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The awkward moment between us remained. I had no idea what to say to him so I concentrated instead on stroking the dog, wishing the butterflies in my stomach wouldn’t be so ferocious.
“She likes you,” he said almost in passing.
“The fact she obviously likes you means she’s not much of a judge of character.” There I went again, saying something vile and mean to a man who didn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry. That was rude and very wrong.”
“Not wrong at all, doll. Your assessment of me is perfect. I am a bad man, but hopefully, I’ll be able to keep you alive long enough to see your twenty-fifth birthday. For tonight, you’re not going outside. I need to check the security systems in the house, and I can’t do that completely until daylight. Are we clear?”
“Sure.”
“Good. I have several phone calls to make. Enjoy your evening.”
With that, he walked out, leaving me with a shiver from his icy demeanor and the warmth of his beautiful, furry dog.
I really was his prisoner. What I wondered was for how long.
CHAPTER 13
Francois
Damn it.
The two words reverberated in my mind as I walked out of the living room, doing what I could to keep from turning back. I hadn’t planned on shutting down completely until I’d noticed what she’d been looking at on the laptop.
I’d been impressed at her tenacity in learning more about me but the fact she’d bookmarked several of the articles written about my family, including the one on my father’s arrest was disturbing. I couldn’t erase what Arman had suggested, that she was more directly involved. That troubled me almost as much as anything. Would she sell her soul? That didn’t seem like her in the least.
While I wasn’t ready to buy his theory just yet, I was glad Rocco had texted me that he’d learned more about her life in LA. I headed into her father’s office, which I planned on using to set up the additional surveillance cameras. Maybe I was being fartoo cautious, but the entire situation unnerved me more than I wanted to admit even to myself.
Feeling out of control was unacceptable on every level but there was no way of snapping my fingers and having my soldiers handle the situation. There was no one yet to drive my fist into for hours until he finally gave up the ghost.
And that’s what it felt like it was, a ghost remaining in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. There I went again, feeling out of control. That usually pushed me into doing very bad things including taking out my anger through violence. That didn’t bode well given I was acting as a bodyguard.
I strode straight to Brandon’s bar, yanking a tumbler into my hand. Two ice cubes. I filled the glass with bourbon, my drink of choice when I was angry or perplexed. I pounded down half of the smooth liquor before moving toward the set of doors, glaring out at the darkening sky. The darkness had always been something I’d loved, the nighttime freeing. Right now, I couldn’t stand the cloak of shadows. My instinct continued to bark at me that my entire family was being watched, scrutinized. I couldn’t shake it.
The drink tasted far too good, so much so I allowed my mind to shift to how vulnerable Delany had seemed on the couch. She was wearing a little sundress, her hair once again in a ponytail. It had been impossible not to notice her aroused nipples or the way her voice had seemed strained, the lingering gaze that had been full of heat. I threw back more of the alcohol, returning to the bar for a refill. Drinking I didn’t need but it was the only thing that would calm both the rage and the hunger.
Or so I fucking hoped.
The action completed, I grabbed my phone. Rocco answered on the first ring.
“What did you find?” I barked immediately, taking another swallow of the liquid libation.
“Well, the girl has done well for herself. She managed to parlay her earnings into some hefty investments, including keeping some of her funds liquid, but not enough to indicate a lavish lifestyle.”
I leaned against Brandon’s credenza, glancing toward the door. “Her father taught her that since he came from a very poor family. How much is her net worth?”
“Try three million dollars.”
I choked. She was twenty-four years old and had that kind of money. “Jesus Christ. Three million. Good for her.”
“Don’t worry, boss. No large recent deposits, unless you consider ten thousand plus from her modeling gigs large.”
“So she’s a smart girl with savvy business knowledge. What else?”
“Believe it or not, she drives an older Chevy Cruise, lives in a modest apartment. She has a good reputation, not as a party girl. From everything I can tell, she’s popular and a hard worker. Her agent, Quince, however, is a real piece of work. The man had been up on sexual harassment charges not once but twice, neither time sticking.”
“Why the fuck is such a seemingly intelligent woman like Delaney bothering with him then?”
“Maybe because he’s the best in the business and his family has some powerful friends in Hollywood.”
