Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Parker
I folded a shirt and placed it into my suitcase, feeling the weight of Bowen’s watchful gaze from the corner of my bedroom. He stood there, arms crossed, a silent sentinel.
“I still don’t see why I have to move in with you,” I grumbled, my frustration clear. My independence was something I had fought for every step of the way, and now it felt like it was slipping through my fingers. But then, Harrison had seen to that with his revelation of my father’s identity.
Bowen’s expression softened, the tension in his stance easing as he took a step closer to me. “You know you’ll be safer at my apartment with me,” he explained. His eyes, usually so guarded, were open and earnest, revealing the depth of his concern. “I—I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.”
Bowen’s concern, his need to protect me, was so raw, so genuine. It made the decision to move in with him seem less like a loss of freedom and more like an act of…care. “But what about when you’re on the road? I don’t want to be stuck in your apartment while you’re gone,” I griped, trying to cling to the remnants of my independence.
“We’ll hire a bodyguard ASAP,” Bowen said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
My shoulders slumped, the weight of his words settling over me. Another bodyguard, another reminder of the life I’d fought so hard to escape. Memories of college came rushing back—of always being watched, never truly being alone, and of the constant reminder that I was different. The thought of reliving that suffocating existence made my chest tighten. I’d lost my independence, and this time, permanently. Running wasn’t an option anymore, not when Bowen had become the best part of my new life.
Yet the fear lingered. I’d insist that my father call off his dogs. But would my return to a life of my own bodyguards and surveillance destroy what Bowen and I had? The guilt was a sharp stab in my gut, a reminder that I was dragging him into my chaotic world. The uncertainty of it all was overwhelming, making it hard to breathe.
My phone rang where I’d tossed it onto the bed. I glanced at the screen and my stomach sank, filled with trepidation. I picked up the phone, answering with a resigned, “Hi, Mom. You’re on speakerphone, and Bowen is here.”
“Hello, Bowen. I’m Constance Brevos,” came my mother’s polished New England accent.
Bowen’s grunt of acknowledgment of my mother was terse. “Hi.”
“Parker, take us off speakerphone. I…I need to speak with you privately.” Her uncharacteristic hesitance rang alarm bells. Now that my secret was public, had my father convinced her to take his side? To force me to revisit the marriage with Harrison? He’d find a way to manipulate me. He always had.
“Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Bowen. I’m packing and pressed for time.”
“Are you packing to come home?” Her tone brightened with a hope that made my stomach twist. I hated to abandon my mother, but she had chosen her lot in life.
“No, I’m moving into Bowen’s apartment.” The words were firmer than I expected, and despite my misgivings, a sense of rightness settled over me. I’d be safer with Bowen.
And I wanted to be with him.
“Parker, now that Harrison revealed your identity, it’s time to come home to your real life. You can thank him for making you come to your senses.”
Yes, my father had instructed her to call and convince me to come home.
My teeth clenched at her words. “I’m not thanking Harrison for anything.” I paused, suspicion creeping in. “Wait—how did you find out so quickly?”
She sighed. “Did you really think Eric was just a bartender?”
The world tilted as her words sank in. “What do you mean?” I asked, shivers running down my spine.
“I think you’ll find he’s already gone from that bar of yours. He’s a bodyguard on your father’s surveillance team.”
“But I never saw anyone following me,” I said with disbelief. I felt like an idiot.
“They’re the best. They’re very discreet.”
“Then why were they so open when they were protecting me in college? They wore suits, for goodness’ sake!”
Mother chuckled. “They discouraged frat parties, didn’t they?”
“Mom!” I scowled. They’d been the fun police.
“But that was then. This is now. Now that you have a circumspect team, you don’t have to move in with that hockey player . And you can come home; be with me. I miss you, Parker.”
Bowen’s grunt of disapproval was pronounced this time, his frown deepening as he listened.
“If you won’t come home, then at least you can buy a house with your inheritance and move out of that tiny apartment. You could live the life you’re accustomed to. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, you don’t have to live like a pauper.”
I crossed my arms, my frustration bubbling over. “That hockey player is my boyfriend and I’m moving in with him.” Moving in with him was awfully quick, and it was still early in our relationship. We hadn’t even used the L word. But I had a good feeling about our chances and our future.
Bowen gave me a thumbs up, and I playfully rolled my eyes and grinned. “But I’d appreciate Father’s bodyguards until we can set something up ourselves.”
Mother’s sigh was heavy, a sound filled with resigned disappointment. “I’ll tell him to keep them in place, if you insist on continuing with this folly.”
“I do. This is my life now, and I’m going to live it.” My finger hovered over the red button. “I love you, Mom, but I have to go.”
“Love you too,” she said quietly. Her words sounded heartfelt despite her mission for my father. “Think about coming home.”
I ended the call. The silence that followed was thick with uncertainty. I raised my gaze to Bowen’s, searching for reassurance, for understanding. His eyes were unreadable, a storm of emotions swirling just beneath the surface.
