“My jet is fitted with Internet access, so I just sent her a message. She took care of it.”
I shook my head. It was as if fairies magically arranged his life to be completely perfect.
“It’s a security concern,” he said, shrugging.
“Security?”
“Just sensible security measures while outside of the country.”
I didn’t understand why he had to be afraid in America, but whatever.
“I can’t wait until you meet my parents. I’m sure my dad is going to be all alpha and tough, but they’ll love you.”
“If they’re anything like you, I’ll love them.”
&nb
sp; I loved the glow in his eyes.
“I’ll take you home,” I said. It was a vastly different experience from getting on his jet and getting ready to go back to America this time. He was my actual fiancé now, and my mother would be over the moon.
I’d ignored her emails, but she knew that I was safe. Dad wouldn’t let his little girl be in real danger. I might’ve been on a different continent, but he always kept an eye on me. It was surprising that Emilio had been able to bundle me into a plane so quickly, but now that I thought about it, my dad could’ve had something to say about me getting into a private jet with someone that he hadn’t had time to vet. He had no way to know where we were going, unless somehow he’d been able to access the filed flight plans. But why would he stop me from coming home with Emilio?
Overabundance of caution, I guessed. The pilot easily could’ve done an emergency landing somewhere else. Dad wouldn’t have liked that.
I was glad to be home. Ecuador had been a strange adventure — I’d meant to stay longer, but here I was, back home again.
I was quiet as I looked out the windows at lots of cars going lots of places, all in a rush. The Ecuadorian way was so different from the American one.
The car eventually came to a stop.
“How did you know where I lived?”
Emilio just shrugged.
“My assistant took care of it.”
It was a bit weird, but I let it pass.
We got out of the car. I went up to the door of my townhouse and opened my purse, searching for my keys. I normally used them on a daily basis, now they were probably at the bottom.
When the door opened, my dad was standing there. He stepped to the side to let me in.
“Hi, Daddy!” I said. Both of us walked inside.
To my horror, I saw him draw his fist back.
Meeting Naelle’s Father
Emilio
Naelle’s father’s fist hit my face, and I twisted to the side to avoid as much force as I could.
He kept advancing as I blocked all of his strikes. He had good training, yes, but so did I.
He had the advantage here, because he wanted to hurt me and I couldn’t hurt him. Everything that I did was defensive.
“How dare you show your face here?” my fiancée’s father told me.