“Perfect.” I step to the front of my desk. “As soon as your father tells you to drive her to South Dakota, you’ll bring her to Golden Oak instead.”
“She won’t go without Jensen.”
“Jensen?”
“Our stepbrother. Kind of.” Her pale eyes wince. “He’s my father’s third wife’s oldest son from another man. I’m pretty sure they’re in love.”
I’m not one to judge the personal lives of others. “Then he can come too.”
“Are you sure?”
I smirk. “Are you surprised that the tin man actually has a heart?”
“Not at all.” Her eyes light. “Do you have an extra car in your fleet? One I could park at a shop for a few days?”
“Of course. What are you thinking?”
She sits up straight. “I could leave it at my uncle’s shop, where Jensen works. I’ll tell my cousin that if he comes in there looking for me or my sister, to hand him the keys and tell him to press the HOME button on the GPS. It’ll bring him to Waverly. I love my sister dearly, but if she so much as thought about going back for him and risking throwing away all my efforts, I’d have to kill her. This’ll prevent that from happening.”
“Smart girl.”
“Okay.” Bellamy stands, reaching for her mug. The color’s begun to return to her face along with a bit of hope in her eyes. “So now we wait for my father to give me the go-ahead.”
“You’ll call me when you’re on your way,” I say. “I’ll pick you two up in the parking garage. You can leave her car there. I’ll have it towed.”
“We’re doing this.” The woman can’t help but smile.
“You worry about getting your sister here. I’ll handle everything else,” I fold my arms, watching her saunter toward the door. I promised to take care of her the first week we met.
I can’t help that I’m a man of my word.
THIRTY-FOUR
BELLAMY
Jensen and Waverly snuck out of the house last night. No one noticed until neither of them showed up to breakfast.
Then all hell broke loose. My father wasted no time springing his plan into action.
Jensen’s truck pulled up about an hour after breakfast, and the house went eerily quiet for a brief moment, like the calm before a storm. I step away the second their footsteps tread down the foyer as I’m unwilling to witness any of what’s about to happen.
“You’re endangering your virtue, Waverly. You need to be controlled. If I can’t control you, then…” My father’s voice booms from the dining room as I wait around the corner. “I didn’t want to have to do this. Not yet.”
My poor sister.
“Your marriage has been arranged. Your husband has been chosen for you.” I hear a pound, which is likely my father’s fist against the table.
“No!” Waverly sobs.
“Waverly, this is enough. You need to keep sweet and know that I am doing what’s best for you.” His voice is softer now, as if that could possibly get her to calm down. He’s just delivered the ultimate blow, knocking down everything she’s ever wanted with a handful of words and the promise of her worst nightmare.
“I can’t do this, Dad. I can’t. I can’t marry someone. Let me graduate from college first.” Her frantic pleas break my heart and renew my sense of purpose all at once. “I’m supposed to go to Utah. You said if-if I get a scholarship, I could go. I don’t want to get married yet, I—”
“The decision has been made. Bellamy will drive you. You’re to pack immediately. Your car is fueled and ready for the drive.”
On cue, I step out from around the corner, wearing a blank expression to protect this intricately laid plan.
“You fucking traitor,” Waverly points a finger at me and then braces herself for a slap that never comes. It’s a shock, really, because I’m not sure the word “fucking” has ever been spoken to Mark Miller by one of his offspring before.
My father looks to me, and I deliver the scripted lines he gave me earlier when he was sure she’d need my encouragement to help understand this insane situation.
“I’m sorry, Waverly,” I say, my arms folded and my demeanor painfully calm. “This is God’s will. This is for the best. It won’t be so bad.”
Dad nods at me then tells my sister to head upstairs to pack. My mother follows after, not to help, but to ensure it’s done in a timely manner. I give them ten minutes before slipping in the room and telling them it’s time to go.
I load her bag in the trunk of her Jetta and head toward the interstate. After a solid half hour of silence, I finally break it to her.
“I’m on your side you know.” I glance over at her. She’s flattened against the window with a wicked scowl on her face.
Not that I blame her.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I add after she refuses to speak. “You have to trust me.”
“You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever trust you again.”
When I merge onto a westbound exit ramp, Waverly sits up.
“I thought we were going to South Dakota.” Her words come out slowly as she gives me the side eye. “You’re going west.”
“I told you. Trust me.”
I take the exit to downtown SLC and glide down the familiar streets that lead to Townsend Tower, pulling into the basement parking garage and into a designated spot Dane had texted me that morning. I sent him a text before we left the house, when no one was looking, and he shot me back instructions to meet him here in one hour or less and to park in spot fourteen.
“Get out,” I instruct, shifting the car into park. My stomach responds with a flurry of butterflies when I spot Dane’s limo two spots down. The trunk pops, and Waverly glances in.
“Why are there two suitcases?” she asks.
I’d stuck mine in there a few days before when no one was looking. It’s mostly filled with trinkets and mementos, the only things I care to take with me from this life to my next.
Bronson steps out of the limo, walking around to open Dane’s door. I take back what I said about Clark Kent earlier. Right now I’m staring at a bona fide Superman in a three-piece suit doing his part to help save the day.
Dane checks the chrome watch on his hand and steps toward me, leaning in to graze his lips across my cheek. “You’re on time. Very good.”
“Bellamy, are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” Waverly plants her feet as Bronson transfers the bags.
I turn toward Dane, breathing in his cologne, which will forever smell like freedom to me. “This is Dane Townsend, my boss. He’s going to save us.”
***
Jensen arrives on the second day, shortly after breakfast. My sister practically pummels him over when she runs into his arms. Dane gives them space, time to acclimate, and free reign of the estate. They’ll be living here until Waverly goes to college in the fall, and much to my surprise – and hers – he’s sponsoring her at a local private college.
“How do I look?” I slip into the suite Jensen and Waverly are sharing later that night, the fabric of my evening gown gathered in my hands.
She sits up on her bed, rubbing her eyes. “Who are you?”
“Oh, stop.” I wave my hand, flicking my wrist where diamonds rest in the form of a tennis bracelet.
“Who is Dane?” Waverly asks.
I fight the smile instantly elicited by the mere mention of him. “He’s my boss.”
She arches her brows. “Just your boss?”
“It’s complicated.”
“He loves you.” She scoots back on the bed, folding her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. “That part is obvious.”
“It’s not that kind of relationship.” My smile fades, evaporating the second I heard the L-word. That word is contraband in this house. “I don’t expect you to understand. It’s a… consensual, adult relationship.”