It was enough to break a woman out in hives.
I took a sip of my coffee, letting Lisandra bitch. I figured she had a crush on Jack, which, despite her anti-man phase, fit. He was her type, so I let her work her shit, flirt a little, then he started to look flustered because, even during the aforementioned anti-man phase, she was a lot to handle. I decided to save him by saying, “Jack? Can I look at the Haneli catalogue, please?”
He blinked, shuffled through the catalogues he had in a drawer in his desk, and passed it over to me.
When his attention switched back to Lisandra, I figured he was into her so, with a smirk, I left them to it as I perused the articles from a designer I’d already purchased several pieces from.
They were expensive, but, considering Eoghan lived at the top of a high rise in Manhattan, I figured he could afford for me to splurge.
As I eyed the long, super wide sofa that was pretty much a bed for the living room, which came with these neat, Indian-style carvings on the armrests, I’d never really know what prompted me to look up.
But when I did, peering through the open door, I saw him, and my heart sank.
A part of me knew Eoghan couldn’t keep his promise, but the only way he could stop my father from getting to me was if he was dead.
My mouth flattened when I saw him standing in the store, staring at me like I was the enemy and not his daughter—which, in a way, I figured I was now. Technically, at least.
He wore an expensive suit with that black silk scarf that told me Eoghan’s damage to his shoulder had been extensive because, in my world, we didn’t wear shit like slings or casts for long. At least, we didn’t go out with them on. Flaunting a weakness was asking for trouble.
Of course, things changed when a daughter with a recalcitrant husband left the house for the first time in a week…
I vowed, then and there, to dump my phone.
He obviously had a trace on me, and I wanted to slap myself silly for not figuring that out sooner. I also cursed my idiocy in ignoring Eoghan’s demand that I contact a guard to chauffeur me around.
I’d seen his keys that hung by a console table beside the elevator, and that Aston Martin had Lisandra’s and my names all over it.
The need for speed and a bit of freedom to spread my wings was going to cause me a world of hurt. I could just feel it.
His eyes narrowed on me the longer I stared at him without getting to my feet, and while a part of me feared the aftermath that was coming to embrace me, I wasn’t scared.
This was too common an occurrence to be scared.
Mostly, I was mad at myself for being in this situation.
Eoghan’s stupid promises had made me lose track of what our reality was.
I couldn’t believe that in a week, he’d undone years’ worth of training, which told me something—I wanted to believe in him. Wanted to think he could do the impossible.
And that was dangerous.
Hope was dangerous.
Deadly, even.
I knew Father could drag me out of here, could shove me in his car and take me back to the house, but would he?
He didn’t give a shit about the employees in the store, nor did he care about things like security.
He could take me, and his goons, who’d be hovering outside, would be there to threaten anyone who tried to call the cops.
Assessing the situation and coming up with only one solution, I got to my feet, placed the catalogue on the desk, then stated, “I’ll just be a minute.”
Lisandra frowned at me, not because I’d interrupted her flirtathon, but because she was curious why I was leaving.
Maybe something was etched into my expression, because she twisted around, saw my dad, and shot me a look.
“Everything okay?”