“I don’t care why you left, Willow. There’s only one thing I care about and that’s getting your ass safely back to your father.” His voice is callous, uncaring. In this moment I realize that I don’t really know a thing about him, and that stings. I thought Duncan was my friend, but it just turns out that he’s my father’s minion.
“This is my life, not hi,” I spit out at him. Instead of allowing us to stay standing, he pulls me along with him until we’re merely a few feet away from the plane. “He doesn’t own me!”
“No, Kristof doesn’t. But he owns me.” Duncan hisses back towards me, “It’s my job to make sure you keep breathing, so do me a damn favor and get on the fucking plane.”
Chapter Five
Duncan
Being stuck on that jet with Willow for almost a day wasn’t my idea of relaxing. Matter of fact, nothing has really been that relaxing as of late. The moment we landed in London, the lot of us were nothing but exhausted. Even with that exhaustion, Willow still managed to look at me as if I were the devil reincarnate himself and gave me a rude awakening of sass. I was hopeful she’d be exhausted and wouldn’t speak. Too bad I wasn’t that lucky.
We made our way to Kristof’s townhouse and everyone was able to go to their own bedrooms to rest after our long travel. Kristof had someone meet Willow as soon as we were through the door and escort her to her bedroom. As for the rest of us, we were free to go about as we usually do. I know that the old man is keeping her under lock and key, and a tight one at that.
I’d had shit sleep after we got back home. It seemed that I’d only be lucky enough to get just a few hours of shut eye. I might be anxious. Why, I’m not really sure. It could just be the fact that we’re back here and Willow knows who I work for, that not everything I said to her was the truth. Oddly enough, it hurts. I’ve always been in the business of security, but this time it’s different. Where I usually wouldn’t care so much on what a client thinks – I do when it comes to Willow. I don’t want her to view me as this rude person who doesn’t give a damn about her and only cares about the job. Because that’s not who I am. I care so much about her, too much if I’m being honest with myself.
I make my way down the stairwell after I’ve had a quick shower and make myself ready for the day. Normally I’d head straight into the kitchen for some coffee, but I feel like the need to talk to Kristof is more urgent than my cup of joe fix.
I know where he’ll be. It’s where he always is at this hour. In front of his laptop in his study, doing whatever it is that he does. Even after being here for years, I still don’t know the entirety of his title. I just know not to piss the fucker off.
I knock lightly on the wooden door and wait to hear some sort of signal that it’s okay to come in. After a moment, I hear his voice and enter the room, shutting the door securely behind me. “Domn,” I greet him coolly. “How are you?”
“Save the politeness for later, Duncan. I know you’ve come in here for a reason, so spit it out.” Kristof knows me well, and for that I’m grateful. Pussyfooting around this isn’t what I want to do, but if I have to then I’d make that sacrifice to get the information I need.
“I’d like to know my role now that I’m back home, Sir,” I say to him, placing my hands behind my back, waiting for his orders. He looks even more frail than before I left. There’s no doubt in my mind that the man is on his deathbed and doing everything that he can to cover it up. I can make out every bone in his jaw and neck. He must’ve lost at least thirty pounds in the last few months.
“Your job is the same. You will be assigned to protecting Willow. She will always be your task, Duncan. I’d have no other man do it, but I’m sure now that she’s back here you have seen how difficult your job will be. Australia was a walk in the park for you. In London…my daughter is…very…unpredictable.”
I nod, accepting what he’s told me. “Then I think it’s past time that you tell me about her life. I knew Willow as the bakery shop owner, not Willow as your daughter. There were things in her file, but so much was blacked out. I need to know about that information. The things that you didn’t want me to know at first.”
Kristof swallows. I can tell he is thinking about what it is that I’ve asked for, debating on whether or not I need to know this information. He’ll soon realize that I do, that he can’t keep her past private anymore. “I met Willow’s mother when I was out…conducting business. I shouldn’t have stayed at that event, or even so much as looked her way, but I did. And in doing so, I was given my youngest daughter, a blessing. Especially now when all of her siblings are gone…Anyway, I am sure you know that I was married at the time to my now ex-wife, Clarissa. When I found out Willow’s mother was pregnant with her, I told Clarissa everything. She was furious, but knew that I needed to be involved in her life, and I was, to an extent. Willow was well provided for her entire childhood, but when she was thirteen, the unexpected happened, and her mother was diagnosed with cancer. She only lasted a few months before she passed, and with her death, our entire world was turned upside down. Willow had lived with us for a short period, but mixing our families wasn’t the smartest decision. Clarissa and I had made the decision together at that point to send Willow off to boarding school.”
He pauses for a moment, and my mind spins, unable to fathom how he could send his child who’d just lost everything…away. The one thing she needed then would’ve been support, not to be exiled. “She ended up staying there and graduating. In the time that she was away, she fell in love. Long story short, her boyfriend was killed after they graduated and before they were to go off to University. I blame myself for that. For all of it really, for her unhappiness, her guilt, her pain. It all falls on my shoulders. Every single ounce of it. Your job is simple, Duncan. You’ll do everything in your power to ensure that my daughter takes her seat as Clan leader when I pass. It’s the only option. She has to continue our legacy. Willow has a great responsibility, one that she can’t even fully comprehend yet. You need to be there, by her side when I am gone and guide her through it. You’re the only man that I trust with her. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now that she is back home I need to get to work and find her a suitable Romanian husband. She’ll need a strong man to guide her through these changes, one who knows how we operate.”
