I sniff and withdraw my arms from around his neck. “It’s not healthy for the Head of Security to live in a fantasy world.”

“We all need goals to keep us going. Mine might be ambitious, but I find them incredibly motivating. Take Paravel back from Varga. Put King Anson on the throne. Claim the most beautiful woman in the country as my wife.”

I pull a key from my purse and unlock the door. “Goodbye, Jakob.”

He catches me around the waist before I can go inside. “I’ll see you tonight. Be a good girl and stay home today. If you need anything, ask my guards, or call me. I’ll take care of everything.”

“You’ve already done too much. You announced to my family than we’re engaged.”

A smile spreads over his face. “How beautiful you’ll look on our wedding day. I hope you’ll wear a veil. I like the idea of lifting it and kissing my bride.”

I go inside and slam the door closed on his smirking face.

The hall is still and quiet, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. I hold my breath as I head toward the stairs, not looking around because I don’t want to know if there’s anyone in the living room. At the last moment, I can’t control my guilty compulsion and I raise my eyes and glance around.

Dad’s gazing back at me from his armchair in the living room. A newspaper lays forgotten over his lap. His brow is creased with worry and his claw-like hand grips the armrest.

“Dad, I—”

I’m wearing the clothes that I left the house in yesterday and probably have Jakob’s cologne all over me. I’ve never spent a night away from home. Dad was probably awake all night worrying about me.

I can’t face him after what I’ve done. I swallow down the lump in my throat and hurry upstairs.

After a shower and a change of clothes, joggers and a sweater, I sit on the broad window ledge and gaze out into the garden. It clouds over and starts raining again. Drizzle sprinkles the glass, blurring all the tawny leaves.

There’s a knock at my door, and it’s pushed open. Mum pokes her head in. “I thought that was you coming home.”

She comes into the room, switches the light on, and gazes at me, not with anger, but with her brow wrinkled with worry. “Sachelle, what’s going on? You haven’t been yourself for weeks, and now that man keeps coming around. Is he controlling you in some way?”

Yes, he’s controlling me in every way.

But if I tell her that, I’ll have to tell her everything else. I force myself to smile. “Of course not.”

“Then why are you sitting here in the dark like the world is ending?”

The rain patters harder against the glass, and I wrap my arms around my knees. “I’m just thinking. It’s a lot to take in, being engaged.”

Mum comes forward and feels my forehead. Looking for something she can do or fix.

“I’m fine, really.”

“Mr. Rasmussen said you were attacked last night. That a truck tried to run you both down and that’s why you had to spend the night with him. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

Her brow furrows in despair. “But why, darling? Who would want to hurt you?”

Seeing her like this makes a sob rise in my own throat. “Mum, I’m sorry.”

She sits down and puts her arms around me, rubbing circles on my back like I’m a child and I’ve been punished at school for standing up to the bullies who hate me because of my name. “What are you sorry about? I just want to understand.”

When she looks at me like that, she feels like the mum I had growing up, not Duchess Balzac like she’s been lately. It makes me wistful for the time when we had nothing and we were nothing. “I’m not sure what I can tell you. Jakob said not to do anything and that he’s going to handle everything.”

Her lips purse at the sound of his name. “Are you in some sort of trouble? Is it because of Briar?”

I swipe the tears from my face. “None of this is Briar’s fault. I promise I’ll tell you everything when I can. Until then I think I’d better not say anything. Not because Jakob said so, but because I don’t want to cause any trouble, for Dad’s sake.”

Mum opens her mouth like she wants to press me to reveal more, but then she nods. “All right. For Dad’s sake. You’re always thinking of him, sweetheart.”

I wipe my face. It doesn’t feel like it. The last thing I want is to make my father sicker than he is. He’s only fifty-five. It’s not fair that he’s become such a frail man.

“Mr. Rasmussen called me an hour ago to check that you’re safe. He certainly worries about you a lot.”

Tags: Brianna Hale Erotic
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