CHAPTER SEVEN
Daisy
The meeting couldn’t have gone worse. I’d counted on Mr. Ranger to be prepared, to be smooth, dominant, alpha and instead he’d melted into a bumbling fool in front of Tristan like a grade-school boy.
I’d cringed almost from the very beginning.
“Oh I used to be in the military,” Mr. Ranger growled, “you know, Army and all.”
“And what did you do?” asked my guardian, eyebrow cocked.
“Paratrooper,” Mr. Ranger bragged smarmily. “You know, dropping out of planes at five hundred miles an hour with just a parachute on your back.”
My guardian nodded in acknowledgement.
“I assume you’ve seen combat,” he said, “since we’ve been at war almost continuously for the last twenty years.”
But here, Mr. Ranger bumbled.
“Well, sort of, kind of, not really,” he admitted, biting his lip. What the hell? I swiveled in my seat to look at my teacher. He was always talking about how he’d been in the trenches during his service, exchanging fire with this and that bad guy, sneaking behind enemy lines, all sorts of things. Where had it all come from?
And the big man turned to look at me, coloring slightly before protesting.
“I didn’t get a deployment after graduation,” he protested. “The guys in charge said there was no suitable position so I was released into the civilian world immediately. I did do some time with the FBI before entering Teacher’s College,” he added helpfully.
And I could only stare, my cheeks coloring. No deployment? That meant that the Army thought you sucked, they’d rather not have you despite funding a four-year West Point education. My mouth gaped before I remembered where I was and snapped it shut, gulping loudly.
Tristan was amused, I could tell. I’d envisioned two alpha males at war, a clash of the minds, but instead Mr. Ranger was turning out to be a beta, no, a zeta male. He’d been passed over as a soldier, taking a desk job at the FBI, and was now here to feel-up my guardian, see if he could shake some dollars loose from the money tree.
And his tactics were embarrassing to say the least, openly stating that Tristan was a “high-value target,” that the billionaire had been the subject of several school board meetings, that there was even a bounty on his head for whoever brought him in the door. The worst part of the meeting was when Mr. Ranger pulled out that sad piece of paper he called a brochure. Because I knew the district had something better prepared, but he’d forgotten it at home like a kid who hadn’t done his homework and was blaming the dog.
“It’s perfect, your name on the museum, doesn’t that sound great?” Mr. Ranger snickered. And I just couldn’t take it anymore. We were here to discuss a library, not a museum, and it was time for the crossed-wires, the dumb innuendos, to be over.
“Come on, Mr. Ranger, I need some help with my homework,” I said meaningfully, gesturing for him to stand up. “Maybe we could head back and talk about Jane Austen’s character development techniques, I know Mr. Marks is really busy.”
Tristan smiled wryly at me, amused. I swear, my teacher was a clown to entertain him, provide a couple chuckles for the day.
“Sure but Mr. Marks, did you want to make a donation today?” the dude wheezed hopefully. “Maybe something small to begin with, to be followed up later by something bigger?”
And to my surprise, my guardian got his checkbook out.
“Take this as a deposit,” the big man said, scrawling out something with a flourish. “I’ll make up the balance later.”
John gasped as he took the paper. Because Mr. Marks had made out a check to cash for five thousand dollars.
“Tristan, you didn’t have to,” I gasped. “I mean, thank you, but you didn’t have to, not today.”
“No worries little girl,” he said smoothly before escorting us to the door. “Glad I could help,” he said meaningfully before opening the big wooden door and tipping his head.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” the big man rumbled, and I smiled gratefully once more before stepping out.
“Thank you Tristan,” called Mr. Ranger from the elevator, his voice raucous across the foyer. “We’ll be back for the difference!”
And I stiffened again at the ballsiness, the sheer tenacity of my English teacher. WTF had happened? I’d thought Mr. Ranger was so amazing, so knowledgeable about classics and literature, and yet he’d turned into a bumbling fool in front of my guardian. I blamed myself, there was no one else, I should never have been so intimidated by the girls at school.
And the drive home was just as cringe-worthy. I’d immediately ignored Mr. Ranger once we got into the car, barely even able to look him in the eye.
“No I don’t need help with studying, thanks so much,” I mumbled, furtively looking out the window. “Just drop me off, please.” I was so embarrassed at his performance that it was hard for me to acknowledge his presence now.
