The Guardian: A NOVEL

by Pamela Ann

  One would expect a sick man in bed, waiting for the floodgates of Heaven to welcome him, but no, that was not how the renowned Peter Weber intended to go.

  He sat on a black leather wingback chair, dressed in his preferred all black ensemble, sole concentration aimed at his white expanse of a work desk, one hand on a keyboard with 3D digital layouts across the screen while the other went over the small device in his hand, which connected to another screen. Data encryptions sporadically updated every minute or so.

  “We’re developing this new project for the NSA. It’s still in the early stages…I hope to finish it before I go,” I heard him say as I gradually approached him. There was no tremor in his voice, only clear determination. If he was saddened about his present terminal condition, there was no indication at all.

  “Is it really necessary to worry about unfinished projects right now, Papa?” Being that my mother was Brazilian, I learned to call him Papa instead of dad.

  Peter Weber warily placed the device down and finally gazed upon me, standing a few feet away, frustratingly frowning at him.

  “I figured you’d be a little upset, my darling,” he said, gauging my temper. “I thought it best to send Jared first so you’d have enough time to acclimate yourself to the changes in your life.”

  “A little upset?” My voice quivered, appalled that my father couldn’t grasp how affected I was. Upset barely scratched the surface to fully describe my feelings. “My father’s dying, and you think me upset? Are you so detached from the rest of humanity that you can’t take a moment to consider how distraught I’d be? Mom’s gone and you’ll be, too, very soon…you could’ve at least warned me that you were ill.” I paused, trying to compose myself, even though tears rimmed my eyes. “What am I going to do without you?” My voice came out as a soft whisper. “I’m going to be all alone…I’ll have no one else…no one at all.”

  My father made an effort to stand up but was too weak to successfully achieve it. His lips pressed together, frustrated from his lack of strength, before slowly reclining back on his seat. Depleted. “I apologize for all my faults—don’t doubt that—but I hope you understand my plight. I’m old, and after your mother died, something died in me, too.” His voice shook for the first time, showing signs distress and a combination of exhaustion and emotional upheaval. His gray eyes, identical to mine, gravely implored. “I want to be with her, my darling. I’ve lived enough. It’s time to go. I’m tired.”

  “But what about me? Don’t I matter at all?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve failed you. But I can’t go on living like this. It’s not living at all. I hope you understand why I had to ask Jared to look after you. He’s a good man…and I know how you feel about him, too, so I figured this would be the best step for you.”

  “What?” I gasped loudly, blinking at him, stunned speechless. He knew? For how long? “What ever do you mean?”

  A soft, knowing, tired smile tugged at his lips. “You are my daughter, Gisele. I know you’ve pined for him over the years. He’s overlooked you, but this changes things. I hope your marriage will blossom into something significantly beautiful. I hope my marriage to your mother gave you a compass of what a blissful, meaningful marriage is like. Strive for that completeness, my darling. And if you can’t find it with Jared, don’t settle until you find a man who will worship the ugly side of you. If a man loves you through that, he’ll be your strength, helping you to navigate through life. Parting this life knowing you have him to care for you, it eases most of my guilt.”

  “If you think that eases the pain of losing you, it won’t.”

  “I know, my darling Gisele. I’m sorry for that.” He suddenly looked haggard, as if our exchange had spent most of his energy.

  “Jared said he hired a doctor and a slew of nurses to help you get comfortable…but don’t you want to go to a hospital, instead?” My heart ached. I felt helpless.

  “If I die, it’ll be in my home.” He released a strangled breath before closing his eyes. His hand then reached towards the intercom. “Thomas, tell Dr. Kim I need my dose of morphine.”

  “Right away, sir,” Thomas smoothly responded.

  I could easily picture him striding down the polished halls, perfect posture, chin up, and stoic as ever as he hunted for the physician in question. Our butler Thomas had been employed for over fifteen years. My mother managed to convince him to leave working for The Savoy to run their household. Thomas hadn’t left since. He was loyal to my parents, so much so that his personal life was practically nonexistent. I’d never heard him take a day off in his life.

