I had to talk to him before he talked to Dad. I headed toward the guardhouse and Santino crossed my way, already on his way to talk to Dad.
I grabbed his arm. He looked down at my fingers with disdain. “What are you doing?”
“You have to tell my father that you’ll protect me in Paris and that you’re confident you can protect me.”
His eyes reflected his confusion. “What are you talking about?”
I explained the situation to him in a rush. We didn’t have any time to waste.
“So let me get this straight,” he drawled. “You want me to go to France and protect you there, 24/7. For three fucking years.”
“It’s probably only going to be until the summer. Six months tops. Dad won’t allow me to stay abroad for longer.”
Santino gave me a look that suggested I was full of shit. “France. And babysitting you 24/7. That’s a big fat no.”
“You have to say yes.”
“No.”
He shook off my grip and strode away. I hurried after him and caught him in the hallway to Dad’s office. “Do you want Dad to find out about Mrs. Alfera and the kiss we just shared?”
Santino’s eyes flashed with disbelief, then fury. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”
“I wouldn’t have to blackmail you if you’d care about my feelings.”
“I protect your body, not your feelings.”
“Maybe you should do both.”
His jaw flexed. He was majorly pissed. “So let me get this straight, you’ll snitch on me if I don’t tell your daddy that I’ll gladly keep your ass safe in Paris?”
“And that you’re very confident you’ll be able to keep my safe.”
If looks could kill, I’d be ashes. I’d managed to piss Santino off before, but I don’t think I’d ever seen him look this angry.
Santino stalked toward Dad’s office without another word and knocked before I could say more. I quickly hurried away so Dad wouldn’t see me. Now I had to hope that Santino would do as I asked. Any sane person would lie to save their life. But Santino sometimes acted like a lunatic.
I waited anxiously in my room. I didn’t want to barge into Dad’s office too soon. But the longer the wait took, the harder it got to stay put.
A knock sounded and I practically flew toward the door and ripped it open.
Mom stood in the hallway. “Can I come in?”
Her face was unreadable, which made my heart sink. I would probably cry if Paris didn’t work out. It seemed my only chance to live my dreams until marriage would crush them.
I stepped back. “Of course.”
Mom walked in and sank down on my sofa. I sat beside her. “And?” I asked, unable to hold back any longer.
“Your dad had a long conversation with Santino.”
I nodded, ready to burst.
“Santino convinced your dad that he can protect you in Paris, so your father and I will allow you to start your fashion design studies—”
I screeched and threw my arms around Mom’s neck. Mom laughed and patted my arm.
“Let me finish,” she pressed out, obviously struggling to breathe because of my tight hug.
I pulled back, my cheeks flushed.
“We’ll allow you to start but how long you’ll be allowed to stay that depends on the overall safety situation and your behavior. If we feel at any time, that your safety is on the line, you’ll return.”
“Of course, Mom. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Mom searched my eyes. “Your father trusts in Santino’s abilities. He’s a very competent soldier.” She paused. “I, however, don’t know if I like the idea of you alone with him in Paris.”
I swallowed and made a shocked face. “Why? He’s been protecting me for years.”
“Yes, yes,” Mom said slowly. “I’m your mother, but I’m also a woman, and I have eyes.”
I tried to look as unsuspecting as humanly possible.
Mom’s expression made it clear I could drop the act. “That look works on men, not on mothers.”
“Why?”
“Because fathers want to believe their daughters are the epitome of innocence and they’d rather preserve it than see it crumple.”
“I don’t want to do anything bad, Mom. I just want to live a little, is that so bad?”
“If you ask most men in our world, yes. If you ask me, it depends.”
I knew I was treading thin ice confiding in Mom about the freedoms I wanted to experience, but Mom was the most understanding person I knew. And despite our world, she was a feminist and wanted equal chances for women and men.
“I want to have some fun before I’ll have to marry Clifford.”
“I know Clifford is having his fair share of fun and I suspect he won’t hold himself back at the frat parties he’ll attend in the next few years.”
“Definitely not,” I said then told Mom about the strange conversation he and I had a while back.
She touched my arm. “Like Clifford has said, discretion is the key. As long as you use protection, I don’t mind you having fun. With your marriage to Clifford, you have more freedoms than most women in our world…” She trailed off. “Freedom of choice doesn’t mean we should choose every option available to us. Some remain unwise.”