The Virgin and Her Bodyguard

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

NOLIA

T he creak of the old wood floor in my bedroom makes my eyes spring open. I slide my hand under my pillow, and my fingers wrap around the handle of the knife. I’d placed it there before I went to bed last night, and now I’m grateful I have it.

“Lia.” The name my dad has called me since I was a little girl has me letting the knife go. “It’s only me.”

It’s not like my dad to just come into my room without knocking or calling my name first. “Is something wrong?” I sit up and turn on the light next to my bed. Only a small amount of light filters through my curtained window, and I can tell it's still early.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He never misses anything.

Dad is still wearing his robe and slippers. He always has to have something on his feet if he’s not in bed.

“Why don’t we have coffee first, Dad?”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

“You know what I mean,” I manage to say around a yawn.

“I’ll start breakfast.”

“Okay,” I agree, though I don't feel hungry at all. If I don't eat, it will raise more suspicions, and he’ll know for sure something is wrong. After all, breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. “No bacon or sausage,” I say and give him a pointed look. He grumbles under his breath but leaves my room.

I’m not going to fight like hell to get us out of here only for him to have a heart attack on me. Now that we've finally got his cholesterol levels under control, he believes he should be allowed to have cheat days.

Snatching my hair tie from off my dresser, I pile my hair on top of my head before I pull back the curtains to peek at the big house.

It took me forever to fall asleep last night. I’d so badly wanted to sneak back inside to see if Luca was okay. If Marco didn’t buy his story, for all I know, Luca could already be dead. At that thought, I let the curtains drop and rub the burn that lights in the center of my chest.

Why am I so concerned about a man who is only using me? Not that I’m any better. Technically I’m using him too, but I don’t want to go there. I rush through getting ready for the day, grabbing a pair of overalls and my favorite boots.

This is pretty much my standard outfit for work. I don’t put on a speck of makeup or do anything with my hair. I always end up putting a hat on anyway because it helps keep the sun off my face. It also plays down the fact that I’m a girl. I make every effort to blend in and avoid drawing attention from the men around here.

Dad has already placed our breakfast on the small dining table situated in a nook off the kitchen. My gaze once again strays through the bay windows toward the big house. Would they keep him in the guest quarters? If that’s where he ended up, I should tell him they are watched closely. I’m sure Luca already knows that. He didn’t make it this long in this world without being smart.

“Looking for something?” Dad asks, and I realize I wasn’t being as sneaky as I thought.

“Just seeing what the weather is going to be like today.” It’s not a total lie. I will be out there working all day, and I usually check before we leave.

“Eat.” Dad pulls out his chair and takes a seat. He lets out a small groan, and I know his knees are hurting him. By the end of the day, they will be killing him, and he’ll limp home. I hate it.

I take a seat next to him and pour the syrup over my pancake. “Have you ever thought about getting a job where you don’t have to move around so much?”

“No, my place is here.” I fight not to roll my eyes. “Lia, this is the life I’m used to.”

"Just because you're accustomed to something doesn't mean you should continue doing it." I shove a giant bite of pancake into my mouth. Not only does this prevent me from saying more, but as soon as I finish my plate, I can go check to see if Luca is around. Or I suppose I can wait for him to find me. I want to be in the garden, and he knows I work there. I don’t think he could come down to the cottage without someone taking notice.

“What else would I do?” I really wish I had an answer for that.

“I hate it here,” I half-whisper, not that I need to. My dad might be an older generation, but he knew to check for listening devices and hidden cameras. We can talk freely here.

“Lia.”

“Would I even be allowed to leave? Could we leave if we wanted to?” I ask.

My dad’s fork pauses almost to his mouth. Ah, so that’s the real reason. I had a feeling, but he’s never said that’s why.

“No one gets to leave.” I see the sorrow in his eyes when he says it. “I brought you into this, but I didn’t—” He lets out a sigh, cutting himself off. When people are part of this world, they can’t just walk away. I think he was partially wrapped up in something here before I’d taken my first breath. “This is how things are.”

“It’s okay, Dad.” I reach across the table and place my hand on top of his. “I’ll figure it out.”

When I go to pull my hand back, he snags me by the wrist, stopping me. “Lia, don’t get yourself mixed up in things.”

It’s far too late for that. “You know me, Dad.” I try to say it playfully. He stares at me for a long second, then releases my hand. We finish our breakfast in silence, and after I clean the dishes, I grab my hat and kiss him on the cheek.

“I’m headed out.”

“I’m serious, sweetheart.” My dad’s tone has now turned to pleading. “Keep yourself out of trouble.”

I stare at his lined face, and I swear over the past two years he’s aged so much. There’s barely any black on his head with all the gray that’s taken over. The worry around his eyes deepens.

This place is slowly draining the life out of him, and it will do the same to me.

If I let it.