Page 26 of Because I Need You
“That girl, the one who came to the club the other night,” Petra said, hesitating.
“Talk,” I barked out.
Petra raised an eyebrow. I drew in a slow, steadying breath. This was one of the many reasons why my father didn’t employ women. Well, besides the fact that he was a misogynistic asshole. Women had a way of drawing things out and bringing out instead of getting to the point when they thought they were going to piss people off, though.
“She showed up at your house.”
“Which house?” I frowned.
“The Lincoln Park house.”
“My father’s house?” I shut my eyes to try to reel myself in. “What the fuck is she doing there?”
How the hell did she even know where the house was? Maybe the lawyer. That alone was a red flag. How did he know where it was? Unless my father had him on retainer, and if that was the case, why was he disclosing private information? I shook my head. Yet, another thing to deal with. If there was ever a time to be grateful that my father was out of the country, it was now. The house always had two guards and two housekeepers, and I had to assume they’d let her in. I wondered how the fuck she’d pulled that off. Over the years, I’d had crazy ex-flings show up and never managed to make it past the gates.
“Yep,” she said. “Someone apparently broke into Charles’ house.”
My eyes popped open. “While she was there?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I was literally getting the 411 when you came out here.”
“Call Flynn and ask him if he has a plane available here tonight. Tell him it’s urgent.”
“Got it.” She gave a nod and walked away, to the SUV in front of mine.
I got in the back of mine and banged my head on the headrest a few times.
“Airport?” Nico, my driver, asked.
“Yes.”
I didn’t know who the hell this woman was three weeks ago, and she was already turning out to be a hell of a fucking problem.
11
ISABEL
I hated asking people for help, but when I got to my dad’s house and went inside, I’d been ambushed. They’d tied me up, put a bag over my head, and pointed a gun to the side of my head. My body’s first reaction wasn’t to scream or run or fight, it was to pee myself. I hated that I did that, but it wasn’t really up to me. They’d assured me that they weren’t there to hurt me, but I’d heard that line before and it always ended in pain. In the end, they didn’t hurt me, not in all the ways they could have. It could’ve been so much worse, but to me, being tied up and feeling powerless was as bad as anything. Once they left, taking some boxes with them, the boxes I’d packed up to keep for myself, I was able to set myself free. They’d told me, from the door, that the knot had been undone. How I managed to get up to lock the door while still heaving with sobs was inexplicable. How I managed to get to the bathroom and shower and clean up after myself was a mystery to me. I didn’t remember doing any of it. I didn’t even remember how I stopped shaking hard enough to get back in the car and drive to Giovanni’s mansion.
I didn’t even want to decipher my thought process in coming here first, but now that I was here, I was glad I’d made that choice. I was sitting in an extra-large white couch, with a cozy blanket over my shoulders and a mug filled with chamomile tea in my still shaky hands. His housekeepers were so nice. His guards, not so much. They’d taken my phone, my purse, my keys, and my jewelry. And that was after I told them what had just happened to me. Assholes. My teeth were still chattering when the chime of the alarm rang alerting of an open door. I was staring at the television, at the words, “Are you still watching?” that had been there since the episode of some matchmaking show ended. The housekeepers picked it for me. I had no interest in watching anything.
A man cleared his throat, and I instantly knew it was him. I glanced over my shoulder. He looked like a dark horse, with his hands in his pockets, dressed in all black, eyes so dark they matched his attire.
“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” He walked around the couch until he stopped in front of me, and I had to crane my neck to look up. The mug shook harder. He took it from my hands, setting it down on the table beside me. He dipped the tip of his finger in the tea before handing me the cloth napkin that was next to the saltine crackers the housekeepers left there for me. To soothe my stomach, they’d said. I hadn’t touched them. “You don’t feel how hot this is?”
