Page 13 of Daddy's Obsession


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“Mon Dieu!” the housekeeper cries. She says something in French, speaking to the little girl in what can only be described as a panic. “Monsieur Rochefort!” she cries over her shoulder.

I hear him before I see him.

Heavy footsteps thud up the creaky wooden steps. Gabriel’s hulking frame comes into view like a charging bull. Curious and a bit alarmed, I leave the confines of the bedroom and step out into the hall. I find him and Penelope outside a door, so I assume little Odette must be on the other side.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“She wash hands,” Penelope says, her English broken and heavily accented. “Too slippery for unlock.”

“Back up,” Gabriel says. “Going to kick it open.”

He rears back like he’s really going to shove his heel through the wood, but I quickly step in front of him, one hand on his chest.

“Would you relax, Rambo? You might hurt Odette if you start bashing things in. Not to mention ruin a perfectly good door.”

“I have to get my daughter out.”

I smirk. “Lucky for you, there isn’t a lock I can’t crack. I’ll be right back.”

After returning to the bedroom, I quickly snatch up my tools and return to the door, easily selecting one of my thinner picks. This is a standard privacy doorknob with a center pin hole. I crouch down, shove the pick in and feel around, applying just enough pressure to make out the outline of the latch mechanism. This process is second nature to me, a cake walk. I have the door open in less than five seconds, the knob twisting free of the frame with a satisfying rush of air.

Odette rushes out, throwing her arms around my neck as she sniffles against my shoulder. I laugh softly, rubbing small circles against her back.

“There, there, sweetie,” I coo. “Everything’s okay now.”

She mumbles something I don’t understand, but I’m more aware of the way Gabriel bristles behind me. Penelope shoots Gabriel a bewildered look, but his eyes remain squarely on me. His expression is unreadable, so I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or appreciative, though the latter seems far less likely.

“What did she say?” I ask him.

“She said she was scared,” he translates. I don’t know what to make of his tone.

I return my attention to Odette with a gentle smile. She has her father’s eyes. “There’s nothing to be scared about. Here, let me show you what to do next time.” I take her hand and show her the lock, pointing while speaking slow enough for Gabriel to translate. “Next time, make sure your hands are nice and dry. All you have to do is pinch —like this— and twist.”

Odette dries her little eyes with the backs of her hands and puts on a grateful smile. “Merci,” she says softly.

“Oh, Monsieur Rochefort, it is miracle,” Penelope whispers behind me.

I twist slightly where I’m kneeling to look at them. “What are you talking about?”

“She does not speak,” the woman continues. “Too ‘ard for ‘er since accident—”

“Arrêt,” Gabriel snaps.Stop.

Penelope promptly shuts her mouth.

“Accident?” I echo. “What accident?”

“You ask too many questions,” he grumbles. He speaks to Penelope quickly, who promptly nods and ushers Odette downstairs.

The moment we’re alone, I cross my arms and ask, “What’s your problem?”

“You. You are my problem.”

I work my jaw, a flicker of annoyance licking at the back of my neck. “Fine. I’ll pack my things and leave. I’m sorry to have been such a massive inconvenience.”

“You are not going anywhere.”

“Which is it,Pierre?” I spit out his fake name venomously. “You clearly want to get rid of me, so just let me go. It’s really that simple.”

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