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Rafael: Do you want me to come along?
Yes, I want you to come and protect me from the Big Bad Wolf! That’s what I’d like to say. But I’m a grown woman, and my father loves me. He’s not here to hurt me. I can handle him. I repeat this over and over to make sure the universe understands the kind of intervention I might need.
If worse comes to worst, I’ll make a huge scene. He’d love that. This isn’t the UK, where he’s feared. No one’s going to ignore it here. He could drug me, but if his plan is that nefarious, no one will be able to help. They’d just be courting danger. Before I let my wild imaginings scare the bejesus out of me, I reply to Rafael.
Lexie: I don’t need you to come. I was just having a minor anxiety attack.
Rafael: I know a good antidote for anxiety.
I smile, imagining the possibilities.
Lexie: I wish. But he’ll be here any minute.
Rafael: Contact me at the first sign of trouble.
One of the things I appreciate most about Rafael is that he doesn’t bullshit by telling me it’s going to be okay. He knows it’s somewhat precarious—not as precarious as my imagination has made it out to be—but with men like Will Clarke, there are no guarantees.
There’s a knock on the door, and I know it’s Giana, who’s stationed outside the apartment. My stomach churns like it thinks lunch is a bad idea.
“Your father has arrived,” she says sympathetically, as though she can see the worry on my face. “I’ll escort you downstairs.”
I nod and grab my purse. The one Rafael asked Judite Furtado to bring. Somehow it feels like a lifeline to him.
“Sabio and I will be following in case you need anything,” she explains. “Rafael asked me to remind you that while he’s not expecting your call, he’s prepared for it.”
Unlike Rafael’s, her assurances are comforting. I’m an only child, and other than Valentina, who would drop everything to help me, anytime, anywhere, there’s really no one else besides Rafael whom I would trust enough to call—not in a situation like this. No one who would be willing to stand up against Will Clarke.
My father’s driver is waiting in the lobby to escort me to the car. He’s exceedingly polite, but always a bit standoffish.
Giana follows us, and when we get outside, she waits near a black SUV parked behind my father. The windows are tinted, but I’m sure Sabio is driving. I’m not sure exactly how they’d help me, but I’m happy to have them on my side.
I don’t get into the car immediately. While Giana watches, I go around to where my father is seated. He puts down the window.
“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks, even before I can say hello.
My heart clenches at the endearment, but I don’t let it soften too much. I glance at Giana before saying my piece.
“Promise me you’re not here to take me back to London.”
His expression is unreadable, even for me, who’s been studying his tells for years.
“It’s not my intention—but things could change.”
Not good enough.
“I want to have lunch with you, but I won’t get in the car unless I have your word.”
He cocks his brow. “If I wanted to force you onto a plane, I would have done it yesterday or last week. Or I would have my security shove you into the car now. But those are extreme measures. Nothing I know right now concerns me enough to go that route. If it makes you feel any better, I promised your mother that I would act judiciously, and I intend to honor that promise.”
My father is a man who very rarely reneges on his word, but a promise he makes to my mother is sacrosanct.
I nod at Giana so she knows I’m okay, and my father opens the door so I can slide in beside him.
Not one uncomfortable moment passes before he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I rest my head on his shoulder as myriad emotions conspire to turn me into a huge mess.
“Your mum says hello,” he murmurs.
“She didn’t want to make the trip with you?”
