Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
Isaac
My girl is slightly off-kilter, and it’s my fault. I’m causing her to feel unsettled. I want her to trust me to make the right decisions for our new normal, both inside and outside the apartment. I want her to realize that I will hold her differently when we’re alone, but I will still make it clear she’s mine when others are watching.
Before the elevator doors open, I release her and return to touching only the small of her back. I love the little shudder that slides down her body. I love this dress, too. From the moment she first entered the kitchen, I’ve been thinking about what’s under it.
The top of the dress is slinky and fitted. I’m almost certain she doesn’t have a bra on, and if I slid a finger under the V between her breasts, I would be able to stroke her nipple. The entire dress hangs perfectly on her, and I find it equally unlikely that she has on panties, either. I haven’t noticed a single line.
Is she trying to kill me? Perhaps. But this isn’t an unusual dress for someone her age and build who’s got an appointment or plans to shop. She looks casual enough. Hopefully, no one will ogle her and cause me to growl at them.
After helping her into the SUV, I stretch the seatbelt across her and buckle her in while she stares at me. When I’m finished, she rolls her eyes and says, “Thanks, Dad.”
I’m still leaning into the car, so I use one finger under her chin—careful not to touch her cut—and meet her gaze. “You’ll add a Y to the end of that, or you don’t say it at all. If you sass me, I will spank your naughty bottom. Would you like me to do that here in the parking garage before we leave?”
Her eyes go wide. “No, Sir,” she whispers.
“I didn’t think so. Stick with Isaac, Sir, or Daddy. You may decide which of those is appropriate in any given circumstance, but how about you refrain from calling me names? Jerk face and turd monger were certainly creative the other night, but the next time you talk to me in that tone, I will discipline you.”
Her cheeks pinken. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” I back out of the car, shut the door, scan the area for other people, and round to the driver’s side. I feel much more relaxed once I have the doors locked and the engine running. This SUV is equipped with bulletproof glass. Spence doesn’t fuck around when it comes to his sister’s safety.
As I ease out of the spot, I think back on when I was first hired. I couldn’t imagine why this bratty woman needed a bodyguard. It seemed like overkill. She was twenty-eight at the time, a full-grown adult. It made no sense.
Eventually, I learned more about her kidnapping, the ransom demands, and the amount of money these two inherited when their parents died. I also found out how their parents passed. I did that research on my own instead of asking.
It still brings chills to the back of my neck when I remember reading the article about the explosion at the bank that instantly took both of their lives. They’d been there to take something out of their safe deposit box. Though the crime was never solved, nor were there any leads, it was obvious that someone knew the Wakefields would be there at that time and orchestrated a heist. The burglars hadn’t done enough research on the bank’s procedures, though. They hadn’t counted on the vault automatically locking everyone both in and out. If they were in the building prepared to join the Wakefields and rob them of the contents of their safe deposit box, their attempts were thwarted.
After I read every bit of information available concerning the Wakefields’ murder, I understood much better why Amber needed a security detail. I’d almost rather lock her up and never let her leave the apartment, but that’s not reasonable, so I protect her with my life.
Amber outwardly insists that her brother is over the top and she doesn’t need a bodyguard, but I’ve always believed her arguments were a front. She understands the danger she’s in. She just doesn’t like it.
I’m scanning the area as I drive through the streets of Seattle, glancing at Amber now and then because it’s what I do. She hasn’t said a word since I got in the car, and I wonder if she’s upset with me being so highhanded in the garage.
She’s wringing her hands together in her lap. When we come to a traffic light, she finally turns to me. Her eyes are watery. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she chokes out.
My heart stutters as I frown and reach over to take her hands. “What are you sorry for, baby?”
“Sassing you. Calling you Dad. Are you mad?”
I squeeze her hands. “No, baby. Goodness. I could never be mad at you. I’m simply navigating this new reality we’re living in one step at a time. I think your Little needs boundaries, and she’s going to get them.” I lift a brow.
She pulls her hands free and wipes her tears before smiling at me. “Okay. Thank you.”
The light changes, and I continue. When I reach the corner where we’re close enough to the shops she wants to visit and the gallery, I’m lucky to find a spot on the street.
After parallel parking, I turn to her. “Deep breath, baby.”
She inhales slowly.
“Good girl. You okay?”
“Yes.” She nods.
“Stay there until I get around to help you out.”
“Okay.”
This is our norm. I always ask her to stay in the car. I like to look around at our surroundings before I let her out. She almost never obeys me because my girl lives on the edge, but today, she stays put. Maybe her Little will be more obedient than her adult. If only I could be that lucky.
With a hand on the small of her back, I guide her into the art store. It’s not very large, and I easily take in every person inside—two customers who are looking at colored pencils and the owner.
“Morning, Amber. How are you today?” the owner, Jed, asks.
“Doing well. Thank you.” Amber stands taller and heads directly for the counter.
Jed’s eyes suddenly widen. “Oh my. What happened to your chin?”
Amber sighs. “It met with a dresser when I was rushing around yesterday. It turns out a few hours in urgent care getting stitches slows a person down more than if they’d just taken their time in the first place.”
