I can’t take the look of pity in Abe’s eyes. I shove at his chest until his hands release my shoulders, and step away from him with a glare. Everything he just said is exactly what I have said to myself a thousand times. But it all comes down to one simple little issue.
My father owns me.
I have literally nothing without him. And it makes me sick to the pit of my stomach.
Abe is watching me cautiously, as he should be. I haven’t decided how to react to all this. Nobody has ever dared speak my truths out loud. Especially not to me.
I close my eyes and begin counting silently inside my head, trying to calm myself before I really overreact and do something I’ll regret.
Forty-three is as far as I get when I feel Abe’s calloused hand wrap gently around my wrist. He slides up my forearm ever so slowly. My skin prickles under his tender touch but I don’t open my eyes or acknowledge that I like the feel it. The feel of him.
His hand continues to travel all the way up to my shoulder, then across until it’s cupping my jaw. Using his thumb and forefinger he tilts my head back, I assume he’s waiting for me to open my eyes.
I’m still not sure if I want to throat-punch him for just how accurately he called my life or if I want to kiss his face off for not judging me for living this way.
I can tell Abe’s growing impatient with me. He never fidgets, and that’s exactly what he’s doing while I debating which reaction I’d feel better about, and snaps, “Lissa, open your bloody eyes. If I can’t see your eyes I don’t know what I should be preparing myself for.
My eyes snap open on his command. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His dark irises flick back and forth between mine, searching for something. “It’s your eyes that tell me what I’m in for before your mouth articulates your thoughts. A few minutes ago, I was surveying the room for something to protect my balls with. You were ready to rip them from my body with your bare hands,” he explains.
Huh, he really can read me. That’s slightly terrifying. I’ll never get the jump on him now. But on the other hand, it could come in handy in the bedroom…when we finally get there again.
He ducks down, just a fraction, gaining my attention. “Are you, okay?” he asks tentatively, still lightly holding onto my jaw.
Swallowing down my shame, I give him a tiny semblance of a nod. Then, wrapping my own fingers around his wrist at my jaw, I press his palm to my lips, kissing it. I hope my gesture tells him what I can’t say aloud.
Searching my eyes once more, he finally returns the nod then drops his hand away from me. His gaze flicks down to the Mexican food, probably cold now, and asks, “You hungry?”
This time, there is no innuendo attached to the question.
“Yeah, yeah, I am. Thank you,” I tell him when he passes me a takeout tray with my enchiladas and some plastic cutlery.
I surprise us both by taking the seat beside him on the oversized double-seater couch he asked me to share with him earlier and dig into my food.
Standing in front of my mirror, I attach the diamond stud to my earlobe then move to the other side and repeat the action. I lift the delicate white-gold chain with a matching pendant to my throat but grow frustrated with the difficult clasp when I catch Abe’s reflection coming towards me in the mirror.
He lifts his hands and easily fastens the clasp, then shifts his hands to my shoulders as his eyes fix on mine in the reflection. “You look stunning.” He presses a kiss to the side of my throat and asks, “You ready to go?”
Turning to face him, I rest my hands against his tuxedo-covered chest. “You look pretty good yourself.” I wink, then sidestep to get my shoes from my closet. I already chose the ones I’m going to wear tonight, and they’re waiting for me by the armchair I keep in my closet just for putting my shoes on.
Sitting down, I slide my feet into the white four-inch pointed-toe heels. Abe leans against the entryway, watching me with a curious expression. “What’s up?” I ask.
“Why don’t you wear dresses?” he asks, then rethinks his question. “Not that you don’t look gorgeous. I’ve just never seen you wear a dress, that’s all.”
I shrug. “Just not my style. I prefer pants. And as long as I can get outfits as fantastic as this one…” I gesture to the high waist, white wide-legged pants I’m wearing with a white fitted top that wraps around my torso like a glove and ties at the side of my waist in a big bow.
He gives me an appreciative onceover. “Fair enough. Ready now?”
Getting to my feet, I slide a small clutch over my wrist on my way out of the closet. “As I’ll ever be.”
Thirty minutes later, Abe is sliding my car into a line of other vehicles waiting for the valet. He whistles below his breath. “This place is fancy. How much are you paying to eat here tonight?”
This is one of the few events that I chose to attend, and that I make regular generous donations to, on my father’s behalf, of course. He chastised me when he saw just how much I so kindly give to these sorts of charities until I pointed out that it looks good for him as his name is on the cheque and it’s a tax cut. He hasn’t said a word about it since.
Smiling to myself, I tell Abe, “Actually, I called in a favour. You’ll be dining with us this evening, not lurking in the corners like you’ve been doing the last couple of weeks. People are starting to talk.”