“I’m not moving home,” I said resolutely, needing him to believe me, to trust in my decision.
His grunt of relief was quiet but unmistakable, and for the first time since this whirlwind began, I felt a glimmer of hope. We were in this together, and together we would face whatever came next.
I returned to my task, packing my toiletries, two suitcases stuffed with clothing and essentials, my laptop, and tablet. This wasn’t just a move—it was an uprooting of the sanctuary I’d created.
I cleaned out the perishables from my refrigerator, methodically placing them into a cooler. The action was simple, almost mundane, yet each movement felt like another step away from the life I loved. As Bowen silently carried everything out to his Highlander and my CR-V, I wandered through my apartment, taking in the space that had been my retreat.
I ran a finger along the smooth surface of the kitchen table I’d assembled myself. I’d spent hours hunched over the pieces, cursing at screws that wouldn’t align and instructions that made no sense. Putting it together had taken me twice as long as it should have, but I didn’t care. The table was sturdy and functional. A quiet pride welled up in me, mingling with the sadness of leaving it behind.
My gaze landed on a colorful, misshapen pottery bowl sitting on the counter, a piece that would never grace the polished surfaces of my parents’ mansion. It was far from perfect, the glaze uneven, the shape slightly off, but it was mine—created with my own hands in a class I’d taken. I was proud of that bowl, proud of what it represented: the new life I had carved out for myself.
With one last look around, I shut the door on the apartment that had been my refuge. The click of the lock echoed in the hallway. I’d miss the anonymity, the freedom to be just Parker, not Parker Brevos, daughter of Benjamin Brevos. Effing Harrison. His betrayal had shattered the delicate balance I’d achieved, thrusting me back into a world I had tried so hard to escape.
Bowen stomped back into the hallway. His fists were clenched, his jaw tight, and a storm brewed in his eyes. My heart lurched.
“We have a big problem,” he said. An icy finger traced down my spine.
I frowned, worry eating at my stomach. “What’s wrong?”
“The press is in the parking garage.”
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. My neck hairs prickled as a cold shiver ran through me. They’d found me. Already. The fragile illusion of safety shattered in an instant.
“Eric is at the exit,” Bowen said, steadying my tripping heart. “He’s going to drive you to my condo before the reporters catch up. I’ll meet you there.”
I nodded, my mind racing, trying to process the rapid shift in my reality. The weight of it all pressed down on me, threatening to pull me under.
Bowen stepped closer, his arms enveloping me in a protective embrace. His scent, a mix of spicy body wash and something uniquely him, surrounded me. He cradled my head against his chest, the solid, reassuring beat of his heart slowing my own frantic pulse until it matched his. “It will be all right,” he reassured me.
For a moment, I let myself sink into the safety of his arms, into the warmth of his embrace. His chest, hard and sculpted beneath my cheek, was a solid barrier. I nestled closer, drawing strength from him. “Okay,” I whispered.
Reluctantly, I backed away, squaring my shoulders, and nodded once sharply. “Let’s do it.”
We took firm strides down the hallway. Bowen opened the door and stepped through first, his broad shoulders blocking my view. I peeked around him, my heart pounding again as I caught sight of the chaos outside. News vans, microphones, and cameras were pointed in our direction; a police officer barely held back the throng of reporters and onlookers. My stomach turned with fear and defiance.
But then, I reminded myself of who I was. I was Parker Freaking Brevos. I was raised in the spotlight, groomed to face the world with poise and grace, no matter the circumstances. I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and stepped out from behind Bowen. The cameras clicked, the video cams rolled, and the reporters erupted into a cacophony of shouted questions.
“Parker! Why did you hide your identity as Benjamin Brevos’s daughter?”
“Are you going to return to Boston now that your secret is out?”
“What does your father think of your decision to hide?”
“Was Bowen Monroe aware of your background before the news broke?”
“Are you and Harrison Bennett reconciling?”
The barrage of questions hit me like a tidal wave. My stomach sank, their questions settling in like a heavy stone. But I didn’t answer. I didn’t give them even the satisfaction of a “No comment.” My life was my own, and I intended to keep it that way.
If only that were possible.
My SUV waited at the curb, Eric at the wheel, his expression impassive as he watched the scene unfold. Bowen opened the passenger door with brisk and efficient movements. I gave him a quick kiss, a gesture as much for the cameras as it was for us. It was a silent statement, an answer to one of the many questions thrown at me: Bowen and I were together, and we were in this fight side by side.
I slid into the seat, the leather cool against my skin.
“Seatbelt,” Eric ordered.
I clicked it into place, then gave Bowen a final wave as Eric peeled away from the curb with a screech. I glanced out the rear window, watching the reporters scramble to follow us, but we had a head start.
Eric navigated the streets, weaving in and out of traffic with skill, pushing the speed limit. I clung to the oh-shit handle, my heart racing in time with the car as we sped through yellow lights and banked around corners.
“My parents will want me to get there in one piece,” I squeaked out with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.