  After my mother’s death, the good man had been the only person who could bring a smile to my face in this house.

  “When did he find out?” I asked out of the blue, wondering out loud. Thomas was family. Father was fond of him as well. We all were, including Jared.

  My father pressed his lips, seeming pale as he rested his head against the leather chair. “He was the first to know—two weeks ago.”

  He had kept it all from us. For him to slowly bring us into the fold could only mean one thing—the end was near. I thought after speaking to him, I’d be enlightened as to why he chose this route—disregarding doctors advice for any sort of treatment. He made no attempt at all. Not even the holistic approach. My father simply declined each and every one of them, willingly accepting his fate as it was. No holds barred. This shouldn’t have surprised me; this was the great Peter Weber, after all. The man had the unconventional kind of thinking. Eccentricity was in his DNA. But I was left more confused than before. How could he throw away his life? All the hard work he channeled into his company, and for what? Because he was tired of living without my mother? That wasn’t reason enough, not to me, anyway.

  Thomas, Dr. Kim, and the nurses came rushing in to aid him with his pain medication.

  “Do you want me to leave while they tend to you?” my voice faltered as my gaze shifted from my father to the gang of medical staff instantaneously checking his temperature and pulse. One of the nurses pulled a needle and a bottle of something, which probably was the medication my father had requested.

  “I’d rather you not witness any of it, my darling,” he murmured weakly before he lifted a hand to halt them from going any further. “Will you and Jared join me for supper later? It’ll be in my breakfast room. It’s going to be a full moon tonight. I thought it might be good to enjoy it from the balcony.”

  “I’d love that.” I nodded as I gazed at his ashen pallor. “Jared’s outside. I’ll let him know.” A large part of me badly wanted to go over to him and give him a hug, but I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it yet, not when he appeared too feeble and weakened.

  A trace of a smile faintly appeared on his face. “You’re a brave girl, Gisele. Thank you, my darling girl.” Those were the last words he uttered before he nodded towards the people who waited around him, prepared to have the medication administered that they came in for.

  He and I used to bring fruits and pastries up on his balcony while Mother slept, and we’d star gaze for hours on end. I was three when I learned the solar system. Four when I thoroughly studied stars and their organic compounds. Once upon a time, I was the apple of his eye. However, after losing Mom, that affectionate man vanished. Gone was the doting father, replaced by someone who couldn’t tolerate my presence if it went over an hour.

  I stood at the door, hovering for a good minute or two, realizing that I was about to lose my father. My hero. The man who taught me everything, the one who embedded how essential it was to learn, to keep learning, and to never stop my hunger for knowledge. My mother taught me the essence of life. My father taught me the vital lessons of life. They were the very fabric of my existence, and soon, I’d be on my own.

  Alone.

  All I can do now is cherish what little time I have left with him…

  My heart ached. Blow after blow, my world began to unravel, gradually crumbling my safe haven to smithereens. I barely had a chance to fully co
mprehend what was going on with me personally when another problem whacked me full throttle. Dwelling on my present condition could wait. My father came first.

  Jared was nowhere to be found, so I went upstairs, intending to go to my bedroom until I realized the door across from mine stood ajar. Curiosity piqued, I entered the bedroom and found him there, standing on the balcony, deep in thought as he gazed into the English designed garden and the Greek-styled pool below.

  “Do you need me to prepare the room so you can rest for a while?” I carefully suggested with his back facing me while I reprimanded myself for why it hadn’t occurred to me that he could be exhausted after a long journey. Since I was ensconced in the jet’s room, I had no clue if he managed to get any shuteye. Jared always functioned efficiently, never showing signs of exhaustion, not in the last nine years I’d known him.

  Without twisting his body, he softly spoke, “Thomas suggested I use this room to put my belongings in.”