I clench my jaw hearing him say what he has. Willow may need a strong man, but what he doesn’t need to be is Romanian. I’m strong enough for her, and Kristof knows that. The only thing that I’m not is Romanian, and that’s what he wants. He doesn’t want an American with his daughter. Shit. What am I even doing thinking like this? It’s not like she even wants to be with me. Especially now.
Chapter Six
Willow
It feels weird, in fact, even weirder than weird to be back here, if that’s even a thing. It’s almost like I’m having some out of body experience. As if I’m actually in a movie theater watching my life play before my eyes. I know it’s real, but at the same time, it feels like it can’t be real. I guess that just means that I’m in shock. Shock that I’m back in London, in my father’s townhome. Father…if that’s even what I can call him. He’s more of a sperm donor, a very rich and dangerous sperm donor.
Through my entire life I never could figure out where my place was in his. Until the day that I did, it was much simpler then I thought. Turned out I was overthinking it, per usual. There was never a place for me in his life and there would never be. I’m the bastard child he never planned for, a child he had out of wedlock with a woman who was much his junior. It wasn’t about her age, though, her race had a major factor in how our relationship has always been. He was the type of father who paid for things and showed up the few times a year where he felt it mattered. I didn’t need a birthday or Christmas, Dad. I needed an actual Dad. One that I could call for advice, or lean on his shoulder when I needed it. I never had that with him, and I know that I never will.
I glance around my bedroom, one
that I haven’t seen in years, and take in a deep breath. There are so many memories here, and awful ones at that. It hasn’t changed a bit. The same deep green wallpaper runs across the space, a beautiful tree fans out over the length of the wall. A Willow. My father had told me as a child that this was my room, so it would be deemed fitting of my name. He took that to heart, or so his decorator did.
I get up and take a look at my phone shocked when I see that it’s well into the afternoon. Jetlag will do that to you, though, I suppose. I don’t rush one bit as I check my wardrobe, and when I open it, I can’t say that I’m shocked. It’s fully stocked, which tells me that my dear Father has planned on me being home for quite a while. I grab a pair of black slacks, dark blue top and head into the en-suite bathroom to take a shower before I go downstairs and speak to Voldemort himself. I need to have a clear head and a shower should help me with that a bit I think. There’s no easy way to see your father again after years in any circumstance, but when your circumstances are mine…well, I’d say that makes it a little messy.
No sooner than I’m out of the shower with a towel around my head, a loud rap comes to my door. “Domn is requesting to speak with you, Miss. Adame.”
I roll my eyes and huff at whomever is on the other side of the door. “It’s Kim!”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a Kim, not an Adame,” I growl. I’ve always gone by my mother’s last name, never have I gone by my father’s. It put a target on my back so to speak even when I was a child, but for different reasons. My siblings didn’t really care for me much, so my personal business was spread around town pretty quickly, and even when I was going to my school before Mum died, I was being bullied horribly.
I take the towel off my head, tossing it on the floor below me. For a split second I think about changing into the slacks and blue shirt I pulled out of the wardrobe, but fuck it. I’m not in the mood. In fact, I’m in the mood to be comfortable, and so I shall. I walk over to the wardrobe and pull open a drawer, it’s filled with pajamas. I simply grab a pair and slide the bad boys on before I go to the door of my room and open it. Much to my surprise, my father’s goon is still here. “He’s waiting for me in the study I assume,” I say clearly as I get a nod in confirmation from his man.
I enter the hallway and make my way down the grand staircase, turning sharply until I approach his study. Not bothering to knock, I waltz right in. If he wants to see me this badly he’ll stop whatever it is that he’s doing. He’s inconvenienced me – literally ripped me from the life I’d built for myself in Australia. From my fucking bakery. Asshole.
“What do you want?” I hiss out in as lethal as a tone that I can muster up. I want him to know just how unhappy I am to be here. I don’t give a damn if what Duncan said is the truth. Even if those men were there to kill me, at least I’d be happy and dead instead of alive and angry. What kind of life am I truly going to live if I only feel like a prisoner? Can someone answer that question for me?
“For starters, I’d love to know how you’ve been.” His voice is shaky, and he coughs near the end into a tissue. I didn’t take a good look at him until now. He’s in a wheelchair, some sort of motorized one at that. He’s very thin, so thin that I can see his bones in his cheeks and down his neck as well. Is he ill? He’d never been this thin before, always has been the type of man to snag two biscuits with his tea instead of one. If I remember correctly, he had a good pot belly before I left for Australia.
“Save me the luxuries. I’ve been surviving and doing a damn good job at it. Get to your point. You nor I want to waste time, Father.”
He chuckles lightly before it turns into a coughing fit, “I suppose you’re correct. Time is of the essence.”