Eric chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly warm given the circumstances. “I was at the top of my class in defensive driving.”
That made me feel a bit better. A tiny bit.
I peered in my side mirror, searching for any sign of pursuit. “Anyone following us?”
“No, but they’ll guess we’re going to Bowen’s condo. We just have to beat them there.”
As Bowen’s building came into sight, the absence of news vans was such a relief it left me momentarily lightheaded. Eric pulled into the driveway, the parking garage gate opening before us. Confusion flickered through my mind and I frowned. “How did that happen?”
“I got you a parking gate sensor,” Eric replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “I have an elevator key card for you, and a key to Mr. Monroe’s apartment, too.”
My brows knitted together in concern. Bowen would not be happy about that . “How…why?”
Eric snapped his gaze to mine, his expression serious. “I’ve been preparing for multiple contingencies ever since you moved to San Jose.”
He wound through the garage with the ease of someone who knew every corner, every blind spot. “Are you…are you the team lead?”
“Yes.”
“How many are on the team?”
“There are six of us,” he said as he smoothly pulled into a parking space. “I speak for the team when I say we’d like to continue as your private security.”
“Would you consider working for me instead of my parents?” I asked, needing to establish the boundaries of our relationship. Their loyalty had to be to me—I couldn’t have the team tattling to my parents.
“Yes, ma’am. And your privacy would be in our contract.”
“It’s strange for you to be so formal after we shot the shit at Scrimmage’s. Just call me Parker,” I said, trying to lighten the mood even as the reality of my situation weighed heavily on me.
“Yes, ma—Parker.” He grinned, the dimples that had made the ladies—and a few men—swoon during his time at the bar making an appearance. The sight of them brought a small, unexpected smile to my lips, a moment of normalcy.
Bowen pulled up a short time later. My door opened, and he was there, hand outstretched, his presence a stabilizing force as I stepped out on legs still wobbly from the adrenaline-fueled roller coaster ride. I clung to the relief that washed over me at the sight of him.
“They’re following me here,” I said, barely above a whisper, a tremor of fear threading through the words.
Bowen grimaced, and a shadow passed over his features. He was always so calm, so in control, but the tightness around his eyes and the set of his jaw betrayed his concern. “They were right behind me,” he said with quiet resignation.
Eric exited the SUV with a purposeful stride, his expression unruffled. “The important thing is that we got Mi—Parker here before they arrived. And I’ll be available to escort her anywhere she wants to go while you’re on your road trip.”
Bowen turned his questioning gaze on me, his brow furrowed. His eyes were searching, probing, as if trying to gauge my state of mind.
“I’m hiring Eric and his team to continue as my personal security,” I explained, the decision settling over me like a protective shield, one I had reluctantly accepted.
“You sure about that?”
I nodded. It wasn’t what I had envisioned for my life, but it was necessary, and I needed to own it. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Good enough for me,” Bowen said. His acceptance was a small comfort.
Eric fished something out of the pocket of his jeans. “Here’s your elevator key card and the key to Mr. Monroe’s apartment.”
Bowen’s expression darkened; his demeanor took on a hard edge. “The fuck?” he muttered. “How’d you get my key?”
Eric shrugged. “You need to be more careful with it in the locker room.”
Bowen grumbled under his breath, a few choice words escaping, but I could see the wheels turning in his mind.
This was our new reality: constant vigilance, the need to be hyper-aware of our surroundings. It wasn’t the life we wanted, but it was the one we had now. Disappointment rolled over me like the San Francisco fog, thick and suffocating. I’d wanted to live my life without constantly looking over my shoulder. But I guessed that wasn’t possible, not anymore.
Eric helped us carry my belongings up to Bowen’s condo. As he handed me a card, he met my eyes with a professionalism tempered by the friendship we’d shared at Scrimmage’s. “Here’s my card. Call me tomorrow and we’ll begin the hiring process. I’m off duty now, but my team is in place. You can go about your business knowing they’ll take care of you.” He gave us a jaunty, two-fingered salute before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the elevator.
Bowen and I stood in silence for a moment, the weight of what had just happened settling over us. He surveyed my suitcases, scrubbed his fingers through his playoff beard, then towed the largest rolling bag to his bedroom. “I’ll make room in my closet, dresser, and bathroom for you.”
I followed him into the room, my stomach fluttering with anxiety and anticipation. This was real. We were about to mingle our lives in ways that went beyond the superficial. My clothes, my belongings—they would be next to his, our lives entwined. The thought of sleeping in his bed every night, of waking up to him in the morning, sent my heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
As I watched him make space for me in his closet, the reality of what Harrison had done struck me with full force. He had changed my situation, and I was going to make the best of it. Determination straightened my spine and raised my chin. I would build a new life, one I loved.
With the man I hoped would grow to love me.
As I was growing to love him.
My heart swelled with the realization. Because we were stuck with each other until the initial tumult blew over and the press moved on to the next big story.