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“Rand.” Gale’s voice is too flat, his expression too hard.
There must be something I can do to get ahead of this, but I’m unsure what is even happening.
“I guess we should move forward then,” Dad says.
Eric Gale only nods before he turns to head down the hall. What deal has Eric struck with us? If I don’t figure this out fast, we'll be screwed. Eric is a client, but he’s not one of our biggest. I think Eric has been using us as a favor to my father. But this seems to be beyond the simple favor and into something much more daunting.
“I’m leaving my guard with her,” Eric says before we step into the room.
What is he talking about? A chill sweeps over me as I follow them into the library. Mrs. Gale looks angry as she holds the young woman’s arm in a vise grip. Something deeper than just business is happening, and I’m in the dark. Worse, I think I’m lost on an old trail and in the dark. This is going to be bad.
"I have a meeting in twenty," Gale says. "Sign this, and we'll be square."
I try to move fast, jumping in to see what my father is signing, but Dad takes the contract and turns. I'm about to open my mouth, invalidating the entire proceedings with an objection, when Dad inks his name.
Well shit. We’re in trouble now. Gale isn’t a man to be trifled with, and I think we just played a bad hand.
“Thank you,” Gale says. “I expect premium service. The wedding will happen before next week.”
With that, Mr. and Mrs. Gale stride out with one guard, leaving behind the young woman and one of the goons.
"Ah, Niallan, would you show Miss Adali to the guest's room, then we can get down to business?"
My gaze flits between my father and the young woman who is too pretty for words and way too young for my father. I pray he hasn’t agreed to marry her. She will be hell on him. There’s no way he’ll survive marrying this woman. Shit, we’re all going to die.
ChapterThree
Adali
There’s no escaping this. Mother has made it clear I’ll be forced into becoming a nun if I embarrass them. The guard they’ve left with me doesn’t give a shit if I’m tortured. He’s the one who put me in the closet in the basement. I’ve tried seducing him, but it doesn’t work. He’s either gay or paid well enough to ignore me. Or Eric could have threatened him. The man is brutal.
The guy with the old fart, what is his name? I heard something that sounded like Allen, but that wasn’t what he said.
“This way,” the young hottie says as he heads up the stairs.
My ever-present guard walks beside me, his face impassive. I can’t run. There’s nowhere to go. Everyone I know in this town bows to my father. No one will go behind his back and sneak me out of the country. Delilah escaped and experienced freedom for a short while, but then again, she was brought back by my brother. Freedom doesn’t exist for me. Even if my money grows, I’ll be stuck here and never live on my own.
“I hope the room is to your liking. We’re in between house staff right now. If you need something from the kitchen, I suggest you go down and get it.”
I blink at him, wondering if he just told me to do something in the kitchen. “I’ve never boiled water.”
"Well, there's no time like the present to learn. I'll be up later to check on you." The man turns to my guard and flashes a smile. "If you need anything, just give me a shout. We'll be in my father's office."
He takes off, and I stare after him, wondering what the hell is going on here. Why would my father hand me over to a man who has no house staff? I'll escape the first chance I get. This setup might just be what I've been looking for.
“Don’t come out of your room,” the guard says.
The guard’s name is Stephen, I think. I’ve never been told what to call him other than number eight. My father doesn’t want us to get attached to the help. Of course, he doesn’t call them the help, but that’s what they are. No doubt, Stephen will report back to my dad if I step out of line.
The room isn’t so bad. There are no electronics in here other than a TV I can watch. I’m tired of TV and movies. I want the choice to be myself, but that’s not going to happen unless I make it happen.
In lieu of escape, I search the bathroom and find the window is one of those glass brick styles, so there is no escape that way. The shower looks nice, and the tub is huge. There are loads of soft towels, plenty of products to treat myself, but nothing to help me escape.
In the main room, the windows open about four inches. My father must have talked to the old man and told him I'd try to escape. I'm just as much a prisoner here as I am anywhere else.
Maybe I can pull an escape like what I did in Grand Caymans, but Stephen, or whatever his name is, won’t fall for that. That guard was fired and maybe more, but I’m not sure.
The bed looks inviting. Gauzy fabric flows from the ceiling and drapes over the bed. It’s very feminine, more like what a teenager would sleep in. Maybe a ridiculous movie set for some raunchy show?
