Page 8 of Restrain Me


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Throwing a tantrum would be childish and stupid. I’m not happy about any of this, but my life is in danger, so I’ll just have to find a way to adapt.

My father is a domineering man. In a good way, of course. He’s overprotective and insists on having complete control of my life.

Sometimes it becomes too much, and I feel suffocated, but I know he does it because he loves me.

Speaking about domineering…

My eyes flit back to Max, who’s enjoying his meal. I watch his jaw clench while he chews, and I feel slightly startled when I find it attractive.

I’ve never found the way a person eats attractive before.

Picking up my utensils again, I eat some of my vegetables while contemplating the massive change that’s been made in my life.

Jesus, this is insane and frustrating.

Having a person around me, twenty-four-seven, is going to be trying as hell. I understand it’s for my safety, and no amount of arguing will stop my father from doing everything in his power to protect me.

Besides, many people have bodyguards. Just like them, I’ll find a way to cope.

Chapter 3

Cami

I’m not going to lie. I feel cheated out of a peaceful lunch with Papa. With his busy schedule, the lunches we have twice a month are the only time we have to catch up.

The atmosphere was tense, and I could see Papa’s thoughts were miles away.

Carrying a bag filled with containers of Philippe’s cooking, I walk to my Bugatti. I prefer a smaller car, but everything I have is to keep up appearances. Maurice DuBois’ daughter has to have the best of everything.

I know I’m lucky, but sometimes I crave a simple life.

I climb into the vehicle, and setting the bag on the passenger seat, I glance into the rearview mirror and see Max getting into an SUV with tinted windows.

Other socialites would throw a fit if they were in my shoes. Then again, they’d probably be over the moon to have such an attractive man guarding them. They’d flirt with him.

I shake my head as I start the engine.

I’m not happy to have a bodyguard, but I won’t make a scene. It would be pointless and a waste of time.

Steering the Bugatti away from the mansion, I head toward my penthouse near the Arc de Triomphe in the heart of Paris. I seldom invite people into my sanctuary.

It’s the only place where I can walk around braless and wear sweatpants. Where I can binge-watch a show while eating my fill of whatever snacks I feel like.

Ugh.

Now Max will be staying with me.

I groan because I’ll have to wear a bra all the time, and there goes my quiet afternoon. I was planning to frame the photos I took last week.

Everyone who thinks they know me assumes my hobbies consist of shopping, eating, and sleeping. Not that I don’t like those things. I do. Very much.

But I also love taking photos. Mainly of random people, structures, and basically anything that draws my attention. There was a time when I thought I could become a professional photographer, but I gave up on the idea when I realized there was no getting past Papa. Over his dead body, will he allow me to work.

Now photography is just something I do for my own enjoyment.

Turning into the parking area for my building, I stop at the guard house and smile at the guard on duty. “The SUV is with me. Let him in.”

The boom lifts, and I steer my Bugatti toward my dedicated parking space while Max gives his details to the guard. I grab my bag of food, and climbing out, I watch as Max pulls the SUV into the other parking space allocated for my penthouse.

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