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I won’t let another human being determine my future. Not again. I will find a way out of here.
Or die trying.
fourteen
Damian
It’s been over a month since we arrived at the Parrish. Dad’s been doing better. He’s even reading again. The staff have said he’s finally picked back up with his daily routine.
Sasha’s still in the Hamlet planning Paisley’s party with Paige, but we’ve spoken on the phone. She feels like my visit has been good for Dad. Even with Aunt Sasha’s and my entire staff’s blessing to return to New York, I feel a tug of responsibility as his only blood relative to stay.
But I need to get back to the Village.
I’ve heard the brothers say a week in our world is like a month in the normal one. A lot can happen in the span of the month that I’ve been here at the Parrish. I’ve got fifteen new recruits waiting for me back at the Village. They know nothing about self-defense or saving themselves without a weapon.
My stomach turns at the thought of one of our men getting caught in an alley, no way to protect themselves.
I’ve never been away from my training center for more than three days. I’m a control freak when it comes to my work, a firm believer that no one can do my job as well as me. Leaving someone at my post to fill in for me has had me on edge, but now that we’ve passed the four-week mark, I’m losing my mind.
There’s no way my fill-in, Michelangelo, a man who used to prep body doubles for Hollywood, has training techniques as good as mine.
It’s time to go home.
I’ve heard the brothers call me control freak behind my back. They may have thought I was difficult before, but if I don’t get back ASAP, I’m going to be unbearable. Not to mention the red flags that could be raised by CityScoop if their journalist doesn’t return to work.
Soon after we arrived, I had Lindy call her boss and read a statement I’d carefully crafted. Telling Mike she’d befriended some Beauties at the club, one being an old roommate of hers from her junior year at college and that she’d accepted a last-minute invite to a trip to the Bahamas with them.
That she’s getting great intel.
That part made me laugh.
Mike, of course, was over the moon.
His voice was full of excitement for breaking the Bachman wall. Just hearing the pleasure in his voice made me want to give him a good throat punch. He told Lindy to take her time and check in at the end of the week. Which was about a month ago, give or take.
Time to head back to the city.
I can’t wait for Lindy to tell poor Mike that she signed an NDA with us, locking her lips up over anything that may have happened on her “trip.” To be a fly on the wall, to see his face when she tells him that all their work, their months of preparation, were all for nothing.
I hope he fires her.
It’ll make telling her she’s quitting that much easier.
I don’t have an official plan for her yet. She could become an employee. Get vetted as a “Bachman friendly.” It could possibly keep her safe without having to marry me. She’s bright, confident, funny, without being commanding. Her manners are second to none. She’s young, unattached, has no strong connections to friends or family that we can find. She fits the classic profile of an amazing employee for us.
Or I can make her my wife. It’s a decision that would need to be made with a clear head, not one born from an obsession. I don’t trust myself to know the difference, so it’s for the best we go with the “making her an employee” plan.
My staff are in my rooms, packing my bags. We’ll have one last dinner here tonight, then board the jet tomorrow morning to head back. I’ve not yet told her we’re leaving. I’ll tell her over steaks and wine tonight.
Our last meal together before I turn her over to Bachman Enterprises.
I’ll miss having her here, in my home, under lock and key.
The power, the control, holding the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen against her will. I still think of the moment I first saw her picture. The photo attached to her profile that the family showed me. The sweet smile with the hint of sadness behind those big brown eyes. I couldn’t believe my luck when she boarded my jet when she did.
I love our dinners together. I stand there in the dining room, my hand in the pocket of my suit pants, my face a mask of calm as I wait to see what she’ll look like each evening. What dress she’ll be in, how they’ve done her hair that night. Which necklace they’ve chosen for her from the family’s collection.
Every night, she looks stunning.