He shoots me a look. “I can pay my own way, Kalista. How much is my meal tonight going to cost me?”
Stubborn idiot. “Ten thousand dollars,” I huff. “And I’m not taking your money. If you want to pay, then you can donate the money to the Click Foundation. I won’t take it.”
His shoulders stiffen. “You are paying twenty K for two meals? Why not just give them twenty K?”
I lick my lips and shuffle in my seat until I’m facing him. “The Click Foundation needs more than money. They need supporters who will in turn draw in other wealthy supporters. And in this city, I hold a bit of pull in some of the wealthiest social circles. My attendance at these events brings others. Do you understand?”
Abe nods. “Yeah, I get it. You have to show so the stuck-up bitches you roll with will show too.”
Coming from anybody else, those words would offend me. But it’s Abe. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it—not to me, anyway. “Exactly. I actually enjoy getting dressed up to attend something I’m passionate about.”
A valet opens my door for me and I slide out, then he rounds the hood and Abe drops the keys into his hand as he passes him.
When Abe reaches my side, he slides his arm beneath mine and we enter together. “So, what exactly does this Click Foundation raise money for?”
I nod at a passing acquaintance who is currently running her eyes appreciatively over Abe. I can’t help the smug grin that lifts my lips, then return my focus to Abe. “They support children and young adults with epilepsy.”
A server approaches us with a tray of champagne. I take one and wait for Abe to do so as well, but he tilts his chin. “No thank you,” he tells the server, then whispers to me, “Not when I’m on the job sweetness.”
Of course, how could I have forgotten? Abe is here for a very different reason than the other patrons tonight. He’s not even really my date. He’s…he’s my bodyguard. He has to be here.
The reality of this seemed to have escaped me earlier when I was getting ready for our evening. I was so excited to be going out with him tonight, to show him that my life isn’t completely superficial. That I’m not superficial. Yet the very reason he is here with me just reiterates who and what I am. My father’s daughter.
I try to pretend like a tsunami of sadness hasn’t just about swept my feet from under me, but Abe notices. He notices everything. I guess that’s why he’s so good at his job; he’s the most perceptive man I’ve ever met. Which, I suppose, is also why he’s so good in bed.
His sculpted naked body, hovering above mine. I shiver and blink away the memory. This isn’t the time, and certainly not the place for such thoughts.
He leads me to a quiet spot in the corner. “What’s up, sweetness?”
Steeling my shoulders, I try to play it off. “It’s not a big deal. Just saw an old acquaintance I’m no longer on good terms with,” I say, then sip my champagne. Of course, he knows I’m lying. The look on his face says it all. “What?” I ask, way too defensively.
“Bullshit,” he says without preamble.
Placing a hand against my chest, I huff, “I beg your pardon?”
Abe just grins. “You’re so full of bullshit I’m surprised I can’t smell it. But I’ll let it go. You obviously don’t want to tell me and I can accept that.” He pauses, and ends with, “For now.”
I’m both annoyed at his persistence and relieved we don’t have to do this right here. “Thank you,” I murmur as he takes my hand and leads me back to the growing crowd of people all dressed impeccably, with their noses in the air, as if they’re so wonderful. But not one of them has half of what the man beside me does.
Twenty minutes later when we’re asked to take our seats, Abe and I are led to one of the round tables near the front of the room, and he steps in front of the young man assigned to show us our seats so that he can pull out my chair for me. Then he gently lays my napkin over my lap and takes the seat to my right.
When he acts like this, it’s easy to forget he’s not here as my date but as my bodyguard. I don’t have long to dwell on this as the chair on my left is dragged out and then Tad Maplewood is sitting beside me. My eyes widen, and I blink at him as though it’s not really Tad. I mean, why would he even be here? I’ve never seen him at one of these events before.
Tad’s light brown hair is slicked back, each strand perfectly placed. His green eyes sparkle at me, and I’m forced to be polite and acknowledge him. “Good evening, Tad. I didn’t expect we would be seeing you tonight.”
I feel Abe stiffen on my right, and I know without having to look at him that his muscles are straining against the confines of his fitted tux. Tad opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Tad, I’d like you to meet someone very special to me.” I sit back in my chair, gesturing to Abe. “This is Abe Jamieson. I don’t believe the two of you have met.”
Abe relaxes a little, then outstretches his hand towards Tad. With a nod, he says, “Tad,” then releases his hand before Tad says a thing, and goes back to staring blankly into the distance.
Tad’s frown is almost comical. It takes him almost a minute reply. “Yes, well your father told me you would be here this evening and that you would be expecting me. I see that may not be the case.”
