Dieter’s fingers are moving faster and his breath has become ragged. “That’s perfect, little one. Who’s daddy’s good girl?”
Me. I am. In every way. That’s what I want to be.
“Oh, daddy, I—” And I break off with a cry as I come, clenching round him and it’s definitely strange but also amazing.
Dieter takes hold of both my wrists and thrusts hard and deep, and I revel in the wildness of his final movements.
My face is sweaty and hot against the sheets as he lets go of me and slowly eases himself from me. I feel a sting, and let out a hiss between my teeth, but the pain quickly evaporates. Weak from my exhaustion, I find we’re back on the floor again, and he’s damp with sweat too and we’re a tangle of limbs and hot breath.
It’s a fine balance, who’s in control and who’s letting who be in control. I thought it had to be all me or nothing at all. Then it seemed like he wanted it to be all him. But now it feels like it’s both of us, doing this together, and it’s so sweet and sad at the same time because I can’t have this forever. I will have to be without him soon. He pulls me closer and I let him, but my hands hold each other, cradled against his chest, rather than one of his.
Chapter Eleven
I ease myself away in the early morning half-light, smiling down at Adrienne’s curved, naked spine. The digital clock reads six-fifty a.m., and Adrienne doesn’t have class till ten so I let her sleep and go downstairs with my laptop. I have work to do.
Once coffee is brewing I open up the real estate listings for office spaces around London. I need something central, or as near to the City as possible, with good security and a solid presence. Something that inspires confidence, as ease of mind is as important as muscle and vigilance in this business. It wouldn’t hurt for the building to look sleek and expensive, either.
I’m looking for the headquarters for my new company. It’s an idea I’ve been kicking around for a few years, a personal security firm that takes soldiers straight from the army and trains them to be bodyguards. Soldiers have the makings of excellent security officers, but they need to learn how to work in urban environments with urban-savvy clients. It’s a skill that I was lacking when I left the SAS. British security firms wouldn’t touch me. They’d been burned in the past, they said, by twitchy, desert-hardened recruits who didn’t know how to adjust to the streets of London, LA and Paris. I had to work in Saudi Arabia and the UAE for several years instead until I proved myself, when all I’d wanted was to come home.
It will take a great deal of investment and time to turn soldiers into security officers, but I know it can be done. I’m living proof. And if I have a business to run I won’t need to be a bodyguard myself, responsible twenty-four-seven for someone else’s well-being. I could have time for other things. For another person. If she wants me.
As I click around the sites I mentally list all the things I have to do. Register a business name. Rent premises. Get in touch with old army contacts to put out the word that I’m recruiting. Think about branding and a web presence. I should hire an assistant to keep track of the paperwork and a marketing specialist to work on social media and other things I have no clue about. It’s going to be a lot of work, and I still have to focus on Adrienne, but I feel good about getting started.
Just before nine I hear the snap of the letterbox and go to check what the postman’s brought. Two bills that I’ll forward to Mr. Westley’s lawyer...and nothing else. No hate mail at all. For a second I stand there, staring at the benign light brown envelopes as if there’s been a mistake. Over the last two weeks the hate mail has been dwindling, but this is the first time since I came to the house that there’s been none at all.
I shake my head in disbelief, and go back to the kitchen. I’m glad that there’s no hate mail, but at the same time I feel a twinge of anxiety. Soon Adrienne won’t need me anymore. I want her to grow and be safe. But what if she outgrows me before I can prove to her that I’m able to be there for her properly?
She comes downstairs a few minutes later, dressed in a pale mint-green sweater and a charcoal skirt. White socks are pulled up to her knees and she smells like lilac flowers. With a broad smile she tucks herself beneath my chin and hugs me.
“Morning daddy,” she whispers, and plants a kiss on my nose. Then she holds up her phone. “I’ve had a call. My mother.”
I search her face for signs of stress or anger, but there are none. “Oh yes?”
“She’s coming into town. Wants to know if she can see me. I think that letter you made me write did the trick. I told her I wanted to visit her again but she seems to think it’s about time she start acknowledging there’s a world outside the clinic again. Isn’t that good?”
I kiss her. “Very good. I’m so glad, kitten.” And I am glad. I don’t want myself to be Adrienne’s only source of comfort and affection in the world. Her father seems like a lost cause but I think she might be able to rebuild her relationship with her mother.
“Do you mind if I see her by myself?”
I watch her closely, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, by yourself?”
“You know, alone. I think she’ll probably want to talk about you. You saw how she is. If she gets her back up she’ll just sit there and sulk and chain-smoke.”
“Am I going to get her back up?”
Adrienne wrinkles her nose. “I like you. But ex-military bodyguards who are a dozen years older than their daughters tend to get mothers’ backs up.”
“I like that you’re thinking about your mother’s feelings, but not when it interferes with your safety. I don’t provide annoyance protection. I provide life protection.”
She rolls her eyes, and I say, in a warning tone, “Kitten.”
“Sorry,” she mutters. “It’s just I think I can be more convincing about our...arrangement if you’re not there, hovering.”
I fold my arms. “I do not hover.”
She turns liquid eyes on me. “Please, Dieter.”
“You’re asking me to break my number one rule: the principal goes nowhere alone.”