CHAPTER SIX
STELLA
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Then he won’t touch you.
I fell asleep with Declan’s words playing on autopilot inside my mind like they’re a security blanket. And they are the first things I think of when I wake up.
Well, perhaps it’s the second.
First, I remember the way he looked at me, the roughness of his voice, and how much I wanted to lean into his big, muscular chest and feel him wrapping his arms around me.
How it would feel like the safest place in the world.
Strange.
But true.
I get showered and changed, then go downstairs to make a coffee. By the time I’m pouring my first cup, my phone rings.
“Morning, Dad.”
“What the hell is this?” he demands.
“Do you want to be more specific?”
“Do not get smart with me, Stella. Your security has just advised me that you fired them.”
“Hmm, mmm.” I sip my coffee. “Well, technically, I can’t fire them. They’re employed by you. I’ve simply hired my own team.”
With your money, but anyhoo.
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“STELLA!” he booms, and I reduce the volume on the phone after flinching.
“I am well within my rights to have my own security,” I reply a little less confidently after being triggered by his, what I call, scary dad tone. It’s a hell of a lot scarier than your regular suburban father.
“What are you up to?” he asks, distrust lacing his words.
“I’m protecting myself!” I snap. “Just remember I’m the one saving you from, and I quote, floating in the Hudson, and if I want my own bodyguard then that’s what I’ll do.”
He’s silent, and I immediately second-guess my response and choices. As a child, when he went quiet, it never meant anything good. That same fear shimmers through me now.
Dad’s voice is low and deadly when he finally starts talking again. “Never speak those words again over the phone. If you cause any trouble, there will be consequences, Stella.”
Nice.
Talk about on-brand, Dad.
Every day since this mess began, I’ve woken up crying, knowing my future has been chosen for me. That if I refuse, I’m signing my father’s death warrant. Perhaps even mine and Mom’s. I just don’t know.
With every tear I cry, I hate him a little bit more.
When I glance up, Declan walks in and leans against the door jamb. Christ, I was hoping I’d imagined how handsome he was yesterday.
Nope. He’s ten times hotter today.
How is that possible?
He’s swapped the formal blazer for a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up his arms. Even from here I can see the sexy ropes of his muscles, which sends little butterflies spiraling inside my tummy.
My eyes dip inappropriately to his black pants, then snap back up.
“Gotta go, Dad.”
“The car will pick you up on Thursday to head to the Marino Estate. Make sure you’re dressed appropriately and not late.”
“I will follow you out there.” I grumble.
“Stella. Do not argue with me,” he growls.
Declan straightens, crossing his arms as his brows bunch. He watches me curiously.
So very protective.
I feel my nipples harden inappropriately. But his presence also gives me confidence I didn’t have when I was alone.
“Dad, we’ll follow you or meet you there.” I dig my heels in. “I’m not going alone or without my bodyguard. You know why, so I’m not spelling it out.”
I hang up.
Sighing, I take a sip of my coffee and watch Declan walk over to the counter.
“Is there going to be an issue on Thursday?” he asks, taking a seat.
Yes, probably.
“No.” I pour him a mug. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Black.” He lifts it to his lips and sips.
When his eyes close partway in pleasure, I shudder and wonder what lucky woman gets to spend her nights with him.
Snap out of it, for goodness’ sake.
I bet he can tell I’m attracted to him. Under the circumstances, I need to get a handle on this and focus on the very reason I’ve hired him.
Protecting myself, not getting laid.
“Sorry you had to hear that.” I press my lips together. “My father can be controlling.”
Declan doesn’t comment on that. Instead, he focuses on the logistics. “Let’s discuss the visit to the Marino’s house. I need to know what to expect and if we need any other backup. What do you know?”
I swallow.
“Nothing. We are meeting for the first time. I don’t know the address, or...I don’t know much about the man. I guess it will be...a nice surprise.” My cheeks heat as the lie slips from my lips.
If I can’t tell him how dangerous this is for me and my father, then I’ll have to convince him I’m just nervous to meet the man I’ve been arranged to marry.
