Page 32 of Wilde About You

I raised a brow at Ingrid. "Think my point has been made," I said.

"Like I said, they show it in an awkward way."

I laughed and hugged her. "Delicious sandwich and I'm so glad you were the first person to greet me at the door. It was the fortification I needed to walk into the lion's den or, in this case, study."

Dad had the nerve to be back on the phone just seconds after ordering me into his study for a meeting. He waved briskly for me to sit in one of his tall leather chairs. They'd cost a fortune and were easily the most uncomfortable chairs in the world. He finished his call as abruptly as he'd waved me over.

"We'll wait for your mother," he said coldly and sat at his desk. He began searching through papers as if he was the principal waiting for my parents so he could throw the book at me.

"Hello, Dad, good to see you, too." It had been at least five months since I'd seen either parent. It was quite a contrast to the warm greeting Ingrid gave me.

"Don't be smart with me, young lady. You've gotten yourself into something dangerous. The police have the note, but it was very threatening and it was addressed to you. And how the hell did your acquaintances or enemies or God knows who find our address?"

"I thought we were waiting for Mom." Not that she would provide any kind of buffer, but I needed a moment to gird my loins against the onslaught that was coming my way.

Mom came in just then. "I'm sorry I'm late, dear. I don't think this painter is doing a good job. I'm going to cancel their contract after this." She reached over and patted me on the top of the head, like someone might do for their dog. Her sweet perfume surrounded me. I never liked it. I enjoyed Ingrid's cinnamon tea scent much more. "Hello, Sadie. Good to see you. You look thin, and what is with the white hair?"

She sat down in the other uncomfortable chair and crossed her legs primly. I was sure it was to let me know that my casual feet on the ground, knees slightly parted wasn't ladylike. The truth was Dad had already pushed all the air out of my sails, and I was slumping out of habit.

"Good to see you, Mom." The woman had had more work done on her face. Soon her brows would be at her hairline. She was naturally very beautiful and was aging like any well-kept rich woman, but she still felt the need to chase away the age lines and wrinkles. I intended to age gracefully, like a raisin in the sun, to let everyone know I was old, that I'd fucking made it to oldness.

Dad rested his forearms on the desk in front of him. "Please explain why we are receiving threatening notes that look like something a kidnapper or murderer might put together."

"It's not a kidnapper or murderer. I snapped a photo—remember that's my profession—and the content of the picture could be considered scandalous and newsworthy." I decided the last adjective gave me more clout as a professional, but Dad wasn't impressed.

"Well, I will need that photo and the negative right now. I want to hand them over to the police, so they can trace this note to the perpetrator. I assume the person in the photo is the culprit."

I had to hold back a smile at his old-fashioned police movie terminology. "You can't have either. They are not here. They're somewhere secure. I know who sent the note. I'll take care of it. You don't need to get the police involved."

"But sweetheart, if you're in danger," Mom started but was interrupted by Dad smacking his hand down on the desk. A few papers fluttered to the floor from the impact.

"I need those on my desk tomorrow, Sadie. End of discussion."

"Right, so we'll just do whatever you decide because you are the king of the house, and my career and life don't matter."

Dad huffed loudly. "You're being dramatic. One photo can't be that important." He pulled out a cigar. He loved pointing out how insignificant my life and career were.

"Dear, not now. We're having a family discussion, and you know both Sadie and I hate the smell of cigars." I couldn't believe she'd actually spoken up to let him know she disapproved. He put the cigar down but not without grumbling something angrily under his breath. Ten years ago, my mom never would have asked him not to light up, and he would have laughed in her face if she had. Maybe my parents were finally entering the twenty-first century. Although he was still doing a crackerjack job at being the controlling, demanding patriarch.

"If we're through with this discussion, I'd like to go up and take a bath," I said.

"As long as we're clear about my expectations," Dad said.

"Yes, sir. Your expectations must always be met." I got up, and Mom took my hand.

She smiled up at me as if we'd just finished a pleasant, warm conversation. "I'll have Ingrid make your favorite, macaroni and cheese."

Macaroni and cheese sounded like overkill after the grilled cheese, but Mom seemed so pleased with herself for remembering "my favorite," I nodded and kissed her on the cheek. I headed upstairs to my bedroom. It still contained a lot of my things, including a collection of vintage cameras and the stuffed animals I collected as a kid, but half of it had been turned into a storage area where rolling racks of my mom's dresses and gowns sat waiting to never be worn again like most of her clothes.

I turned on the tub and poured in the lavender bubble bath I found under the sink. It was a little too flowery for my taste, but the bubbles were a must. I undressed and climbed into the warm, fragrant water and closed my eyes. I could still feel Colin's hands and mouth on me. My pussy ached from being with him. It was about as amazing as sex could be. He was a perfect lover. And I had to walk away from him. God, this family sucked. And Dad would have his photo and negative tomorrow. I just had to decide which photo and negative would go nicely with a tacky ransom note.

sixteen

. . .

Colin

I'd written an email to the apartment manager to let him know I wouldn't be renewing my lease. In a way I was relieved. I'd been spending a lot of money. Dad was all right, and I was fairly certain he was just joking about the ass wiping thing. It meant I'd be able to keep what savings I still had.