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Oh, wow.
Definitely wasn’t expecting someone so…handsome.
Unlike Ford, with his devilishly sexy good looks, this man appears to have fallen from heaven—all golden skin and perfectly styled dark blond hair. His blue eyes sparkle as he rakes his gaze over my form. A smile curls his lips up and reveals a perfect row of pearly white teeth. He takes a step forward and offers a hand.
“Tyler Constantine, er, Ty.” His grin grows wider. “You must be the lovely Landry Croft. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Dad’s irritation clouds the air around me. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s fuming with it.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, as I take his hand. “I’ve heard lots about you as well.”
Lies.
Ty’s hand is slightly clammy in mine as he squeezes it and gives it a shake. Something about the fact that he might be nervous too calms me considerably. There’s a kindness in his expression that’s disarming.
And I absolutely cannot afford to be disarmed when in the presence of my father.
Jerking my hand from his, I force a wide smile. “Thank you for joining us for dinner.” Dad steps between us and his palm finds the small of my back. He guides me over to one of the dining room chairs. It feels like a blatant show of possession. As though he wants to remind everyone in the room that I’m his and he’s allowing this other man to be present. Dad pulls out the chair and I sit in it. He takes the seat on the end and Ty sits in Della’s usual spot across from me.
“So,” I say too cheerily, “you’re working with my dad? How are you liking it?”
Noel slips into the dining room with a bottle of wine. We all pretend she isn’t here as she pours our drinks and Ty prattles on about how excited he is to work with my father.
“Mr. Constantine is doing a wonderful job thus far.” Dad drains his wineglass and gestures it toward Ty. “He’s a natural.”
Ty’s cheeks turn pink and he offers me a sheepish grin. “Thanks, Mr. Croft.”
“It’s Alexander in my home,” Dad says, smirking. “Tomorrow morning, though, it’ll be business as usual.”
While dinner is served and the two of them discuss some things they worked on today, I keep sneaking glances over at Ty. He’s really cute, but the fact that he seems nice, too, is a huge relief. I find myself relaxing and joining in on the conversation much more easily than before. Dinner seems to pass quickly as Ty regales us with funny tales of college life and that of his place in the Constantine family.
Dad’s phone rings and he excuses himself from the table and stalks across the living room to his office. Ty smiles at me, his blue eyes gleaming with interest. I blush at his attention, biting back a smile of my own.
“I’d like to take you out, Landry. Just the two of us. I think…” He glances toward the doorway. “I think we’d both feel a lot more comfortable without him breathing down our necks.”
A cold sweat trickles down my spine.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I murmur, body tensing. “Dad is…overprotective.”
“You think?”
Ty is definitely a lot more playful when not in Dad’s presence, but that just puts me on edge. With Dad, you always have to be on guard. You can’t be playful. You just can’t.
“Hey,” he says when I don’t answer. “You okay? You’re white as a ghost.”
Swallowing down the ball of stress in my throat, I nod vigorously. “I’m fine. It’s just—”
My words are cut off when Dad strides back into the room. I dart my gaze to my food hoping like hell I don’t look guilty. But, he sniffs out guilt like a dog with a bone. The air thickens with furious tension.
“Mr. Constantine,” Dad clips out. “I hate to cut the evening short, but it appears my daughter isn’t feeling well. You’ll forgive us for not extending our evening to a nightcap after dinner, right?”
Ty glances at me but then slowly nods. “Oh, sure. Yeah, no problem, Alexander.” He rises to his feet. “I guess I’ll get going. Dinner was great, but the company was better.”
Though they’re both standing, I wisely remain seated. I wriggle my fingers at Ty in farewell, but don’t dare try and shake his hand again. The two of them walk out of the dining room, leaving me to my spinning thoughts. When I’m sure I can stand without my knees buckling, I make a hasty exit, heading straight for my bedroom.
I hate this place.
I hate him.
I’ve barely made it into my room when thunderous footsteps can be heard behind me. I swivel around to face my father’s furious glare.
But this is more than an angry look.
He’s pissed and he pounces before I can prepare for it. The strike of his hand across my cheek is startling and powerful. It sends me careening into the wall. A cry of surprise bursts from me. My ankle screams in protest when it tries to twist wrong and I fall hard to my hands and knees.
