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England has low-risk all across the board. Today, I’m not up for a challenge, not unless she gives me a fraction of a fucking sign.
Something.
“Little One—”
“No.”
The darkness in me claims that this isn’t over. Although I vow to return to her once I’ve brought down Everhart, I attempt another angle. “I care for you.”
Giving a cracked chuckle, Luxury retorts, “I’ll refrain from responding to that. I’ve harped enough, Vic. I would be remiss not to look out for the next woman whose heart’s shattered by you, so I just had to tell you about yourself.”
I’ve never bloody hung my head in my entire life, but I do now as I leave Luxury’s room. In the past, when my expectations weren’t met, a gun would suffice, or I’d turn my energies to another sure thing. With every step I take down the stairs, I’m a boiling rage of possessive fury. At the corner of my eye, Whitson hurries by. He must’ve snooped. Caught in the filthy act, he huffs and returns my nod as I descend the last step.
“Do you care about my daughter?”
Without hesitation, I grit out, “Yes.”Love isn’t possible, but I fucked up. Botched the entire thing by welcoming the challenge of keeping her safe. Now, I bloody care.
“Where are you going, then?”
“Bollocks, Whitson!” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You should be chuffed to bits that I’m leaving.”
“I’m not happy!”
“No? Have you forgotten our conversation? You told me to leave her be. Moreover, Luxury bloody cursed my very existence.” Not inclined for a further chin-wagging, I stroll toward the door because, contrary to what Luxury believes, I will enter her life at will. I will come and I will go at my own discretion because I was molded in my father’s image.
“Well, are you a man who’ll fight for what he wants?” He keeps pace, scrutinizing me.
“Dad!” Luxury shouts from the top of the stairs. “You told Victor to break things off with me?”
As she hurries down, I clear my throat. Because I’ve hidden more sins than either of them knows, I endeavor to support Dr. Whitson. “Wait, it's—”
“No, Vic.” Luxury cuts me off. Her wrath descends on another. All the anger funneled toward my abandoning her now claws into Whitson. “I'm not a child!”
Whitson’s hands go up in defense. “You deserve better than whathecan give.”
“What’s that?”
Whitson stammers, “You’re my little . . . Luxxie.”
“Dad, you never call meLuxxie. That’s . . . you don’t call me Luxxie.”
“Well, you’re my baby. I said I’d check up on him, but I told myself I didn’t need to. Maybe I’ve made the wrong call in this instance. Your momma always told me unless I’m the Good Lord shining down, I don’t know it all.”
“Yes, Dad, you know everything. Let's go, Victor.” She grabs her purse from the side table. “I’m leaving, now!”
Although Whitson’s unaware of my identity, he’s got instincts. I’m a danger to his precious daughter—dodgier than Tudor Enterprise’s acquisition of a high-risk business. But I’ll wager I can keep her safer than any bloke I anticipated hiring. So, I have a few hours to convince my Little One to accompany me to England. I’ll continue to have Bobby George’s team protect Whitson while I hide my new possession fromGrandmummy.
35
LUXURY
Dad fought me tooth and nail to uproot our lives, to create a fresh start. I came home one night with an empty savings account after placing a down payment on a loan for Urban Gardens. I showed him I’m not a child. Now, here’s to his next scheme.
Here’s to my obsession because I’d rather not readdress my previous notion thatIshared my feelings too soon and point the finger atmyfather. I jab the elevator button, wondering,Had Dad scared Victor off?
Conflicted, I stare after Victor as he closes the door to my home. The adage that “you can’t change a man” becomes an unsolicited rumor slithering through my psyche. But does a person change with time? Or are humans set in our ways?
My aggravated musings evaporate along with all the neurons in my brain as Victor comes to me.
