“And I would really rather spend the night alone,” Hallie added bitingly.
With forced patience, I said, “I don’t doubt your security measures, sir. All the same, I’m the one in charge of Miss Thorne’s protection. It goes without saying I’ll be sleeping on the floor, if at all, while on duty.”
I wasn’t going to share a bed with the woman, especially after finding out just how royally I’d fucked things up by messing with her. Up until today, I had still assumed that Hallie Thorne was a reckless, overtly sexual woman who took her pleasures where she could find them. I didn’t for one moment suspect what we’d done seven nights ago was anything more than an expression of curiosity.
Anthony stroked his chin, nodding. “Your jurisdiction, your rules. Annika will show you to yourroomin a bit. You all right there, Sugar Pie?” He turned to his daughter. “You look a li’l pale.”
Hallie smiled sunnily. “When am I not, Pops?”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Hallie turned around, slamming her fist into my arm.
“How could you?” she whispered.
You’re about to have a massive meltdown tonight after being attacked, and“I want to keep an eye on you.”
“I can handle myself.” She clenched her teeth.
I didn’t doubt that, but I didn’t want her to wander this vast, strange house all by herself, either. Couldn’t chance Craig returning to seek his revenge. And some screwed-up part of me really didn’t want that vicious snake, Hera, to get any alone time with her.
“As I said before, I’ll take the floor.”
“A place fitting for a dog.”
“Exactly.”
Annika materialized out of nowhere, appearing in the hallway in her pressed uniform. She gave us a bow. “Miss Thorne, your parents are beyond happy you’re here. Will you be attending dinner?”
“You couldn’t pay me,” Hallie grunted.
“Excuse me?”
“No.” Hallie cleared her throat. “I’m not hungry, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Annika showed us to a fairly large room on the second floor. The house was mostly empty by now. All the guests had trickled out in the last hour or so, after realizing the unappeasable Hera Thorne was locked in her room, roaring at her mother.
The room was spacious and impeccably decorated. A king-sized bed with pressed Victorian linen, a few landscape paintings with heavy golden frames, two dressers laden with fresh flower vases, and a walk-in closet. The floor was carpeted—thank fuck—and there was already a stack of pillows and blankets on an antique, regency couch in the corner of the room. Since the couch stretched to about the length of my thigh, it didn’t hold much promise.
“It’s not too late to ask for your own room,” Hallie reminded me, tucking her hands under her ass while sitting on the bed, legs dangling mid-air.
“And miss all this fun?” I looked around, finding a good spot on the floor by the windows.
“Your funeral.”
“Wouldn’t you wish.”
“I would, actually.”
A terse smile touched my lips. “That would’ve held more weight if you didn’t cling to me every time your father was around. You trust me more than you do him.”
She blew a raspberry at me childishly. “You’re deranged.”
Stomping to the bathroom, she returned half an hour later in an oversized gray Harvard sweatshirt, boxers, and no makeup.
I was taken aback by the sheer beauty of fresh-faced Hallie. She was stunning.
I stood by the window, watching security personnel pack their shit and retreat back into the night.