Chapter One
She was a beast.
A monster.
Disgusting.
A vile living thing.
Ugly.
Ugly. Petra Hall smiled as she thought about the four-letter word. Out of all the things she’d been called in her life, ugly was the nicest, which was weird considering the insult. She wondered what Drake Dome thought of her, like really thought. Not that her thoughts should ever wander to the man within her employ.
He’d stayed on, playing the role of bodyguard like she’d asked. Every morning, he checked the perimeter, and each night, he ate dinner with her. So far, she hadn’t caught him looking at her as if she was some kind of monster.
Over five years ago, her life had changed forever.
Stepping away from her computer, she went to the bathroom, and without wincing at the sight of herself, she stared at her face. One eye was gone, that had been taken during the attack. She only had vision in one now, but her other eye was closed shut, like it never existed. Just one blue eye staring right back at her. Another scar ran from her forehead down past the closed eye and across her cheek. There was still pinched skin from the blade being pushed in. He hadn’t killed her by ramming the blade into her face. No, he’d taken his sweet time hurting her, carving down to her neck, teasing her over the artery.
When she had first recovered, her face had been a mess. Now though, the scars weren’t as red or severe. She no longer hated the way she looked. Sure, she had lovely blonde hair. The kind that some women got out of a bottle. Not her; she’d been born with really light-blonde hair, almost white. Her mother had similar coloration, or at least she did before she passed.
She didn’t want to think of her mother’s passing.
Her cell phone buzzed. Reaching out, she picked it up to see Drake calling. “Hello.”
“Lunch is ready.” He didn’t say anything else, simply hung up.
Her head of security also liked to cook for her. She didn’t need him. In the past four years, she’d gone through twenty different security guards. Her house was locked up tighter than any bank. She had seen to it, at least after her attack, and she never put her life at risk again. The guard was just an added touch. If someone were to break in again, she wanted to be able to scream for help.
After splashing some water onto her face, she dried it, and leaving her computer open, made her way toward the dining room.
Drake always served her meals there. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, even super, he seemed to know whenever she was hungry. She wasn’t going to judge because she got fed out of it.
With her hands at her sides, she took several deep breaths.
Most of the previous guards wouldn’t even look her in the face, but Drake? He looked at her, and there were a few times she was sure he was checking her out, but that had to be a lie.
It had to be.
There was no way anyone would ever want her. She was ugly. Horrible.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she stepped into the dining room to find Drake already sitting beside her chair. He always sat on the side where she couldn’t see, making her turn toward him, so he’d see all of her face.
Tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, she went to her seat.
“The border is all clear. No breaks within the perimeter.”
“That’s good. Not even wild wolves or anything?” Sitting with him made her nervous.
“You know your fences are locked tight. I’ve checked the feeds as well. You’ve got a package that came for you.” He grabbed a brown box and handed it to her. “I checked. It looks like a couple of books.”
He was always so thorough.
She took the box from him, glancing through the paperwork. It was just a couple of books she’d ordered, but right now, it gave her something to do rather than look up at him.
“How was your morning?” he asked.
This was what confused her.
He was so thorough as the bodyguard, keeping her safe. Then there was this, the man, that made her even more confused.
“I don’t think you should ask me that question.”
“I ask you it all the time. I don’t see why this is any different.” He took a bite of his sandwich. Cheese and pickle. It was his favorite.
She hated pickles but he always had it. For her, a simple salad was nice. Lettuce, tomato, a few slices of cucumber, and some onion. She loved raw onion. Taking a bite, she chewed her food, wondering if she should count to a hundred before swallowing.
“It’s been good.”
“You don’t have to worry about small talk, Petra,” he said.
She had tried to get him to call her Ms. Hall, but it hadn’t stuck. It kind of reminded her of her mother before she passed.