dad widened his eyes for a fraction of a second as if stunned by his own remark. I saw it. Saw the regret kicking in after he said the words. But he couldn’t take it back, could he? No. His pride was deeply rooted into the very core of his being.
He’d certainly stunned me with that threat, but I didn’t have time to think about the implications of losing 100% of my father’s financial support. He’d detected my weakness and went for the blow, disregarding the text he sent me months ago about my tuition being covered regardless of my decision. So much for being “a reasonable man.”
“And here I was thinking we’d agreed not to exchange Christmas gifts this year,” I said, my tone dripping in sarcasm.
“Your coat, Ambassador,” one of the hostesses said with a cautious smile, offering it to him. He thanked her and returned the smile as if he hadn’t just threatened his daughter on Christmas, and the fake gesture grated on my last nerve. He grabbed his coat, throwing it on in a swift move.
I drew in my brows and stuck my cold hands inside my coat pockets. “I’m not doing this again.”
“Doing what? Getting another free meal from your father?” His attempt at humor fell flat.
“Playing nice for the sake of your ego and your image.”
He stared at me, indignant and confused.
