Page 6 of Spike (Iron Thunder MC 5)
“Sabrina, sweetheart, I’m worried about you.”
“Why, Daddy, what has Lena told you?” I hissed into the phone.
“I think you need to come home, sweetheart, back where you belong. You’ve spent enough time in Paris by yourself, don’t you think?”
I was going to argue. I was going to scream and protest and tell him I never wanted to leave. I never wanted to go back to New York, but what was the alternative? Live here in Paris by myself? Like Brett and his friends?
If there was one thing my experience with Brett had taught me, it was that I wasn’t capable of making reliable judgment calls. I had no idea how to figure out a person accurately.
“Fine,” I had replied to Daddy. It stunned him as much as it stunned me. Neither of us was expecting me to give in that easily.
“Good. I’ll get your flight booked.”
That was the last time I spoke to him, four days ago. In some of my fantasies since then, I dreamt about the possibility of running away, changing my name, creating a new identity, but every time I thought about that, I was reminded of Brett and how stupid I had been.
I would never make it out in the real world by myself. I was dependent on my father for everything. For every decision. I would never be free.Thankfully, he wasn’t at the airport to receive me. He sent one of his cars and a chauffeur to collect me. I was relieved, not knowing if I could fake being happy to see him. I had a lot on my mind and was filled with self-loathing and exhaustion. Besides, the jet lag was killing me.
I rode in the car all the way to our home in silence. I didn’t take off my sunglasses, didn’t bother checking the messages on my phone, didn’t even take a sip of water although my throat was dry.
Driving through the streets, I didn’t feel nostalgic or homely. I had been away for so many months.
We arrived at the house a while later; traffic was a bitch. The jet lag had now escalated to a thumping ache at the back of my head. I just wanted to be in my room, preferably asleep with all the shades pulled down, in complete silence and complete darkness.
One of our housekeepers, Cherie, along with the chauffeur, started carrying all my bags to the house. I smiled at Cherie. She was probably the only person I was genuinely happy to see. When I looked around the driveway and at the house, it seemed as if there were more people around. More guards.
I went through. No eye contact. I attempted to head directly for my room.
“Sabrina!” In the hallway, I stopped in my tracks. I heard his voice. Jim. My father’s right-hand man.
I turned to look at him, and my eyes were burning already.
“I hope you had a good trip. Your father would like to see you in his office.”
“I have a headache. I need to change and lie down for a while. I’ll talk to him in a bit.”
“He wants to see you now,” Jim said, this time a little more firmly. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw this man smile. I knew there was no point in fighting this; Jim and my father would always have their way.
I caught Cherie’s eye. She was carrying my bags toward my room. I knew she sympathized, even though we had never spoken about it openly.
Without another word, I followed Jim to my father’s office. He knocked before opening the door and I stepped in.
“Sabrina, sweetheart!” Daddy shouted. I was about to force myself to smile till I noticed we weren’t alone. Daddy was behind his desk. Jim had stepped in with me, and standing near the desk was a man I had never seen before. The kind of man who shouldn’t have been in my father’s office.
Leather jacket, tattoos, thick metal rings on his big masculine fingers. He had dark hair that reached his shoulders. Very deep, very majestic brown eyes to match his sharp chiseled nose. He was a tall man. Muscular and strong. The kind of man I had never met in my life personally.
I had no idea what to think or what to say. I was in shock. I couldn’t think of one good reason why a man like him would be in the same room as Daddy.
I had to drag my gaze away from him and look questioningly around.
“What’s going on?” were the only words that I managed to say. I needed some answers. This didn’t feel right.3SpikeJeffrey Wyndham sat behind his desk at a spot where the light in the window filtered right on top of his shiny bald spot. It created a limelight effect and I wanted to chuckle. The thing was, I still wasn’t taking this job seriously.
