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Sure enough, the car and the driver are waiting for me outside. The ride to my dad’s mansion is quiet. I sit there, watching the streets pass through my window, wondering what my dad has in store for me this time.
“There she is.” He practically sings his welcome to me as I walk in. “I should have named you Angelina, for you are an angel. My beautiful daughter. Come.”
There is always a tone of cordiality in my father’s words, but when there is no warmth, I know he is all business and ice cold. Flanked by two men whom I’ve never met before, I follow my dad to his den, which is decorated in a scheme of brass, leather, and polished wood. He has a cross on the wall, a picture of his family on his desk, and a gun in
4
Princess and the Bodyguards
his drawer. That sums up my dad pretty good. He kisses me on the cheek.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Sit.
Then he looks to the nameless, twenty-something lackeys who drove me here.
“Leave us,” he directs them.
He waits until he hears the door close.
“So,” he begins. “You look well.”
“Papa.” I smile. “You just saw me last week.”
“Can’t a father take comfort in his only daughter’s good
health?” he asks.
“Yes, Papa,” I say in my best ‘daughter’ voice.
“So,” he says. “I want you to take a little vacation, a little
leave of absence if you will, just for a little while.”
My eyes fly open.
“When, please?” I ask, trying my best to remember my
manners.
“Now,” he says with a nod.
“I have a class I’m taking at NYU,” I say, knowing it
was for nothing. “But I guess I can take it again in the fall.”
“For your graduate degree thing, right?” he asks.
“It’s not important,” I say, bowing my head.
It is just a coveted program that only a few people make
it into. Now I have to leave without giving word or notice when another student can slip in and take my spot.
“I guess there’s no sense in asking if I could email my professors?” I ask.
He shakes his head no.
“No sense at all. There will be other classes,” he says in a hushed tone. “So, the gentlemen who picked you up, polite? Respectful?”