I glare at him, unleashing the full force of the icy death stare I’ve perfected over the years. “He did what?” I seethe. Anger pulses through my veins, its directed at my father, but I’m taking it out on his messenger. But I can’t help it.
Poor Tad fumbles with his napkin. “I can see he was most definitely mistaken.” He looks down to his hands, then returns his focus to me. “Look, there’s no reason we can’t still have a lovely evening as friends. You have a date. I’m gay. It would never have worked between us anyway.”
My bottom jaw drops. Did he just …? Then Abe bursts out laughing, so loudly that he draws the attention of the occupants of half the room. I shush him and he eventually quiets down.
“Seriously?” he asks Tad, leaning forward with his elbow propped on the table in front of him.
Tad blushes, actually blushes. “Yeah, shocking I know.”
Abe doesn’t stop there. “So why’d you show if you’re into dudes?” he asks, his brows furrowing, curiosity in his eyes.
I shuffle my seat back, seeing as it looks like these two are about to hit it off, and I want that. Tad isn’t a bad guy. He’s quite lovely actually. He dresses impeccably, is polite and gentlemanly whenever we interact. In fact, he’s one of the few I would have considered dating if my father hadn’t pushed him onto me. And if Abe hadn’t ruined me for every other man the night we met. There, I admitted it. I’ve thought about him every single damn day that we were apart.
Looking him up did cross my mind once or twice. Ellie threw a bitchfit after I shared my incredible one night stand with her then refused to look him up for a repeat. When we met, he represented everything I couldn’t have in this life. He was, and still is, rough, gritty, and so masculine it makes my lady parts tingle with happiness. The men in my circle are, for lack of a better word, pretty.
Sighing, Tad explains, “I’m the only male. I have three sisters, and they can’t very well carry on the family name. My father knows I’m gay, but insists I produce at least one male heir to fulfil my obligation to the family. Then I may marry and live as I please, but until then …” He shrugs. “Here I am.”
That is incredibly sad. And even more infuriating! “Are you fucking kidding me?” I burst, unable to rein in my temper at the position his father has placed on him. At least mine hasn’t tried to demand I give him a child.
Tad smiles and shrugs, but pain shines through his beautiful green eyes. I can’t stop myself. I pull him into my arms and hug him with everything I have. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. If only we could escape our fathers. I’d run away with you in a heartbeat.”
His arms wrap around my back, holding me tightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs before pulling away and sitting back upright in his seat. “You are not the bitch everyone thinks you are, Miss Astor,” he says with a smile.
It’s my turn to smile and shrug. “I know, but don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
Abe has been silent for too long, so I glance at him over my shoulder to find him clenching his fists in his lap. I touch his bicep, “What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned he’s pissed with me for hugging Tad like that. But come on, he just came out to us and told us his shitty life story.
Breathing through his nose, his furious gaze lifts to mine and flicks between Tad’s greens and my blues. “How do you live like this? I don’t fucking get it. Is the money worth handing over your life for? Seriously, I’m fucking pissed for both of you,” he whispers harshly. “But part of me thinks that it’s partially your own fault for allowing your parents to treat you like this.”
Tad and I don’t say anything in response. What could we possibly say to explain ourselves? People who aren’t us don’t understand what it’s like to grow up with such heavy expectations after being trained from infancy that this is just how it is.
Abe’s eyes are still full of both confusion and rage.
Eventually, Tad is the one to speak. “Who are we to complain about the benefits our lives have given us? How dare we be bitter when there are people in this world with nothing? We can either suck it up and make the best of it, or be miserable and ungrateful. I chose the first option. This is all we have ever known. The idea of going out a getting a job has occurred to me, but what could I do? My Ivy league education gave me a Bachelor in arts and a Major in ancient history, not exactly useful in today’s job market.”
The rest of the evening flows without any more emotional outbursts or heavy topics. Tad and I drink enough champagne for the entire table, and Abe joins in on our conversations whenever he has something to contribute. We people-watch, laugh at people’s horrible sense of style, and enjoy each other’s company.
When it’s time to leave, Tad hugs us both and makes sure we all exchange numbers. I giggle and lean into Abe’s side as we wait for my car to be brought up, and for once, I’m glad he’s the one driving. Giggling again as he reaches across my body to fasten my seat belt.
I can’t keep my eyes open on the drive home. I drift in and out of consciousness the entire way back to my apartment, not even stirring when we arrive. Abe’s warm arms curl beneath me, I snuggle into his neck, his scent comforts me. I drift into a deep sleep, but not before I feel his lips press to my temple as he murmurs, “God your beautiful.”