out of a young, innocent girl. All so my father can fulfill his twisted, lifelong dream. No doubt, he’ll sleep like a baby tonight, while I’m haunted by the image of Evangeline’s bruised face.
They weren’t supposed to hurt her. That wasn’t part of the plan. But the men working for my father are thugs. Mindless yet dangerous men following orders.
I guess this makes me one of them.
Chapter Two
Eva
“No!”
Two letters. One syllable. Such a powerful word.
Too bad it doesn’t mean shit to my father.
Dad sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is not up for debate, Evangeline. You were attacked the other night. You need protection.”
I’m seconds away from stomping my foot. “I will not have an overgrown babysitter following me around!”
“Yes, you will, because I say you will. You are my daughter and—”
“And I am nineteen fucking-years-old.”
He flinches. “Language.”
“You can’t tell me what to do anymore!”
“Watch me.” He looks to his assistant, Jerry, motioning for him to open the door.
Because God forbid my father ever opens a damn door on his own.
“This man doesn’t just wield a gun,” Dad says. “He knows how to fight. Plus, he grew up here so he knows the area well. He was the best candidate we could find on such short notice.”
I roll my eyes. “Lucky me.”
I should feel lucky. I come from a wealthy family. I live in a luxurious, residential skyscraper in the greatest city in the world. Cars, clothes, accessories, trips on a private jet. On the outside, it looks like I have it all. What more could I want, right? Money can buy almost anything.
But it doesn’t buy happiness.
It doesn’t buy love.
It doesn’t diminish the pain or heartache.
All money does is mask reality. That’s why rich people live in huge-ass houses. They build fortresses to shield themselves from the harsh truth, convincing themselves that they’re important; that they deserve what they have; that they’re worth a damn. They fake kindness, fake having humanity. Empty words and meaningless gestures. There’s no real love. No passion. They cling to money because it’s the only thing that makes them feel something.
And I’m stuck here with them, a human amongst robots.
Jerry returns with a large man towering behind him. Large might be an understatement. Muscles bulge under the snug, black T-shirt he’s wearing, and strong thighs strain against his dark jeans. He’s also wearing scuffed-up Timberland boots with the laces untied. He’s dressed nothing like the rich men in this room. My world is filled with suits and ties and shiny shoes. I’m surprised Dad even looked twice at this guy. He looks more like the type of man a father would want to protect his daughter from, not pay him an exorbitant amount of money to follow her around. Then again, maybe that’s why Dad hired him.
He looks dangerous.
Scruff peppers his jawline, which is defined and chiseled like his body. His dark hair is messy, and not the on-purpose messy that preppy dudes use pomade to achieve. No, this guy legit towel-dried his hair after his shower and called it good—if he even showered. He looks like the type that would roll out of bed, sniff the armpits of a T-shirt plucked from the floor, and decide it’s wearable. Everything about him screams zero fucks given.
It’s a damn shame his aviators block his eyes from me. I’d bet they’re as dark as his eyebrows, which are dipped down, pinched together in a perma-scowl.
My gaze follows him as he strides toward my father and engulfs his hand in a firm shake. He moves with a natural, physical dominance, the kind that commands your attention.
He’s certainly got mine.
The man is beautiful.
Wait, no. What I meant to say was, “Are you fucking kidding me, Dad? You want this guy to follow me around all day?”
Dad rubs his temples in small circles. “Language, Evangeline. And yes, I do want this guy to follow you around. Mr. Carter is going to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection!”
“Have you seen your face?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s Manhattan. People get mugged all the time.”
“You’re not people. You’re my daughter. And you didn’t get mugged. They took you, hurt you, and left you right outside our building. They had another purpose, and I don’t intend on giving them a second chance to find out what that is.”
A frustrated growl rumbles in my throat. It’s no use arguing with him. I yank my leather jacket off the back of my chair, and stomp past my father like a toddler.
He hired me a