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I don’t even know how they manage it. The woman has her legs wrapped around the guy’s waist while he’s keeping them on it with his legs spread into a full split and his feet wrapped around the hoop. He’s moving into her slowly while she gives him complete control of her safety. They remind me of animals who bond together and are mated for life.
The elevator goes further up, and they’re lost from my view. We stop on the fourth floor and step out to an elegantly decorated lounge area.
“This way, please,” the guy says, guiding me by my elbow when I accidentally walk the wrong way.
I’m not thinking that what. I’m just walking like that mindless automaton again. Not knowing what to expect. Then I see him.
Vincent.
He’s standing by the private bar waiting with another guy who looks like him. Another brother. One I haven’t seen. There’re definite similarities between them, except this one has striking blue eyes.
Vincent says something to him, and he glances over at me and gives me a curious look. When he looks back to Vincent, he raises a brow. I don’t know what that means, and I’m not introduced either because he walks away before we reach Vincent.
“Boss,” the guy says.
“Thank you, Tony. Arrange for Pierbo to get back here to take my guest home in an hour,” Vincent orders.
“Yes sir,” Tony answers.
They all have such respect for him, all doing as they’re told. They don’t owe him anything, but they do it because he has power over them.
Tony leaves us, and I straighten up trying to look unfazed by how uncomfortable I am. It’s hard to do it though, with my breasts practically on show, and my ass too for the matter. The slight breeze from a passerby would lift the silky hem of the negligee, and everyone would be able to see I’m wearing a thong.
“Hello,” he says, looking me over. A light of interest flashes in his eyes my damn body doesn’t ignore.
“Hi,” I answer. I’m so worked up though that I can’t keep the tremor out of my voice. “Is my father safe?” I ask, not caring that I sound a little harsh. I need something to work with.
Something to take the edge off.
“He’s in rehab,” he replies, and my whole body sighs with noticeable relief.
God… he’s there. Dad went to the clinic. He’s there. I wonder how long he’ll have to stay and what’s happening.
“Did he go in on Monday?”
“He went last night.”
“How long is he going to be there?”
“Three weeks.”
Jesus… that’s longer than last time. The last time was just ten days followed up with outpatient care.
“When can I talk to him?” Tears threaten to fall when I think of Dad alone at the clinic. He’s had to go in for inpatient care three times. This is the fourth. It seems like the most serious as well. I’ve been with him every time—this will be the first that I won’t be.
I’m grateful when Vincent’s face softens and I see some element of compassion enter his eyes.
“Your father is in rehab and needs to focus on getting better. That’s all you need to know right now. I will let you know when you can speak to him.”
“Will you?” I challenge.
“We are not talking about this anymore.” He smiles.
I hate that he has so much control over me. At least I can take some comfort in knowing that Dad’s safe and is where he needs to be.
So, now I can think of me for a little bit until I have to think of him again.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask.