  Oh. Thomas had to conveniently choose this room when there were four others to choose from. Was he in cahoots with my father? I wouldn’t put it past them. They were closer in age, so my father tended to divulge thoughts, particularly regarding me.

  Slowly, I crossed the bedroom threshold, only halting against the frame of the French doors that led to the balcony. It was past noon; the sun was at its height, but the soft breeze caressing my skin felt cool and marvelous. For a brief moment, calmness temporarily pacified the heavy ache in my chest.

  Jared began to turn to face me, hands in his pocket, eyes fixed on my serene face. “You don’t mind sharing a bed with me, do you?”

  My heart stopped functioning the moment the word bed escaped his lips. Breaking eye contact, I tried to subtlety release a breath. “I don’t mind at all.”

  Magnetic eyes trained on me. “Since you’re here, I’d like to let you know we’re set to marry tomorrow.”

  “That quick?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, everything has to move at a speedy rate.”

  Try not to panic; it’s better to get it over now than later. This was for Papa. I’d give anything for him to attain as much peace as possible before he departed from this life.

  With that in mind, purpose settled within. I mustered the courage to look Jared straight in the eye. “Where’s the ceremony taking place?”

  “Here,” he duly informed before his eyes diverted towards the garden below again. “It’s the securest place to be in. No word will get out.” He had thought of everything, as expected.

  “Of course.” It was no wonder his attention was fixated on the garden; he probably loathed the sight of it.

  “Thomas arranged tomorrow’s preparations, so there’s nothing for you to worry about except your dress.” He paused. “I’ve also invited my mother if you don’t mind.”

  His mother? I thought he had wished this to be a secret? Having her here would make it awkward, on my part, anyway. “Why would you do that?”

  “So she stops nagging me to get married. What else?” He shrugged. “Thought it better to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

  Rose won’t be meeting mommy dearest anytime soon, then…Jared would be leading a double life. Did he know what he was signing on for? Was he even up to the challenge?

  Rose. I had a feeling she’d be a thorn in my side very soon. My life sure wasn’t getting any easier. While my friends enjoyed the rest of summer, daydreaming about our first year in Stanford, my life, on the other hand, was far from exciting. At only eighteen, I was faced with problems I wasn’t sure I had the proper tools to fix. I dreaded what life at twenty-five would be like.

  I’m on the verge of losing my father, overwhelmed by my impending marriage, and the very image of my fake husband-to-be spending carnal nights with Rose left a sour taste on my tongue.

  The imperative word to continuously drill into my hazy, lovesick mind was fake—and don’t I dare ever forget it!

  “Papa wants us to join him for dinner at seven. Will that be good for you?” I straightened my stance, dejected, as I readied to leave him be.

  He glanced at his watch. “Sure. I have to stop at the headquarters for a little bit, but I’ll be back before dinner. Will that please you?” Vibrant blue eyes drew me in, holding me entranced.

  My throat ran dry. My sight flickered to his lips, and I unintentionally constricted my vaginal muscles. Oh, the things that pleased me…if only he knew. Well if he did know, he’d run for the hills. How was that for irony? “Whatever makes it easier for you, Jared,” I blandly said before readying to leave him in his reverie, but before I managed to take a step, he took hold of my arm, halting me altogether.

  Confused, my eyes snapped to his face where a soft smile tugged at his lips.

  “I think you and I will be fine, Gisele.” He gently placed a hand on my shoulder, pulling me close to him as he intently gazed down on me. Intense cerulean blues held me in place, momentarily rendering me stupid. “This is a difficult time for all of us. I want you to know I’m here for you, too. You can vent and air out all your worries; I won’t mind it at all.”

  My God, those powerful hypnotic eyes…I could drown in them forever.

  Things were falling apart around me, and yet, right this very moment, all I could focus on was how my body reacted to him in the most wanton, licentious manner.

  He then did the most unexpected, surprising me with a soft kiss on the forehead. “Ease up, you’re stiff as a board. You’re going to be my wife tomorrow, so you have to get used to me being close to you.”

