2. Beck
CHAPTER 2
Beck
“Congratulations, Mr. Bennet. The house is officially yours.” Gabby Espinoza, my real estate agent, shook my hand after I signed on the dotted line. The last of the dotted lines, if we were being precise.
Purchasing a house was akin to signing your life away.
In this case, that turned out to be a good thing because Alice and I were getting our very own brownstone.
A place with an actual backyard, just a stone's throw away from her new school. I wouldn't have to worry about her on the terrace of the skyscraper we’d called home for the past seven years.
Maybe we could even get that dog she’d asked for every day since she was three.
I dragged a hand through my hair. I should have done this sooner.
The guilt pooled low in my gut and I tossed it to the side.
Better late than never . At least that's what I told myself.
“Daddy, when do we move in?” Alice asked from her chair beside me in the real estate office in Brooklyn. The stark white office looked nothing like those real estate shows on television.
Gabby lined up all the papers in front of her. “You can move in as soon as the ink is dry.”
“Wonderful.” I picked up my phone and texted my assistant, Miles, to make the arrangements with the moving company. I planned to get new furniture for the new place, so it was mostly Alice's toys and our clothes that would make the trek from Manhattan to Brooklyn.
Alice had created a Pinterest board a month ago in anticipation of us finding the perfect family home. I hadn't even known about Pinterest until she pulled it up on my computer in the middle of a work call.
I turned to my daughter, her shock of curls obstructing some of her face. “Should we go out to celebrate?”
“Can we do pizza and ice cream?” Her earnest expression reminded me that this little girl held the key to my heart.
“Absolutely.” I stood, reaching for her hand. I figured I had a year or two tops before she started protesting. We waved goodbye to Gabby. She'd be in touch within the hour, making sure I had copies of everything. The woman was efficient, which was one of the many things I appreciated about her.
Alice pressed the call button on the elevator that took us down ten stories to the ground floor.
“Want to walk by the new place first? Then we can time it to see how long it takes to get from our new home to the nearest pizzeria.” I palmed my phone in my other hand, navigating Yelp to see that there were a couple of pizza places and ice cream options nearby.
Alice tugged my hand, glancing up at me. “Daddy, maybe we could get ice cream first .” She batted her eyelashes and brought her hands into a prayer pose. “Please. Pretty please.”
I shook my head. “You know my stance.”
“But—”
“No buts about it.”
“Dad, don't be so cringe.” She rolled her eyes and in that moment, I caught a glimpse into the very near future. My feisty little girl would turn into a teenager, and I was not mentally prepared for that.
I should probably start reading some books. Not that I had free time on my hands. All my time was devoted to my daughter and my business, as it should be.
The business boomed. Damn, did it boom.
Turns out, our country wasn't the best at taking care of its veterans. That was where I came in. I offered good, meaningful work and employed retirees from all arms of the military.
Protection was big business. Especially when those doing the protecting had as much training as my people had.
I employed the best, the brightest, the boldest. My clients paid well for that. Everyone from professional athletes, to pop singers, to elected officials. There were a few billionaire clients on the roster too, including my friends Sebastian Steele and Dominic Waters. I charged them double since they usually pushed the boundaries of our friendship and what was expected of bodyguards. Plus, they intentionally withheld information to fuck with me.
If they called, I answered. They might not have served with me overseas, but that didn't make them any less my brothers.
“Daddy, look,” my daughter shouted, pointing across the street. “Ice cream shop.”
She gave me the biggest eyes, silently pleading for me to reconsider.
“No.” I held firm, even though her smile fell. I'd give myself gold stars for sticking to my guns. Just then we came upon a pizzeria. The smell of yeast and melted cheese permeated onto the busy street.
My stomach grumbled. “Come on, Al. Let's eat.”
“Fiiine,” she said, full of sass, all the while beaming at me, the expression tugging on my heartstrings even more.