Jed chuckles. “I guess so. Good advice. I’ll mention that to my wife when she’s trying to do ten things at once.” He rounds the counter. “What can I help you find?”
I tune out most of their discussion as I follow Amber around the small art store. It’s family-owned with a strong emphasis on customer service, which is why the owner knows her name and everything about her art career.
I leave a few feet of space between us, always watching, always listening to the others nearby. I look casual with my jeans, loafers, and black T-shirt, but the black sports coat I’m wearing over my shirt hides the weapon strapped to my side.
When Amber has finished shopping, I grab her bags in one hand and lead her out to the SUV so I can stash them in the back seat before we head to the boutique. As I turn back around and shut the door, Amber’s breath catches, and she jerks her gaze to the left.
I jump in front of her, scanning the area. “What is it, baby?” I ask.
“I…I don’t know. Maybe nothing. I just had the weirdest sensation I was being watched. I’m probably being overly sensitive.”
I continue to look around for several more seconds, but I see nothing out of the ordinary. Finally, I take Amber’s arm and guide her a few doors down to the boutique. I’d rather she be inside than out in the open like this. Maybe she’s just jumpy, but I would never ignore someone’s gut feeling.
I breathe easier when we step inside.
Amber seems to shake off the odd feeling as she heads toward the counter to greet the owner of this shop, the same as she did in the last one. “Catherine.”
I stay near the door, still looking around, taking in every pedestrian through the front windows. There are no other customers in the shop right now, which eases my nerves a bit, but I don’t like that something spooked my girl.
I’m vaguely aware of Amber telling Catherine the same story about how she hit her chin as she told Jed. I need to remember that explanation so if anyone asks me, my story matches hers.
I turn back to find Amber following Catherine around the boutique. Catherine is holding a few dresses in one hand, chattering about Amber’s style and what she would look best in based on her body type.
Amber looks good in anything and nothing. It will never matter what she wears. Whether she’s in a ponytail at the grocery store or a slinky dress at a gallery exhibition. She always shines brightly.
She turns toward me. “I’m going to try these on.”
I nod, but I follow her.
The boutique has three fitting rooms in the back. There’s also an exit that leads to the alley behind the shop.
Catherine doesn’t comment as I look inside all three fitting rooms and then check that the back door is locked and no one is in the bathroom. She’s seen me go through all these steps before.
Amber is different today, though. Instead of rolling her eyes and making snarky comments, she’s biting her lower lip and shifting her weight back and forth.
I finally nod toward the first fitting room. “Go ahead.”
Catherine bustles into the small space and hangs up the dresses before backing out and letting Amber take her place. “Yell if you need anything.” She wiggles her fingers at Amber and returns to the front counter.
I can see both exits and the counter from where I stand directly next to Amber’s fitting room. Nothing can happen to her in here. And yet, her earlier apprehension has spread to me and is making me uneasy.
After a minute, Amber opens the fitting room door a few inches. “Uh, could you zip me up?”
This is new. I like it. I step closer, blocking the interior of the dressing room with my body, and slowly ease the zipper up my girl’s fucking sexy back. I now know for certain she isn’t wearing a bra or panties. I saw the swell of her butt cheeks.
As soon as she’s fully zipped into the shimmering silver material, she steps forward to look in the mirror.
I don’t know why I’m still standing here, but I can’t take my gaze off her. She’s stunning. Every inch of her. I’m going to swallow my tongue.
Amber turns to face me. “Do you like it?” she asks. She’s not taunting me. She’s asking a serious question, and she expects a serious answer, but she’s not going to get one.
“Baby…”
She lifts her gaze to mine. “What?” She spins back toward the three-way mirror. “Is it too tight?”
“No, baby,” I manage to utter, though it sounds more like a growl. I feel like a possessive wolf shifter from a romance novel. She’s mine. I don’t want anyone else to get near her or touch her. I don’t want anyone besides me to ever see her in this dress.
She twists her head to look at me again. “Isaac… What? Give me some feedback. I can’t tell if it’s awful or you like it. I’m not going to buy it if you think it’s hideous.”
I chuckle. “Amber, I’ve never seen anything sexier in my life. But let’s pretend it’s hideous so I don’t have to punch anyone at the gallery while you’re wearing it.”
She glares at me. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m serious. Maybe you could get a nice sweater to wear over it.”
She rolls her eyes this time. “I can’t wear a sweater over it, jerk face.” She sets her hands on her hips and narrows her gaze.
I lift both brows. “How many minutes has it been since I told you name-calling would not be tolerated?”
She shrugs. “I think it’s been about an hour.” She steps closer and sets her palms on my chest. “Be serious for one minute. Should I buy this dress or not?”
I sigh. “Yes, baby. Buy the dress.” I grab the back of her neck and bring my lips to her ear. “I hope the rush you got from sassing me was worth it.”
She shivers. “It was kind of fun.”
I chuckle. “We’ll see how fun you think it was as soon as we get home.”
“Promises, promises.”