Emilee

I open my eyes and stretch as I look around Dylan's studio apartment for him. He lives in a converted loft that once was a warehouse. The front door is on rails, and it locks with a padlock I've never seen him use. The room is echoey and cold, but it feels like it's made for him.

He's standing naked in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at his phone. He's thin and muscular with shoulder-length hair, a perfectly groomed beard, and a little too much body hair. But I love him.

"Come back to bed," I say.

He grunts, mumbles something, then continues looking at his phone. While I wait, I quickly run my fingers through my black hair, then position myself on my side, with the sheet draped over my breasts and hips but nothing else. I think I look seductive and can't wait for him to turn and notice me.

But he doesn't.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He grunts again and then glances over at me. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

I wince at his words but then tell myself that he's just being nice, thinking about my time. I must have told him about my dad asking to talk this afternoon. It's a conversation I dread having.

"No, I can stay here all day if you want," I say.

He looks at his watch, then back to his phone.

"I have things to do," he says.

I stay in my sexy position, still waiting for him to notice. After several minutes, he starts typing on his phone.

"Who are you texting?" I ask.

"My girlfriend."

I giggle and pick up my phone, waiting for a text from him, but it doesn't come. I sit up in bed, pulling the sheet up to cover myself more, and check my phone again. Nothing.

I check to make sure I'm not in a dead zone, then close and reopen the app. Nothing. I reboot my phone. Something has to be wrong with my phone for me not to get his text. Still, nothing.

"I don't get it," I say. "Was that a joke?"

"Huh?" he asks. "You confuse me sometimes, baby." He picks up his boxers from the floor and puts them on. "Has your dad said anything about promoting me yet?"

"No, not yet."

"You asked him, right?"

"Yes, several times. He doesn't want to hear it."

Dylan pulls the sheet down, exposing my body. "You like how I'm taking care of you, right, baby?" His hand slides up my thigh, giving me goosebumps.

"Of course, you know I love you," I say.

"Then why haven't you gotten me that job? If you really loved me, you would."

"But it's not up to me. You know I love you. I love you so much. And you love me too."

"Does your father know I popped his little girl's cherry?"

"Don't say it like that," I say. "You make it sound like this is all about sex."

He grunts and gets up from the bed.

"He knows we're dating and that we love each other."

"Mmm hmm," he says as he looks at his phone again.

I pull the sheet up, feeling exposed suddenly. Dylan is back to ignoring me. What did I do wrong?

"I love you," I say.

Dylan heads to the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge. With his head still in his phone, he sits down at a small wooden table and begins to drink.

"Dylan?"

"Oh, sorry, baby. Did you want one?"

"No. Did you hear what I said?"

"No, I wasn't paying attention. Was it something about your dad?"

"I love you."

"Okay, baby."

"You love me, right?"

"Sure, baby. Get me that promotion, and I'll love you even more."

I tell myself he has to be joking. I start to think about the times he's told me he loves me and realize he's never actually said it.

"You said we would be together forever," I say. "So you must love me, right?"

"Why are you doubting me, baby? I told you, arrange everything with your dad and we can be together all the time. Get me a piece of that pie."

"You mean the job? Is that all you care about?"

The front door is yanked open, making a rolling metal sound. Two overly muscular men burst in, and I wrap the sheet tightly around myself. I recognize them as Clive and Jimmy. They work for my dad.

"Let's go," Clive says.

Clive is the stockier and older of the two. His light brown hair is grey at the temples.

"No," I say, sitting up straighter but careful to keep myself covered. "Dylan, do something."

Dylan looks up from his phone and at the two men. "Oh hey guys, want a beer?"

"I wish, but we're on the clock," Jimmy says.

"Yeah, I get it. I told her she should go."

"You're covering for me tonight, right?" Jimmy asks.

"Yup, you know I got you. I'm looking forward to that sweet overtime."

"Your father has been waiting for you," Clive says.

"He can keep waiting."

"I don't think you heard me," he says, his voice seething with anger. "I said we have to go."

He reaches out and grabs my upper arm, then yanks me out of the bed. I hold onto the sheets to cover myself as I drop to the floor.

"Get dressed, brat," he says before turning his back to me.

Dylan and Jimmy are talking while Clive taps his foot impatiently. I pick up my dress and undies off the floor and take them to the bathroom with the sheet still wrapped around me.

When I step back into the loft, Dylan and Jimmy are gone. Clive looks at his watch before walking to the door.

"Don't give me any trouble," he says.

With his meaty hand wrapped around my arm, he leads me out of the loft and to the black sedan all of my father's employees drove. I pull my arm away from him and fold my arms over my chest as we walk to the door. He opens the door, and I get into the backseat.

As Clive begins to drive, I notice Dylan and Jimmy standing by Dylan's car.

"Oh wait, there's Dylan," I say as I roll down the window. I wave out the window to Dylan, but he turns away from me. "Guess he didn't see me," I mutter.

"Are you stupid?" Clive says. "You can't possibly be this naive."

"What are you talking about? I'm not stupid."

"He's using you! I can't be the only one who's pointed this out. What have your girlfriends said about him?"

"I don't have any girlfriends. Never saw the need for them."

"Never saw the need?"

"No, logically, there is none."

"Logically, that asshole is using you to get at your father's money. Logically, I should stay out of this. But if you were my daughter, I'd be grateful that someone had tried to tell her."

"He's not using me. He loves me."

But even as the words left my mouth, I realized that Clive's words had a ring of truth to them. I pushed that aside and focused on the posh prison we were pulling up in front of.

