Last month I sent Paige a message telling her I wanted out. She said her husband Ryan had a replacement whenever I was ready to go. I was both relieved and disappointed she didn’t ask me to stay on. Although I knew I wanted a life of my own, I liked being needed. Even if it was a business on the other side of the world.
To my surprise, I got a message the next day from Paige saying that I owed her one last favor and asking me to come to the States.
I’d met both Ryan and Paige several times over the years. They’d come to Europe on vacation and we’d end up talking business for hours. I respected the two of them and thought that they worked well together as a team. There were also times I’d become jealous, seeing the love they shared, and had to excuse myself. It was difficult to be around two people who adored one another so much, knowing that I’d never find that kind of love myself. A woman who wanted me, who was soft and sweet. All I ever seemed to draw in were women who wanted darkness. Who thought I would be rough. It would make my stomach roll at the thought of something like that. I wanted the sweetness I saw between them. The love and devotion. Not the pain and darkness.
I decided that I’d repay the debt and go to America. And when I arrived, they told me that they’d like me to protect one of their daughters. Something that sounded simple enough.
I finish getting dressed and make my way through the garden that separates the guest quarters from the main house. I agreed to stay here for a trial period until we figure out something more permanent. Penelope is still deciding on colleges, they said, and they don’t want to make any decision yet.
When I get to the back of the house, I catch a glimpse of her at the table from my position at the glass doors outside the kitchen.
As if I’ve spoken her name aloud, she turns to face me, and our eyes lock. Her green eyes are like nothing I’ve seen before. A sweet, pure innocence pours off her in waves, touching me deep in my soul in a place I didn’t even know was there.
My chest fills with warmth as a chill runs from the back of my neck down my spine. It’s exactly like last night all over again.
I’ve never felt more powerless with one look.
Chapter Three
Penelope
“Penny!” The loud whisper from my sister has me opening one eye to look at her.
“What?” I moan, pulling the pillow over my head.
I debate whether to use the same trick my parents did with us when they went from a king-size bed to a full so we couldn’t sleep with them anymore. Though I would have to get a twin to get Pandora out of mine.
“I’m hungry.” Her words come out in a pout. I don’t even have to see her face to know the expression she’s making right now.
“And the sky is blue.” I roll over and pull the pillow off my head, looking at my alarm clock. The damn thing hasn’t even gone off yet. She’s always hungry. “What the flip, Pan? It’s not even time to get up.” I throw the pillow at her. She catches it easily and tosses it back on the bed.
“I gotta go in early. Forgot to finish up my paper for art history, and I need those stupid books in the library.”
This isn’t shocking. Pandora hates homework. If she could skate by on tests she would be golden. This year we didn’t get any of the same classes, so she doesn’t have me reminding her about what’s due anymore.
“What do you want?” I ask, pulling myself from the bed.
“Bacon and pancakes,” I hear her say from behind me. “Oh, and scrambled eggs with—”
“I know how you like your eggs,” I tell her, cutting her off. I’ve been making this family breakfast almost every morning since I was old enough to be in the kitchen alone.
“You rock!” she yells, running from my room to get ready.
I make my way to the kitchen and start breakfast, and I work on packing everyone’s lunch at the same time. Today I make tomato turkey sandwiches with a sweet glaze on slices of fresh bread.
“Sweetheart,” my dad greets me, coming into the kitchen and placing a kiss on top of my head.
“Hey, Dad. Bacon and pancakes today,” I tell him, handing him a plate.
He gives me another kiss on the head before sitting down at the breakfast bar and digging in. My mom walks in the kitchen a few minutes later, and my dad is on his feet, pulling her chair out for her then giving her a deep kiss. I roll my eyes but smile as I go back to packing everyone lunches.
My parents can be a little too PDA for me at times, but I wouldn’t want them any other way. My dad and mom were made for each other, and I hope one day I find that, too. An image of Ivan from the night before flutters through my mind, as do some of the dreams I’d had about him. My cheeks start to heat as I remember them, particularly the one of him kissing me over and over again. And the one where I trace his tattoos, though the images of that one are fuzzy, which means I might need to get a better look at them.