larger than hers, even though she was no longer a child. “Please,” he continued, sincerity in his warm eyes, “do this for me. It won’t be forever. If there is nothing more that happens in your life to make me worry, then we will discontinue the contract, and Mr. Andrews will disappear from your life.”
Mr. Andrews. Alex pictured a bald, threatening hulk of a man, violence in his dark eyes. For some reason her mind created this creature with a scar over the left side of his face, bulging muscles with visible vascularization. A beast for her to drag around on a chain to frighten away bad guys that might be dangerous to her. A guard dog for her daddy’s precious princess.
“All right,” she said, sighing heavily. “Fine.”
“Good,” said her father, visibly relieved that she had acquiesced to his plans. “I’ve set up this lunch meeting so that you and he can get acquainted, and we can go over the situation, so that we are all a little more comfortable. I don’t want you to think that I am sending someone to control your life, darling girl. I just want to make sure that you are safe.”
“I know, Dad,” she said, reaching across the table to place her fingers gently on the back of his hand. “I’m sorry if it seems like I am being a brat,” Alex said, pleased when her father chuckled and squeezed her fingers.
“You’ve always been a brat,” he said, reaching again for his salad fork, “but I kind of like you, so I keep you around anyways”
Alex laughed, relaxing into her chair. She loved her father; they had been close as long as she could remember. He had been the one to stand behind her when she decided that she wanted to learn to ride a horse, lifting her into the saddle, driving her to the hospital when she immediately fell off and broke her arm. When she had expressed an interest in archery, he had taken her to the store to buy a compound bow, standing out in the blazing sun, teaching her the mechanics of hitting a target from several hundred yards away. Her mother ached to put her in frilly dresses, to take her along to afternoon tea with the ladies, or for day at the spa, but Alex wasn’t having any of it. She wanted to get her hands dirty, to experience adventure and thrill, and to live life to the fullest.
Her father had held her up, putting her on his shoulders, her dirt-covered knees on either side of his head, as they climbed to the top of the waterfall on the outskirts of town. From the top of that cliff, lifted high into the sky by her father’s strong arms, she knew that she could take over the world, with his support.
Alex smiled. This was nothing, a small irritant for her to deal with for a few weeks, nothing in comparison to everything this man had done for her over the years. Her stomach growled loudly, and she reached for a roll out of the basket, slathering it with butter.
Andre, her father’s employee, who had really been in charge of the way that the house functioned as long as she can remember, stepped into the doorway to the dining room. “Pardon my intrusion. Hello, Alex,” he said, leaning over to press a small kiss to the side of her face before continuing. “But a Mr. Andrews is here to see you.”
“Yes,” said her father, “he’s expected. You can bring him in.”
As Andre turned away, headed for the foyer to collect her babysitter for the foreseeable future, Alex leaned back into her chair, popping the rest of her roll into her mouth, and promptly lost her ability to swallow.
Rick stood in the doorway, shock and dismay in his eyes, quickly followed by disgust as scenes from last night’s horrific adventures flashed in his memory.
Mr. Andrews. Alex pictured a bald, threatening hulk of a man, violence in his dark eyes. For some reason her mind created this creature with a scar over the left side of his face, bulging muscles with visible vascularization. A beast for her to drag around on a chain to frighten away bad guys that might be dangerous to her. A guard dog for her daddy’s precious princess.
“All right,” she said, sighing heavily. “Fine.”
“Good,” said her father, visibly relieved that she had acquiesced to his plans. “I’ve set up this lunch meeting so that you and he can get acquainted, and we can go over the situation, so that we are all a little more comfortable. I don’t want you to think that I am sending someone to control your life, darling girl. I just want to make sure that you are safe.”
“I know, Dad,” she said, reaching across the table to place her fingers gently on the back of his hand. “I’m sorry if it seems like I am being a brat,” Alex said, pleased when her father chuckled and squeezed her fingers.
“You’ve always been a brat,” he said, reaching again for his salad fork, “but I kind of like you, so I keep you around anyways”
Alex laughed, relaxing into her chair. She loved her father; they had been close as long as she could remember. He had been the one to stand behind her when she decided that she wanted to learn to ride a horse, lifting her into the saddle, driving her to the hospital when she immediately fell off and broke her arm. When she had expressed an interest in archery, he had taken her to the store to buy a compound bow, standing out in the blazing sun, teaching her the mechanics of hitting a target from several hundred yards away. Her mother ached to put her in frilly dresses, to take her along to afternoon tea with the ladies, or for day at the spa, but Alex wasn’t having any of it. She wanted to get her hands dirty, to experience adventure and thrill, and to live life to the fullest.
Her father had held her up, putting her on his shoulders, her dirt-covered knees on either side of his head, as they climbed to the top of the waterfall on the outskirts of town. From the top of that cliff, lifted high into the sky by her father’s strong arms, she knew that she could take over the world, with his support.
Alex smiled. This was nothing, a small irritant for her to deal with for a few weeks, nothing in comparison to everything this man had done for her over the years. Her stomach growled loudly, and she reached for a roll out of the basket, slathering it with butter.
Andre, her father’s employee, who had really been in charge of the way that the house functioned as long as she can remember, stepped into the doorway to the dining room. “Pardon my intrusion. Hello, Alex,” he said, leaning over to press a small kiss to the side of her face before continuing. “But a Mr. Andrews is here to see you.”
“Yes,” said her father, “he’s expected. You can bring him in.”
As Andre turned away, headed for the foyer to collect her babysitter for the foreseeable future, Alex leaned back into her chair, popping the rest of her roll into her mouth, and promptly lost her ability to swallow.
Rick stood in the doorway, shock and dismay in his eyes, quickly followed by disgust as scenes from last night’s horrific adventures flashed in his memory.
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