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I let out a frustrated sigh. “Papa, he yanks me around like I’m some puppet. He never asks permission and just does as he pleases. It’s infuriating.”
Instead of taking my side, Papa says, “It’s for your safety,mon amour.”
My chest bubbles with exasperation. “Does he even have bodyguarding experience?”
Papa lets out a sigh. “No, but he’s the best protection for you.”
Shock ripples over me. “He’s never been a bodyguard?”
My father shakes his head. “No, he’s doing me a favor by protecting you, so try to cut him some slack.”
Jesus.
“I need him to cut me some slack,” I argue. “I can’t live like this. I understand I need protection, but I also need to be able to go on with my life while you deal with the threat.”
“This matter is going to require patience from everyone,” Papa says as if he’s giving one of his political speeches.
“I’ve tried,” I almost cry because it doesn’t look like the matter will be resolved.
My father locks eyes with Max. “Is there anything you can do to make this easier for Camille?”
Max crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “This is the only way I can guarantee to keep her alive. I have to have full control over every situation.”
God help me.
I turn my frustrated gaze on him. “By being a freaking robot? By not allowing me any privacy?”
Max’s intense eyes flick to mine, and once again, I get a glimpse of the danger hiding in the shadows.
“What did you do before you agreed to protect me?”
Papa rises from his chair, and not giving Max a chance to answer, he says, “I’m sure we can find a way to make this thing work between the two of you.” My father looks at me, then asks, “What would make this easier for you?”
I gesture at Max again. “Some emotion from him would be great. I’m not even sure he knows how to smile.”
Max lets out a bored-sounding sigh when Papa gives him a pleading look.
“I’ll try,” Max mutter. “I can’t promise anything.”
“I know this must be an unusual case for you, Mr. Levin, but I appreciate any effort you can make to set my daughter at ease.”
“Jesus, I’m just asking for some human interaction, not for him to wait on my every need,” I mutter, not understanding why my father is treating Max differently from his other employees.
Papa pins me with a serious look. “Mr. Levin is doing me a favor, Camille. He can walk at any moment, and then we’ll be in serious trouble. You need to realize he’s all that stands between you and the person who wants to kill you.”
My father grabs photos from his desk and holds them out to Max. “I just received these.”
I move closer to Max and see that the prints are all of me. When I was out to take photos. When I attended the charity event last week. There’s even one of me when I took the short walk with Max a few days ago.
The same sentence is printed in bold, red letters on every photo.
I could’ve killed her.
Resign from politics.
Max takes a closer look at one of the photos, then holds it out to my father. “There’s a partial image of whoever stalked her reflected in the Renault. Send it to St. Monarch’s so they can track the person.”
Papa’s eyes widen, and he quickly takes the photograph from Max, also inspecting it. “I didn’t even see the reflection. I’ll send it to St. Monarch’s immediately.”
