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“You’ll be staying here,” I inform her. My voice doesn’t allow room for argument.
Of course, she tries anyway. “But Willow?” she immediately asks, spinning to face me with fear in her eyes. “I need to be near?—”
I hold a hand up to stop whatever panic attack is about to ensue. “Willow will be fine, and right next door.” I point to a door in the wall next to the lounge area. “That goes right into her playroom.” Or really, whatwillbe her playroom, once Bambi stocks up.
Clara visibly sags with relief and clasps a hand to her chest. “Oh. Wow.” She gives herself a little shake. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I assumed.”
Oh, the irony.It makes me smirk and agree with her just a little bit. “That a wealthy and powerful man you’ve only just met might turn you into his prisoner?”
She blushes brightly. “Well, I mean…”
I chuckle, albeit darkly. It’s not like the idea didn’t flash through my mind on the way here. “If I wanted to do that, we’d be inmyroom.”
Clara blanches.
I wave a hand and roll my eyes. “Relax. My room is on the other side of the house. This whole wing is just for you and your daughter, with Bambi nearby in case you need anything. There are call buttons under that panel over there, and the red button is to summon security. There’s no cameras in any of the bedrooms, but there are in the hall. Just so you know.”
It’s not a complete lie. There really aren’t any cameras in the bedrooms.
Yet.
I need to call my guy and get at least one installed inside Clara’s room. There’s no telling what she’ll get up to, and I’m not taking any chances with her.
The kid, though… she needs the privacy. I’ll make sure to increase security around the windows and doors, but otherwise, I’ve got no beef with a five-year-old.
It’s her mother who has sins to pay for.
Clara runs a hand through her hair as she looks around her new room. “I… Shit, I don’t have any clothes.”
“We’ll buy you some.”
“My toothbrush?—”
“Add it to the list.”
She looks at me again, this time with eyes narrowed. “Why are you doing this?”
I sigh. That is the exact same question I’ve been wanting to ask her for years. But I know what she means, and I understand why she’s asking. On the surface, this is all so random and unexpected.
Even deep beneath the surface, this is all random and unexpected.
So instead of answering, I open the door and gesture to the hall. “Let’s go find your daughter. I’m pretty sure she’s about to cannonball into one of my fountains.”
Clara looks ready to apologize, but then she sees the humor in my eyes. I can’t help it, and it’s frustrating the fuck out of me. I’m supposed to be angry, or determined, or something devoid of happiness.
But every time she’s near, I feel a surge of warmth that won’t tamp the fuck down.
We walk through the house in search of Bambi and the kid. I’d give a more formal tour, but there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need to make a dozen calls and set up half as many appointments. Time is ticking by every second I waste playing host to my Very Important Guests.
We find Bambi and Willow devouring towers of ice cream sundaes, giggling and playing in the mounds of whipped cream with their tiny spoons. It’s very clear by the sheer amount of scoops, sprinkles, and sugar that I’m going to have to have a talk with my assistant about small children and cavities.
A sidelong glance at Clara tells me to calm down, at least for now—she looks like she’s about to cry with joy.
Right.For a moment, I forgot: they probably don’t even have the money for sugar, let alone ice cream.
So I ignore the dental nightmare and loft a brow at my giggling assistant. “Mind keeping these two company? I have a last-minute meeting I need to go take care of.”
Bambi dabs her mouth with a napkin and switches back to her professional side again. “Yeah. No problem.” She squints at me; it’s not normal for me to attend meetings without her. “Everything okay?”