But Mr. Ranger wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Sure you do,” he murmured lasciviously, his face close to mine in the little Jetta, his big hand on my knee. “Sure you do.”
And sighing, I gave up.
“Fine, you can come over for a half hour, tops,” I said shortly, before we pulled into the driveway. True to my word, I let him into the drawing room to read for a bit, answering his questions with sound bytes, barely looking up as he prattled away. And after a trying twenty minutes, I asked him to leave, nicely of course.
“Mr. Ranger, I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” I promised, holding the big door open. “Thanks for coming by, it was great that you met Tristan.”
“Sure thing,” he growled, shooting me a smile, swinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I bet I’ll get more from Tristan Marks,” he boasted as he bounded down the front steps, “Just you wait!”
And the shitshow didn’t stop because Tristan’s car had pulled up to the house just then, and there was my guardian unfolding himself from the backseat. Had he overheard? I flushed again in embarrassment for this mess of a guy, what had I been thinking introducing them? Cursing Trina and her crew, I swore never to be influenced by peer pressure again, not if it meant exposing my guardian to people who had no boundaries, much less common courtesy and manners.
But Tristan gave no indication that he’d heard anything.
“Mr. Ranger, we meet again,” the big man said courteously.
“We do,” chirped my teacher. “We do, and I’ll call you about the rest of the money,” he reminded, his hand to his ear in the time-honored gesture of telephone. I sighed again, shoulders slumped. God, this had completely gone off the rails, it was an open-handed money grab, blatant and embarrassing. So as soon as the front door shut, I turned to face my guardian apologetically.
“Tristan, I’m so sorry,” I murmured, shame-faced. “I thought Mr. Ranger would be better prepared, that he’d have a speech or some talking points but …”
“But he was different from what you thought?” asked Tristan amused, an eyebrow arched. “So good in the classroom, but not so good in the boardroom?”
“That’s it exactly,” I said gratefully. I looked at the big man hesitantly. “You’re not mad are you? I didn’t know Mr. Ranger was going to be like that, I thought he’d be a little better prepared, a little more smooth. Turns out,” I said slowly, “he was a total lunkhead.”
And here the billionaire looked at me for a moment, taking everything in. I was still dressed in the office attire, the pencil skirt and blouse, a few wisps of hair escaping the updo. I must have looked so out of my element, like a kid pretending to be an adult, flushing again under his gaze. Why did I always feel so off balance in front of my guardian? How did he do this to me? I took a deep breath, dizzy suddenly, wavering a little on my feet.
But Mr. Marks said nothing, instead leaning forward slowly. And just when I thought he was going to brush my lips with his, give me a slow kiss, run his lips over mine, he pulled back at the last minute.
“No worries Daisy,” he said, his eyes giving nothing away, face shuttered. “Good night.”
And just like that the big man was gone, disappeared somewhere in the mansion. Stunned at the quick dismissal, I went upstairs to get changed into something a little more casual. Why had Mr. Marks left in a flash? Was he ignoring me? Or would we have dinner together? He was home after all, and might as well enjoy cook’s food.
But I sat at the big table alone that night, chewing on a meal that had no taste, listening to the grandfather clock tick in the massive dining room. Where was Tristan? My mind reeled. Had I pissed him off somehow? Had the events of the day turned him off from me forever? It seemed unlikely, Mr. Ranger was nothing but a gnat to Tristan. So maybe it was me. Maybe he was just sick of my face and didn’t want to bother with a teen girl anymore.
I bit down on my bread again, tasting nothing but cardboard, eyes filling with tears. It wasn’t the food. As usual, Chef had outdone herself again. I just hadn’t realized how much I’d looked forward to seeing my guardian again, re-hashing the events of the day, sharing some light conversation and jokes. But maybe Tristan was done with me for whatever reasons unknown, and my special time with the big man was over. Everything that had happened, it’d just been my imagination, a magical interlude never to be repeated.
So I finished my food, swallowing heavily, trudging back to my room, shoulders sagging. I was a no one, a teen girl, and Tristan Marks was a man of the world, an alpha billionaire. Your guardian’s out of your league, Daisy, I scolded myself. What are you thinking? He always was.