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When we got to the kitchen, I didn’t expect to see Emmie awake and sitting at the counter, picking at some fruit on her plate. Sasha sat by her feet, drawing my attention to her soiled sneakers. Last night, her hair was tangled and dirty. Her clothes were worn, and her face was scared and tired.
She looked as if spending the night in a comfortable bed and taking a hot shower did her some good. Her luscious, black hair was pulled into a high ponytail, revealing the prominent bone structure of her jaw and cheeks. The bruise on her face had a chance to calm down, and it didn’t look as angry as it had a few hours ago. But I imagined it still caused her discomfort. Her olive skin tone was smooth and flawless, proving she didn’t need makeup.
The distraction of her presence became too much when she brought the fork to her mouth and bit into a ripe piece of pineapple. She licked the juice from her bottom lip, mesmerizing me with the quick glimpse of her tongue.
I was no stranger to beautiful women. I surrounded myself with them every night at the club. Most of those women were not afraid to look me in the eyes and let me know exactly what they wanted. What they were willing to let me take from them. They were sophisticated, well-rounded, and money-hungry.
At forty-five, I hadn’t found anyone remarkable enough to settle down with. To make a home with. Not even my daughter’s mother had intrigued me enough to marry her eighteen years ago.
“You’re awake.” When I spoke, her body jolted, causing her to drop her fork on the plate.
“Yes, I, ah… Grace gave me something to eat.” She picked the fork back up with a shaky hand. “I really appreciate it.”
“Just fruit?” I moved closer to her.
“I offered her anything she wanted,” Grace said as she whisked some eggs in a ceramic bowl.
“The fruit is delicious.” Emmie pushed the plate away. “It’s not from a can. I mean, it’s fresh. I don’t… It’s very good.”
It’s fruit.
“If I could get my stuff back, I can get out of your way,” she said. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
“You’re not in my way.” I sat next to her. “Where would you go?”
“Hello, Emmie.” Luke waved to her on his way to the coffee pot. “I’m Luke. We met briefly last night on your way out of the stables.”
“Hello.” After pushing back some hair that had fallen from the worn band that held her ponytail, she rested her hands on her tattered jeans. “Can I have my stuff back?”
“It’s best if I hold on to it until we decide how we’re going to proceed.” I placed my hand on top of hers, because her fidgeting unsettled me. “In the meantime, you can stay here.”
“I can’t stay here.” She glanced over at Luke and Grace who were ensconced in a conversation. “Please.” Once she removed her hands from underneath mine, an agitation stirred within me. “You can’t hold me hostage.”
“You’re free to leave.” Her aversion piqued my interest.
“But you stole my things.”
“The things you left on my property? You know what they say about possession and the law.”
“Are you a lawyer?”
“No.” I laughed. “My brother is, but I try not to involve him in my business.”
“I’m your business?”
You have no idea.
“Daddy.” Cassandra hurried down the stairs, but paused when she spotted Emmie. “Is she the reason you borrowed some of my things last night?”
“Cassandra, this is Emmie,” I said. “She’ll be staying with us. Emmie, this is my daughter Cassandra who should have left for school by now.”
“There’s no school today.” Cassandra focused her attention on Emmie. “You can call me Cassie.”
I looked to Luke for confirmation.
“Teacher meetings today and tomorrow.” He shrugged. “I checked.”
Now that Cassandra had turned eighteen, it was harder to keep her in-line when it came to her senior year. She thought she was an adult. I thought otherwise.