I grew up here. I barely remembered my mother anymore, but I was grateful that my dad was the kind of person who tried to keep her memory alive with stories about her and old photos all over our home.

I never minded all the homeschooling; I actually enjoyed it. My father and I are close, but over the past year we haven't been seeing eye-to-eye. After all these years of my dad letting me do what I wanted, he started talking about my getting married. He didn't like that I was leaving the house without him. He especially didn't like Dylan. And I can see why.

Before Dylan, I rarely left the compound. Dad made sure I had everything I could need. But Dylan encouraged me to break free, to go out into the world and see what was out there.

As I exit Clive's car, I notice a parked white Maserati. Clive grabs my arm, but I quickly jerk it away.

"Let me go. I don't want you anywhere near me."

"Your father is waiting for you in his office," he growls as we enter the house.

"You don't have to tell me to go to my father's office. I know why you brought me here. Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me?" I jab at his chest with my finger before turning towards the office.

As I turn towards my father's office, I notice someone else in the grand foyer walking towards the door. The man looks comfortable in his suit, something not every man can pull off, but he has a quiet confidence to him that I only see in older men.

I'm never attracted to older men. They usually make me think of my father, but this man is different. My pulse quickens.

His dark, wavy hair is a little wild from the windy day. I spot some grey at his temples, but he's so attractive that I don't care about this reminder of his age. It's more than just his looks, though. There's something about him that I feel is pulling me to him. I'm enchanted by his blue eyes, which hold my gaze, letting everything around us fall away. It's only us, and I can't explain it, but that's exactly what I want. My heart leaps in my chest, and my breath catches in my throat.

A noise catches my attention. I feel as though I've been dreaming. I realize my father finally did what he was always threatening to do—he found a husband for me.

"So I see my father found another daddy for me," I say, trying not to fall into the trap of his blue eyes again.

"Hi, ?" I'm?—"

"Shhh," I say, interrupting him. His voice is smooth and deep, and it's affecting me like his eyes did. Like all of him does. "Sorry to waste your time, old man, but I'm already taken. My dad doesn't get to pick who I'm marrying."

I escape to my father's office and quickly pull the door closed behind me. I lean my back against the door and put my hand on my chest, feeling my heart race.

What was that? Who was that?

"You okay, honey?" Dad asks as he looks up from his desk. His head tilts to the side and the corners of his mouth draw up into a smile. "I know that look."

"What look?" I ask. "Who was that? Are you really trying to marry me off? Is that your answer to my not being the perfect doting daughter? Just get rid of me?"

He laughs. "You know that's not true. You know I'd love nothing more than to keep you here with me forever." He walks over to me and gently touches my arm. "Come on, sit down. Let's talk."

We walk to the seats next to the fireplace, near windows that face the front of the house. Condensation drips down two glasses by the seats. One of them was his. I wonder if he drank out of one, if his lips touched the glass, and what his lips feel like.

What is wrong with me???

"There's nothing to talk about," I say.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement outside the window. I walk over to get a better look and see the man getting into his car. I position myself to the side, by the curtain, so he can't see me if he looks my way.

"When you walked in here, that's the look," Dad says.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, unable to take my eyes off the man as he drives away.

"I ever tell you how I met your mother?"

"Yes, a hundred times, Dad. Are you really going to bring her up now when you're trying to get rid of me?"

"I'm not trying to get rid of you. I'm trying to protect you. I've been telling you for months now that Dylan is only using you, but you refuse to see it. He doesn't care about you."

"He loves me. He doesn't say it, but I know he does. You don't like him because he doesn't come from money."

"I wouldn't care if he had no money as long as he made you happy."

"He does make me happy."

"Then what were those tears about last night? And the other night? And the night?—"

"Stop it! Every couple has problems sometimes."

"The problem is he doesn't love you. He doesn't care about you. He only cares about himself. And frankly, , I don't think you love him either. I think you're infatuated with him, and you just don't know any better."

"And who's fault is that? I never got to date. I never went to any prom, homecoming, or even a dance. You've kept me locked up here my entire life."

"I'm sorry about that," he says quietly. "I didn't want to lose you. I was trying to protect you. I thought you were happy."

I throw my hands up in frustration. "I was happy, Dad. I'm still happy, but I need to grow up. I'm twenty-two. What happened to Mom was an accident, Dad. You can't protect me from every accident."

Dad looks at his phone and smiles.

"I might not be able to protect you from every accident, but I can protect you from making a big mistake with Dylan," he says. "That look you had when you came in here, you saw him, Alex, didn't you? And you felt something."

"Fine, yes, okay, I did."

"I know you did. The look on your face was the same one your mother had on the day we met."

I fold my arms over my chest and step closer to him.

"Go on," I say.

"She told me she loved me from the moment we first met. She said she saw me and felt as if she was whisked away as if it was just the two of us. That nothing else in the world mattered. She said she thought something was wrong with her because her heart was pounding so hard." He laughs softly, and his eyes well up. "I remember that day so clearly, even though it was thirty years ago. You know what? Everything she said about how she felt? I felt exactly the same way. So that look you had when you came in here, the same look you got when you looked out the window, I know that look."

I think about Alex's blue eyes and how everything else fell away when I looked at them.

I sigh and roll my eyes. Even if my dad is right, there's no way he understands how I feel, and there's even less chance of me admitting he's right.

"You're romanticizing things, Dad. He's a stranger, and I love someone else."

"My dear daughter, you only think you love someone else. Call it fate or kismet, but Alex Winterbourne is the one for you. I'm sure of it."

"And how are you so sure?"

He flips his phone around to face me, showing me a text.

"Because he's going to be your husband."