Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Amber
I can hear him out there. It’s distracting me and making it difficult to concentrate. I usually tune Isaac out completely when I’m working, but I’m not in the right headspace today. I’m uncertain where the two of us stand.
Will he heed my warning and pretend last night never happened? Or will he narrow his eyes and silently make me cower? He can do that. He has done it many times.
I stare at my blank canvas. I’m still shaking from what happened last night. I’m such a brat. I probably made things worse when I confronted him. I just wanted to go back to before—before he saw me vulnerable and crossed a line.
Why can’t he see that I need things to stay the same? That I’m too chicken to change them?
I’m not dumb. I know I can’t keep going like this forever, but I want to. I want to live in a bubble where Isaac is always nearby but I never let him all the way in so I can’t get hurt.
I don’t even know what I’m afraid of. It’s not rational. He’s not going to leave me. He’s proven that time and again. But I keep poking and testing him. I keep nudging him toward the door. Won’t he eventually decide I’m not worth it? If the roles were reversed, I’d be long gone.
It’s all so complicated. Keeping him at arm’s length is simple. It keeps my heart from being involved. Doesn’t it? Of course not. I’m lying to myself. My heart has been involved from the moment I first met Isaac. This game we play is a habit. It’s my comfort zone.
He’s right outside this door. He’s probably cooking something for me. The man is the only reason I eat most days. He’s a barrier between me and all things bad. No one is going to come into my apartment and get past him to me.
I usually zone out when I work. I do so knowing that even though an earthquake probably wouldn’t yank me out of my concentration, I don’t have to worry about forces of nature or bad guys because Isaac is here to protect me from both.
I’m a bitch. I close my eyes and rub my temples. Millie’s words keep coming back to me over and over again on repeat. Amber, nobody works twenty-four-seven for any amount of money. Not unless they’re getting something else out of it.
Suddenly, I wonder how much my brother pays Isaac and what the man uses the money for. He must be stockpiling it. Maybe he tolerates me simply because the money is good.
I groan. I’m making shit up. It’s ridiculous. My mind is running rampant with crazy tangents.
I grab my phone and text my brother.
How much do you pay Isaac?
Seconds tick by before I get a response.
What’s going on? Why are you asking?
Now I’m frustrated. Why can’t he just answer me? Isaac technically works for me, doesn’t he? I mean, Spence hired all my bodyguards, and he’s the one who pays them out of our inheritance… So, I guess Isaac really works for both of us. I rarely ask my brother about our inheritance. It’s there. He gives me anything I ask for.
But this is bothering me.
Amber… What’s up with you? I’m worried. Why don’t you come over today? Cassandra would love to see you. She’s been nagging me for weeks.
I stare at my phone, chewing on my bottom lip. I adore Cassandra. We’ve spent some time together, but not a lot. We even went out to lunch once, but Isaac and Ben were with us. They sat in the same booth, pinning us in like children.
That’s not really fair. Their job is to keep us safe. I get it, but I like to whine about it. It’s my schtick.
I continue to stare at my phone. I’d love to see Cassandra. Maybe it would take my mind off things. The problem is that Cassandra is Little. She doesn’t really pop out of the role often, and certainly not when she’s at home. Which means I would most likely get sucked into her Little space.
The idea makes my heart race with excitement while simultaneously scaring me to death. Did I not just twelve hours ago promise to stuff my Little into a box at the top of the closet and never let her out again?
The idea of letting myself be Little makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. When I combine it with Isaac knowing, chills run up my arms. The man could and would so easily Daddy me. He stepped right over the line last night, and if I let him, he will do so again.
My phone rings, startling me so badly I nearly drop it. It’s Cassandra. I take a deep breath and answer. “Hey.” I try to sound calm and relaxed. I’m neither.
“Hi!” The one word is filled with exuberance. It’s hard to be sad around Cassandra. I’m smiling already. “Spence said he invited you over. Will you come? Your brother is like a prison warden. I never get to go anywhere, and I don’t have any friends. If I play one more game of checkers with Ben, I’ll die. Please say you’ll come. It’ll be like a playdate. I’ll ask Alice to make us lunch. We can hide out in my room and barricade the growly Daddies out. Please?”
Shit. It’s hard to turn down Alice’s cooking. My brother is fucking lucky to have her working for him. It’s doubly hard to say no to Cassandra. Plus, she would improve my mood. It’s not like I’m going to get anything done in my studio today. I’m too frazzled. The idea is also scary as fuck, though. Risky. I’m teetering on the edge of madness with Isaac. He will probably eat this up.
“Amber? Will you come?” she encourages.
“Sure.”
She squeals. She’s younger than me. Twenty-two. But age is just a number, I suppose. After all, she’s in a relationship with my brother, who is thirty-five, and Ben, who is forty.
I glance at the closed door to my studio. I’m thirty. Isaac is forty-five. That’s a huge age gap. Isn’t it? And why the hell am I worrying about such a thing? He’s not my man. He’s not my Daddy. He’s my bodyguard.
A bodyguard who called me baby last night. The tone of his voice as he spoke to me is still ringing in my head. It was the most cherished I’ve felt since I was a child, though I’m loathed to admit it—and it scares the fuck out of me.
“Do you need to check with Mr. Bossypants first?” she asks.
I chuckle. She puts me in a good mood. She calls Isaac Mr. Bossypants and fully believes Isaac is my Daddy. That’s why she’s asking. “No. I make my own decisions.” So far .
“Okay. You’ll be here at noon?”
“Yes. Thanks for inviting me. See you then.” As soon as I end the call, I text my brother again.
You’re meddling. And you didn’t answer my question .
You’re welcome, and nope. I did not. See you in a few hours.
Darn him. Why can’t I know Isaac’s salary? Why have I never asked before? Mostly, I’ve pretended I didn’t need or want a bodyguard, so I’ve ignored anything regarding their existence: Isaac and everyone who came before him. However, suddenly, my curiosity is piqued. I want to know how much money motivates Isaac to stay with me.
I’ll nail my brother down in person later. For now, I think I’ll spend a few hours working on something abstract. If I paint something that freely flows out of me, it won’t be right or wrong. Nothing specific. Just whatever my hands decide to do.
I pick up the paintbrush and dip it in the purple. I think I’ll splash some color on the canvas and see where it goes.