I walk further into the room before he looks up at me and lifts his hand. “Shut the door, will you? This is a conversation we best have in private.” For some reason I don’t find the urge to argue with him. Almost like I know whatever is coming isn’t good, so I turn around and shut the door before I turn my attention back to him. “I’m dying, Willow, it could be tomorrow, a week from now, or maybe, if I’m lucky, a month. There have been obvious threats against you for quite a while which is why I had Duncan, Marcos, and Harris watching you these past few months. All of my children have been killed because of their affiliation with the Clans, and I would be damned if I let something happen to you as well. It’s my one job on this Earth to protect you, so I’d do anything in my power to make sure you’re safe. It’s why I let you go to Australia, because given the circumstances at that time…you flying across the world was the safest thing for you to do. Now we’ve come to a point where things are tricky. My condition has been made aware to the fellow clan leaders, our King and Queen know that I could die at any given moment, and thanks to Mariana, the Queen of the Clans…there have been recent changes to the hierarchy. Before, your husband would assume all power even though you’d be the reason he had it in the first place. Now women are given equal power as the men are, only when you marry your husband will help you rule your Clan. You are the only heir to the Adame Clan, Willow. I know this is something you’ve never asked for, but regardless, it is your duty. You are my daughter, and you must take this from me.”
“I must not do anything,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I’m a pastry chef. I bake. I own a bloody bakery. I am not a mafia queen!”
“No, you are not a queen. You are a princess, poppet. If I had the option of keeping you from having to take this power, I would, but we don’t have an option. I’m dying, Willow. There are no other Adames alive. Our clan will not die with me. It will continue with you. You will make sure things are done the right way. Willow…I know we have not had the best relationship, but you will make them see the new world for what it is. I see you being friends with Mariana and bringing light into an old world. I see you creating change, the type of change that we need. I am only sad that I will not be here to witness it.”
“I am not the woman you think I am,” I strongly tell him. He doesn’t even know me. Granted, he was never around enough to get to know me.
“Yes, you are. You’re more than I imagined you to be, and before you start losing your mind, calm down. I have thought this through, and I only feel comfortable with you taking the seat as Clan leader with a strong Romanian man by your side. You need to get married as soon as possible. I would never allow you to go in blind. You will have someone beside you who knows how we operate and conduct our business.”
I blink my eyes, eyeballs almost shooting out of my head. “Excuse me. What did you just say?”
“You won’t be doing this alone.”
“No, you informed me that I’ll be getting married.”
“Yes, you will. To a Romanian man, preferably one from a head clan. Maybe a younger brother, but someone who understands how things are done.”
I shake my head back and forth. “Do you realize that you just contradicted yourself? You told me how you believe I will lead the change that needs to happen amongst the clans alongside Mariana and yet you tell me that I must marry a Romanian man. How is there any change in that? How is that not something we would have done in the past? I don’t have to do anything, and I most certainly don’t have to get married to someone who is used to old ways. If you truly want me to be a part of change, Father then you need to accept change in the first place.” I stare at him sternly before I walk out of the study and go through the halls of the home I once called mine. This is all so much to take in and I need the breather.
Chapter Seven
Duncan
I make my way down the cobblestone streets towards the one place that gives me some solace. After a rough day I’ve always come here, and brought some of the men I work with when I know they’ve been struggling. The Red Lion is a low key pub here in London. It may be located in one of the busiest cities in the world, but once you walk through those doors, you feel like you’ve walked into another realm. The lights are dim, the music is barely noticeable, and everyone insid
e keeps to themselves. The only people you hear talking are the ones at the bar, speaking to the barmaid. Even in the States we don’t have bars like this. We mainly have sports bars, where everyone gets as drunk and rowdy as they can when their football team is losing. That’s the one thing I miss about America – Football.
I place my hand on the iron door handle and pull it forward, walking into the pub. I head straight towards the booth I always sit at and order a Guinness. It’s actually quite normal for me to be here a couple nights a week, usually how I relax and unwind. All in all, almost every aspect of my life is the same. Well, besides one thing. Now, I’m watching Willow, and she knows that I am.
James walks in through the front door and approaches the booth I’m seated at, taking a seat directly across from me. He also works for Kristof, and truthfully, he’s one of my close friends. “Long time no see,” he greets, lifting his chin at me.
“Same to you. I thought you’d be there to greet me, bastard,” I cheekily joke. James has become much like a brother to me over the years.
He orders his beer, and we sit chatting about pointless shit for well over an hour. He’s updated me on everything gossip-like that’s happened in London amongst the other guys and the women they’ve been seeing. I swear these men are worse than anyone back home, and I grew up in Miami. Men fucked anything they saw walking down the street, but the lot of these men are so much worse.
James leans his arms across the table, places his hand along his chin, and grins. “Now, you can’t tell me that you didn’t get down under her.”
“I didn’t,” I admit honestly.
“But you wanted to.” He raises his eyebrows as he says it, and I shrug my shoulders. Just because he’s my friend doesn’t mean that he gets to know everything about me, or my desires. You’d have to be a blind man to not want Willow; blind or dumb.
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