He doesn’t buy it.
Declan’s gray eyes roam my face, acknowledging my bullshit silently, and while he’s trained to show little emotional reaction, I can’t help but notice the flicker of concern in his eyes.
I wish he’d signed the damn NDA.
I can’t risk him sharing anything with the authorities and putting me or my family in danger.
Acting happy and na?ve is my only option.
“Tony...” I almost barf using his name. “Wants to speak to me privately.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I don’t have a choice.
“Yes.”
Fuck, no.
“Okay.” Declan nods as he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling. “We have the address. The team back at head office pulled up information about the property, but what I’m looking for from you are any details on what you expect to take place during the meeting that would help me prepare.”
I want to know that, also.
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
Declan turns his mug. “What is your goal during this meeting?”
I choke on my coffee and start coughing.
The goal is to stay alive and not find myself floating in the Hudson River along with my father. I simply want to get in and out without any trouble. I’ve had several nightmares of Tony holding me at gunpoint while I’m forced to say my wedding vows.
I shiver.
“Ah,” cough, cough. “To meet my betrothed and enjoy the evening with him.”
My stomach lurches.
“I’m just nervous and being careful.” I shake my head and smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. “I’m going to be his wife, so I shouldn’t be nervous.”
“But you don’t feel safe.” Declan's eyes meet mine and there’s an intensity to them that has me drawing in breath.
I plant a better smile on my face once I catch myself and consider my response.
Shame rushes through me as I feel his judgment.
Declan is older and can probably see right through my bullshit. And here I am lying while I protect my horrible father while also imagining my bodyguard naked.
And I’m pretty sure he knows.
That said, I don’t know anyone who could live with themselves if they knew their father’s life hung in the balance, if they’d just do this one thing.
One thing?
Like marry a man who is hardly the pillar of society.
Imagine if I said no, and then a week later I was told Dad was dead or missing? That doesn’t mean I haven’t woken up every morning and almost said I won’t do it. I have. But the picture of standing beside my mother at his graveside stops me every time.
“Getting married is a big step for any girl.” I brush it off and toss back the rest of my coffee, then let out a weird half laugh. “I’m sure it’s just nerves.”
I don’t wait for a response.
I can feel his eyes on me as I slide off the stool, plonk my cup in the sink and head to my office, where I log in.
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STUDYING MY CALENDAR for the week, I can’t help focusing on Thursday where I’ve blocked out the time to meet with Tony Marino.
God.
Not knowing what to expect is giving me enormous anxiety. Is he planning to propose? Will he shove a ring on my finger and have some official there to marry us on the spot?
If he did, would I never return to my penthouse?
Then he won’t touch you.
We both know he couldn’t stop Tony touching me if he were my husband. He even said so himself.
If that happens, I’ll be trapped in that world until I think it’s safe to ask for a divorce.
And if he won’t give it to me?
I zone out as a tear slides down my face.
The weight of this is so heavy, and I can’t tell anyone.
Wiping my cheeks and pulling myself together, I focus back on my schedule and cringe at the word count I need to meet for my publisher.
I could use the news of my engagement to get an extension. Let’s face it, my writing craft needs improving, and right now I can barely focus.
Most women getting married would be filling their calendars with facials and manicures, fitness plans and dress shopping.
Dad has stolen that magical moment from me.
If I do get out of the marriage alive, I’ll always be a divorced woman. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but at least other women married someone they a) knew b) weren’t terrified of c) weren’t sure they’d leave the marriage in a box afterward and d) loved or at least liked the man.
A lot of assumptions there, but for the most part I know I’m right.
God, I hate you, Dad.
I Google how to put on thirty pounds in four days and wonder if I shave my head and eat fatty foods so my skin breaks out if Tony would reject me.
That’s when it hits me.
Does he even know what I look like? Or is it irrelevant and he just wants to punish my father for the money he owes?
I’m a pawn in their game.
I can’t believe I used to think it was romantic that a bad alpha would force the heroine to marry him then fall in love with him in a romance novel. One dominant kiss after another.
Not this time.
This time the bad guy is my father.