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"Fine," I grunt. "Wait here. I need to put on my heels."
* * *
A friendly uniformeddoorman greets us as he opens the door. I follow Amanda through the luxurious lobby. Our heels click on the marble floor, and I glance up at the giant chandelier dangling from the sky-high ceiling. After Amanda registered our arrival with the concierge, we're granted access to the elevators, and I wait until we're inside the elevator before opening my mouth. "Are you shitting me, Amanda? This is the most luxurious apartment building in Boston. I can't afford this place."
"You want protection," she declares with a shrug. "This place has a twenty-four-hour concierge service and security."
I let out a huff. "Didn't you listen? I can't..." The ping of the elevator lets us know we've arrived at the right floor. Amanda gives me a side glance and cruises out when the doors slide open. As I follow, my throat is getting drier, and the knot in my stomach tightens when she knocks on a massive wooden door. It only takes a minute to open, and my heart hammers when Cole fills the doorway.
"What took you so long?" he asks Amanda. "Get in. I need your help." With that, he turns and walks back.
Amanda shrugs at his weird behavior, and we enter. Cole stands midway in his enormous living room, facing the grand glass panels with an unobstructed outside view. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt. Never did I find a man in a simple white t-shirt sexy. But I just found an exception to the rule.
"Please, I need you to talk to a fifteen-year-old who has locked herself in her bedroom." As he rambles, he turns, and when he spots me, he launches his next question. "What the hell are you doing here?"
His impassioned attitude and spitting voice have an instant effect on me, but just as I want to react, Amanda cuts in and speaks, "Why do you have a teenager in your house?"
He runs his fingers through his messy hair, and I notice his beard is longer than normal and enhances his rough exterior.
A hard, high-pitched angry yell fills the air, and everyone's head turns to the right. "These are the wrong ones!"
A box flies, and when it lands on the ground, its contents spilling over the floor. Amanda and I zoom in on the tampons rolling through the living room. My eyes fly to Cole, whose brows draw closer together. Amanda laughs as she picks up a torpedo-shaped cotton item and holds it up.
"Who is she?"
Cole rubs the nape of his neck. "My daughter."
"What?" Amanda's voice shrieks.
"I’ll explain later." He runs his hands another time through his hair.
Daughter?Through the questions that form in my head, I ask the one that matters now. "Where is she?"
He surveys me for a few seconds. "Straight ahead, turn left into the hall. It's the third door on your right."
"And her name?"
"Samantha," he adds with defeat.
I make my way to the hallway he referred to, and I chuckle when I catch Amanda saying, "Oh, don't worry. Alisha will handle her just right. Why don't you make me a cup of coffee and tell me how you've become a father of a fifteen-year-old girl?"
He lets out a sigh, and they walk another way. I keep walking until I've arrived at the door he mentioned and knock. As I wait, I rummage through my bag and pull out two items.
"Samantha?" I call in a calm voice. "Are you okay?"
A few moments later, the door opens, and two heavenly blue eyes peek through the crack.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Alisha, and I thought you might need these," I say, holding up my hand.
Her eyes lower, and when she sees what I'm carrying, she walks back while leaving the door open. I enter and find the young girl standing in the middle with her arms crossed in front of her, and her head is downwards. I hold out the chocolates and the menstrual warriors.
"Thank you," she murmurs politely, while taking them from me. My lips curl into a soft smile.
"No problem, girls stick together. Especially during their periods."
A faint smile surfaces when I walk further into the sizable bedroom. The walls, bed linens, and ceiling are white, and the only color in the space is greyish carpet. This is not what I’d call a girl’s room. She walks past me, sits on her bed, and places her hands in front of her face.
