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"Yesss," I hiss. "I love you, I love you," I chant, throwing myself into his embrace.
"I know things haven't been easy since we moved here."
Understatement of the century.
"But I promise that everything I'm doing is for you and your safety."
"It's London, Dad. Not Damascus."
"I know, sweetheart." His use of that name makes my entire body jolt as I remember it falling from someone else's lips. Thankfully, he doesn't notice my reaction. "I promise it will get better. I just needed to smooth a few things over with some associates."
"Riiight." I'm used to him being vague as fuck about what he actually does for a living, so I'm not exactly expecting a detailed reason as to why I've been stuck in this place for weeks on end. "It's fine, Dad. I get it." I mean, I don't, but I trust him, so I don't have much choice.
"I thought I could follow you in, make sure you get settled okay."
I narrow my eyes at him. He hasn’t taken me to my first day at a new school since I was thirteen. I'm not sure why he feels the need to now.
"I'll be fine. This is just another day for me."
Regret passes through his features.
"I'm sorry—"
"Don't, Dad. Please. It's just another new school. I've got this."
He doesn't look happy about it, but he accepts it, and after dropping a kiss to my forehead, he stands aside.
"If you need me, call me. Calvin has his phone on him too," he says, referring to our head of security who moved over with us.
"Everything will be fine. I'm sure I can handle the elite teenagers of London."
"I'm sure you can, sweetheart. Have a good day. Angie is going to cook your favorite tonight."
"Great. I'm looking forward to it."
With a smile I don't really feel, I head for the front door.
That all changes when I get a look at what's waiting for me.
My new car.
The sleek lines of my new Porsche 911 brings a genuine smile to my lips and makes my muscles twitch to drop into the driver's seat and see what she's capable of.
She's matte black, just like the one I was forced to leave behind, but she's a newer model, and I can't wait to see the differences.
The purr of the engine and the incredibly soft red leather seats make the drive toward my new school almost enjoyable.
The parking lot is damn near full when I pull up, pointing to the fact that my extra-long detour here was probably just a little too long.
Unlike the school parking lots I'm used to, there are no rust-bucket cars. Instead, it's full of top of the line BMWs, Mercedes, Jaguars, and every other expensive makes and models I can think of—including a few Aston Martins and even a Bentley.
"Well, you're sure not in Kansas anymore, Doukas," I mutter to myself as I kill the engine and look out at the students all dressed the same as I am, loitering around and waiting for the day to start.
With my head held high, I climb from the car, throw my purse over my shoulder, and head for the main doors.
I came here with Dad the other week to get through all the paperwork for my enrollment and make a decision about the subjects I wanted to take, but the place was deserted then, the total opposite to what it is now.
I feel the stares of the other students as I make my way to reception, but I don't return their attention. I just focus on where I need to go. That is, until a tingle races down the left-hand side of my body, and I have no choice but to look to see what caused it.