  His wife. In name only. But still, something primal stirred within me when I heard him say his wife. Like I was some sort of property. Under normal circumstances, I was all for feminism and what not, but that didn’t apply where Jared was concerned. The thought of him manhandling me wasn’t appalling; it actually turned me on. So, what did that make me? You’re just like any other hormonal, oversexed eighteen-year-old woman.

  The soft brush of his lips against my skin, though innocent, engulfed me in flames. My groin tightened, fighting the deep arousal his scent and nearness did to my body.

  Stiff as a board, he said. I’m horny; can he not tell?

  “Maybe if you do it often, I’ll get used to your touch,” I said coyly before tapping him lightly on the shoulder, needing to immediately disengage before I said something idiotic, like begged him to alleviate the ache within me—yeah, that’d be disastrous. So it was best I retreated to my bedroom and pondered how I could ruin my already chaotic life some more. “Anyhow, have fun at work, my fake sexy fiancé.”

  I could feel his eyes on me as he watched me strut into my bedroom.

  For a second, I wondered how excruciating it’d be sleeping in the same bed with the man I was nuts and bolts about when I wouldn’t be able to touch him at all. It would be a nightmare. I could already feel the frustration permeating from my pores.

  Left to my own devices and in the safe confines of my bedroom, I took the liberty of calling for an emergency check-up. Since the ceremony wouldn’t be until noon tomorrow, anyway, I was pleased to slot the appointment at seven-thirty in the morning.

  With a few hours to burn until I’d get to see Papa again, I decided to call Blair but was sadly sent to her voicemail box.

  “Hey, it’s me. I’m back and Papa’s really ill. So, um, yeah, you guys have fun, and I’ll see you both when you’re back. If there are any changes, I’ll make sure to keep you guys updated. Miss and love you both.”

  Part of me ought to wonder what in God’s name happened to Jack, but I also didn’t want to know. Who had time to spare for a lying, cheating lowlife, anyway? If tomorrow’s results proved he was to be the father, then I might be singing a different tune. But for the time being, I was content with my decision.

  I let out a long drawn out sigh as I strode into my walk-in closet and stripped myself bare. A hot shower would temporarily calm my nerves. Unlike Blair’s opulent bedroom, mine was rather on the Spartan side. I liked the minimalist c
ontemporary designs, a preference I gained from my father. All white or all black scheme, or a combination of both, with a random hint of color in a form of a vase or a painting—I normally choose cerulean blue, crimson red, or eggshell yellow to contrast the monotonous design schematics. It made everything immaculately organized. Father once said that colors could sometimes distract one’s concentration; that was why he preferred his surroundings less stimulating.

  Once nude, I strode across the vast closet and stepped into the bathroom. But before showering, I took a moment to study myself in the three-paneled mirror, observing if there were any changes in my body. So far, there was none to be significantly noted. However, my mother didn’t see stark changes in her body until she was five months pregnant. Maybe my body was like hers. My breasts remained pert and full. My belly flat and my seemingly two-pack abs attained from swimming were still in place. My long blonde hair had natural silvery highlights due to the time spent under the sun. My tanned skin looked healthy and glowing. My silver eyes blazed, as if fire ignited within me, within my soul. There was sadness in there, too, but the blatant light shone in their depths couldn’t be denied. Thanks to Jared. All it took was a simple chaste kiss on my forehead, and the after effects of that one simple gesture went straight into my bones.

  Hopeless as always where Jared St. James was concerned. When would that die out? And if it wouldn’t…I was forever stuck in this sweet purgatory of my own making.

  Remember Rose? The woman he’s with? my mind irritatingly rebutted. Yeah, she’s getting all of him—lips, dick, and fingers. Do try not to forget that.

  “Get a grip, Gisele. It’s not real.” My shoulders slouched as I huffed out a pained sound. I shook my head as I walked into the shower. Thoughts of him rutting between Rose’s legs hurt more than I cared to admit. All I could do at this point was to better my craft at playing “I’m not crazy in love with Jared.”