Possessive Daddy Next Door

We step into a thin hallway. There are cobwebs near the ceiling. The floor is bare wood, scuffed and marked from years of use. There are no decorations, unlike the rest of the house, which is practically stuffed with priceless artifacts. Patricks walks along without slowing, despite the dim lighting. There are bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling, and some of the bulbs are yellowed with age.

“This is a shortcut to the residences,” he says. “It’ll spit us out near the gym, and from there we can take a look at the rooms. There are only a few of them here right now. I can’t remember the last time all the Lofthouse kids were around.”

“Is Delia here?” I ask and immediately regret it.

Patricks doesn’t look back. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with her, but I’d forget about it,” he says.

“I just helped her,” I say.

“The Lofthouse family frowns upon fraternizing with the likes of us.” He glances back over his shoulder. “You get that?”

I smirk at him. He didn’t see the way she looked at me. “I hear you.”

“Good.” He narrows his eyes and walks forward again. We pass doors without any markings on them, simple and unadorned, the passageway twisting and turning. I have no clue how he can remember where the hell we are, but we stop in front of a door and step through.

Sure enough, we’re out in front of the gym. It’s dark and empty. He shuts the door behind us and brushes his hands off like they’re covered in dust.

“This way,” he says but stops as someone turns down the hallway.

She’s a pretty girl, young, with long hair and bright green eyes. For a second, I think it’s Delia, but I realize it’s not her a second later. They look similar, definitely sisters, but they’re not the same.

“Oh, hello,” the girl says.

“Hello, Lora,” Patricks says, straightening. “I’m giving the new security officer a tour. I hope we didn’t bother you.”

“Not at all.” She extends her hand. “Lovely to meet you. I’m Lora Lofthouse.”

“Max,” I say.

“A pleasure.” She grins and eyes me for a second. “You’re the handsome man that saved Delia, huh?”

I laugh and glance at Patricks. He looks horrified and pissed as hell.

“That’s me,” I confirm. “Although I’d describe myself as rugged and charming.”

“Oh, she said a lot more than that.” Lora laughs and winks at me.

“Where is your sister?” I ask. “I wanted to thank her again.”

“She’s around. I’m sure she’ll find you.” She waves to Patricks. “Be nice to him, okay? I can tell you already want to throw him out.”

“I just… we’re not supposed to be…”

She waves a hand at him again. “Relax, Patricks.” She looks back at me and smiles. “It’s nice to have a new face around here. Anyway, nice to meet you, we’ll talk more soon.”

She heads off down the hallway. Patricks watches her go before letting out a breath. He looks at me and scowls. “What was all that about?” he barks.

“I helped Delia when she hurt her ankle,” I say. “How’s that doing anything wrong?”

“Fine,” he says. “What did I tell you about getting involved?”

“Whatever you say.” I smile at him and shrug. “I don’t mind either way.”

Which, of course, is a total fucking lie.

We go through the rest of the tour. Patricks is in a foul mood, but it doesn’t bother me. I meet the kitchen staff, the wait staff, the maids and the landscapers. I briefly meet Mr. Lofthouse, who seems like a nice enough man, and I meet an uncle from a distance, although I don’t catch his name and he doesn’t seem interested in giving it.

When the tour’s finally over, we stand in the main living room off toward the corner. Patricks hands me a folder. “The floorplans are in there,” he says. “Study them, memorize them, and give them back to me. Nobody can keep those.”

“Got it.” I tuck it under my arm.

“And listen—”

Before he can start in on me again, I hear my name called. I look over his shoulder and Delia’s standing across the room, smiling and waving to me.

“Excuse me,” I say. “I’m being summoned.”

“Careful,” Patricks growls as I walk past him.

Poor guy. I can’t be angry with him. He’s very protective of this family and I get the sense that he’s been with them for a while. Maybe even been through some things. I bet he’s jealous that I have a connection with one of the daughters, or maybe he’s just overprotective, I can’t really tell. But I’m not getting bogged down in whatever little fantasy world he lives in. The man might be my boss, but I think the real person I answer to is smiling at me right now.

She looks gorgeous. Her hair’s down, thick and dark with loose curls. Her eyes are a bright, shining green, and her smile makes me smile right back. She’s wearing dark jeans and a striped top just low enough to show off a hint of her gorgeous, perky breasts, with a light blue denim shirt over top and open in the front. She somehow makes it look both casual and incredibly put together.