“Nonsense!” declares Wylan. “There’s always time for tea.” He winks at me, the bastard.
I sigh. “Fine. But you go on up and I’ll bring the tea up in a moment.”
“Okay! Come on, Wylan?—”
“No,” I say, my eyes hard on Wylan. “I’ll bring him up with me when I’m finished making the tea.”
Elsie pouts, but does as I say, climbing the stairs with overemphasized steps until I hear her enter her room.
Wylan grins at me. “Don’t trust me yet, I see.”
“Do you blame me?” I scowl, reaching for the tea kettle. He steps closer, wrapping his large hand around mine. He’s far too much in my space, and it forces me to crane my neck up to look at him.
“No,” he says, a smirk on his ridiculously plump lips. “I don’t.” Something about the way he says it, his voice husky and deep, sends shivers down my spine that I do my best to conceal. “Allow me,” he says, taking the kettle completely from me before he finally turns away and starts working on tea for a little girl’s tea party.
Twenty-Two
Ava
That’s how Dagen finds us a few hours later, all three of us sitting around the tiny table, watching a movie on the small TV in the corner of Elsie’s room. When the doorbell rings, I’m never more glad for Dagen adding in the security system connected to my phone. I was able to look at the app and unlock the door from upstairs. The moment he’s in the house, I call, “We’re upstairs,” to him until I hear his steps coming up.
Wylan is very into the princess movie we’re watching, hanging on every word as if this is the first time he’s ever seen it. He’s doing it purely for Elsie’s benefit, and for that, my trust in him grows just a little bit more. Elsie is completely taken with him, and when she’d asked him if he wanted to dress up, she’d been delighted when he’d agreed. Right now, he’s wearing a pink tutu, glittery fairy wings, and a tiara. He even has a large feather boa wrapped around his neck. These items combined with his ripped black jeans, combat boots, and black shirt make him look absolutely ridiculous, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
I’m similarly dressed in a set of fairy wings and a tiara, laughing at the antics of the chipmunk in the movie, when Dagen appears in the doorway.
“What’s going on?” he asks, his eyes sparkling as he looks around the room. He catches sight of Wylan and raises his brow, but doesn’t comment on it.
“Tea party!” Wylan declares. “All we’re missing is some quality biscuits.”
“Want a tiara?” Elsie asks brightly. “You’d look great in one.”
“I’ll pass for now,” he says, laughter in his eyes. “Maybe next time, Elsie.” He meets my eyes. “Can I speak to you, Ava?”
I freeze, but shake off my sudden fear and stand to follow him. “Sure.”
I leave my teacup on the table and point a finger at Wylan.
He crosses his heart in a promise to be on his best behavior and part of me. . . trusts that. I must be insane to trust a hired assassin with my daughter, but it’s clear she’s not in any danger.
We head downstairs to the kitchen where I immediately move over to the coffee machine. “Would you like some coffee?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him.
“No, thank you,” he answers, so I turn away from the machine and face him. My fairy wings brush against the cabinets and I realize I probably should have taken them off to have whatever this talk is about, but it’s too late now.
“So, what’s happened?” I ask, bracing myself. Dagen doesn’t usually bother me on Sundays. I assume whatever he has to say, it’s important. The man doesn’t do anything without reason.
Even if it’s to protect his investment.
“Aria Tech, specifically Ric, set up a meeting for tomorrow to discuss the dropped contract. I assume he’s being sent to beg for a reversal or try to appeal to my emotions. That’s typically how men like him operate.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay. And?”
“Since he’s there to attempt to play with my emotions, I’d like to play back,” he admits. “I think it’s a power move to have you walk into the room as my business asset.”
“What?” I gasp.
“He already knows where you are. He knows you’re here. But he doesn’t know we’re working together. Imagine the blow he’ll take knowing that.”
“I. . . I don’t know,” I admit, looking down. “I’m not sure I can.”
