Sasha

Xander’s house is stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s the beach house to end all beach houses. I thought surgeons were wealthy, but I had no idea they could be this wealthy. This place had to easily cost a billion dollars to build, and I can’t imagine how much the upkeep costs on a home like this is. Staggering.

We have finished the upstairs part of the tour and are on our way downstairs to see the rest. “I have a cleaning lady coming in tomorrow. She needs to spend some time in Zion’s room which is right here,” he says pointing at a door as we pass.

“Sure, is there anything, in particular, I should have her do?”

“No, she knows where everything is. She’s worked for me for a long time. Her name is Lilly.”

I happen to look down at Victoria and see her roll her eyes. Hmm, maybe she’s not a fan of Lilly? I’ll have to pay attention to that tomorrow.

“This is my playroom!” Victoria yells when the hall opens up into a large open space. A row of thin windows lines the top of the room facing the ocean. They must have been carved into the rock to let in light.

“It’s great. Wow, look at all your toys.” It looks like Toys “R” Us threw up in here. She has enough toys to keep her busy until she goes to high school—karaoke machines, microphone stands, a big screen television, Barbie houses, planes, campers, educational electronic toys, game systems, and on and on.

There’s even a space along the far wall that is like a backyard with a swing set, slide, and a rock wall with artificial turf under it. I guess they don’t have much of a yard what with it being the ocean. This is as close as she gets to playing outside. It’s kind of sad.

“She goes outside, don’t worry. I don’t hold her hostage in here,” Xander says softly when he sees the concern on my face. “She wanted a swing set, and there was no place to put it with everything being sand or rock outside.”

“I get it. I mean it’s great you have enough money to do stuff for her.”

“Yeah, well, only the best for my princess,” he says, watching her pretend play with Barbie and Ken at the dollhouse. “She’s my world. Everything I do, I do for her.”

“That’s sweet, you’re a great dad.”

“It’s no secret that I spoil her, I know. I want to give her the world. I want her to have everything I never had. I want her to know she’s loved.”

“Oh, I have no doubt she knows that. She adores you. You’re her hero, her daddy, her first love. No man will ever measure up to you.”

Xander is the perfect daddy—the kind little girls with shitty daddies dream of, wish for, pray for. He’s the kind of daddy I wanted growing up but never had. God, no wonder I’ve had daddy issues all my life. I’ve been searching for Xander. And now that I’ve found him, I can’t have him because he’s too damn perfect to permanently hook up with an uneducated, unemployed, almost homeless chick like me.

“You’re sweet. That was nice to say, but I know these years will go fast, and I’m doing everything within my power to savor them and make them count. When she’s a teenager, she won’t worship the ground I walk on anymore. She will find some hot football player to give her all the things I give her. She won’t need me.”

“She will always need you, and no stupid, adolescent football player could make her feel as special as you do. I guarantee it. You’re the shit to her, and you always will be.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, honey.”

“I’m tired.”

“Are you ready for bed?” he asks with concern in his tone.

“Uh-huh.” She stands and weaves her way through the toys back to us.

“The theatre room and the gym are right through there,” he says pointing to a hall on the opposite end of the room. “That’s it for this level.”

“Great, thank you both for showing me around.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, bug, let’s get you to bed.” We spend the next half hour bathing Victoria and hunting down a clean pair of jammies. I notice her hamper is overflowing—it doesn’t look like Xander has been doing laundry. I make a mental note to work on that in the morning.

When she’s in a pink unicorn nighty and a thick pair of black wool socks… yes, wool in California—itchy, scratchy, wool—I read her a story, and she’s asleep before it’s over. I don’t know if she’s afraid of the dark, so I leave her bathroom light on as well as a small lamp next to the bed. It has an unusually dim light bulb in it that leads me to believe she uses it for a nightlight.

Xander excused himself when we began reading, but when I step into the hall, he is standing right there. “Shit, you scared me,” I say with a jump.

“I forgot to tell you to leave her light on, but I see you figured it out on your own.”

“That I did. I don’t like the dark myself.”

“She likes the door open.” He leans in close so he can reach around me and push it open wide. “Nightmares,” he says by way of explanation.

“Of course.” He’s close, so close I can feel his warm breath on my neck, and it’s affecting me, a lot. I begin to step away, but he follows me in what I am learning is his trademark you’re not going anywhere move.

“What are her nightmares about?” My voice trembles, I can hardly get the words out. I don’t want to talk about the dark or nightmares. I want to turn my face a fraction of an inch and let him kiss me as he did earlier. But I can’t, I won’t. The only thing a fling with Xander will bring is heartache for me and confusion for Victoria.

“Her mother and the men who helped kidnap her. Why are you afraid of the dark?” His voice is husky and suggestive—it’s unsettling and doesn’t match his words. This is a conversation that should be happening across a desk in an office, not cheek to cheek breathing heavy in the dim hallway outside his daughter’s bedroom.

“I, uh, I had some bad experiences, I guess you could say.” I try again to move away, and again he moves with me. He places his hands gently on my hips, and I make it a point not to look at him.

“Did someone hurt you, Sasha?” Now his voice is clear with a layer of anger that is a little frightening.

“No, it’s nothing, just kid stuff, you know,” I lie. His warm, strong hands slide up my hips to my waist.

“You’re lying,” he whispers in my ear, and I frown.

“I am not. Who do you think you are calling me a liar?” I say pushing him away and storming toward the door of the room he assigned to me.

He’s right behind me, though, and grabs my upper arm to turn me around. “Sasha, don’t walk away from me.” His words are harsh, and the anger he expressed a moment ago is amplified.

I look at his hand holding my arm and then at him. “Take your hand off of me.”

He releases me right away, and his face softens. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I apologize, but you were trembling, and I hoped you would be honest about what happened to you.”

“Nothing happened to me.”

He presses his lips together in a straight line and tilts his head to the side in a come on now, Sasha look.

“Okay, so something happened, but I don’t want to talk about it. I hardly know you.” A muscle in his jaw twitches, but his eyes are filled with concern.

“I can respect that. When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

“You will be, someday. Everybody needs to talk about what scares them. It’s the only way to get over it.” I happen to disagree with him one hundred percent on this, but I don’t say anything because we will never be anything more than employer and employee, and he doesn’t need to know about my past.

“Sure.” I semi-agree with him so that he will let me go to bed. Please, God, let this door have a lock on it. “I’m really tired, and I want to go to sleep.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and drags his finger along my jaw to my lips where he caresses my bottom lip. Then he suddenly leans forward and presses a quick kiss to my mouth and backs away. “I’ll see you bright and early in the morning. I run at 4:30 a.m., and I like a cup of coffee when I get back. Tori is awake by 6:00 a.m., and she likes to eat right away. She also has meds she takes every morning, but I’ll show those to you tomorrow.”

“Do you get up that early on the weekends, too?”

“Yes.”

My eyebrows pop up. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, that just seems pretty ridged and… and early as hell.” He laughs, but I’m serious. I like sleeping in on the weekends, but I suppose I can give it up for two weeks.

“Rigidity is a good thing, Sasha. Discipline and routine breed success.” Again the words and his sexy tone do not match.

“Maybe so, but there’s a lot to be said for flexibility and spontaneity, too,” I say batting my eyelashes. I turn around quickly and slip into my bedroom closing and locking the door in one motion. Two can play that game.

Sometimes life is hard, and sometimes it’s soft.