SWNOVELS Bossy Bodyguard: Part 1 – Chapter 13
“So, whose party was it?” I asked, changing the gear and taking a turn while Caleb kept looking out of the window. I could smell the weed and beer on him. His eyes were bloodshot, hair ruffled, and he was still wearing the suit he had worn that morning.
“Don’t know.” He shrugged, not sparing me a glance. “I just went there to get high.”
My jaw clenched. “And where’s your car?”
“At E—” He stopped whatever he was saying and straightened up. “It’s safe. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
God, how fucking hard is it to have a conversation with my own son?
“Where were you?” he asked, flickering his eyes at me for a moment. “You shaved and dressed up. Date?”
“No,” I scoffed, tugging at the collar of my shirt. “I was at a club. I’m too old to date someone.” Definitely too old for someone like Emma. I thought bitterly.
He stayed quiet for a moment, staring at his lap before whispering, “Mom would’ve liked you to be happy.”
My hand loosened on the steering wheel as I blinked at the road. Clearing my throat, I said, “I’m happy.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.”
He just had to bring Olivia up.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I changed the subject. “How’s your girlfriend doing?” I asked. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the funeral this morning.”
Caleb scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
I frowned, knowing that he was in a relationship with her for the longest time. Even though he never told me her name or brought her home for dinner, even after I asked him several times, I knew he liked her. Maybe even more than like. “What happened? Did you guys break up?”
“Yeah, kind of,” he shrugged. “I fucked up, and she’d rather skin me alive than talk to me.”
I winced. “Sounds sweet.”
Glancing at him, I noticed how his shoulders were slumped, his eyes glazed. I clearly didn’t want to talk to him about his recent breakup while he was high as a kite, but these days, we rarely saw each other.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
His brown eyes slid towards me and he let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Now you want to play Dad. It’s a bit too late, don’t you think so?”
His tone made me furious yet guilty, remorse making me feel shittier than I already was. I knew I wasn’t there when he needed me, but I had tried. I have been trying for the past few years.
Caleb couldn’t wait to get out of the car as soon as we reached home, leaving me alone as I glared at the garage. I had achieved everything I wanted, but my son hated me and my wife was six feet under the ground.
I got out of the car and checked my phone, thinking about the golden blonde hair and warm skin that smelt like vanilla. Her soft warm fingers holding my scarred hand. I hoped she was okay and her brother was looking after her.
“I told you already, I’m done.” I took a deep breath before clenching my fingers on the deadlift rod and pushed, its weight burning my arms and chest as I did ten more reps.
“This client is old money, Cillian,” Elena, my ex-boss and also a Sheikha of Azmia, spoke through the phone on speaker. “And the case is worth looking at. They’d really appreciate your help.”
I grunted when I placed the rod back on the support, glaring at the ceiling light of my home gym. “You know how I feel about rich clients, Elena.”
She was quiet for a moment and said, “What if I told you she really needs your help?”
“She?”
“Yes. Her mom just died, and this is too serious to pass it on to someone else. Besides, she lives in Coral Springs to—Zayed! Put that thing down. Now.” Her voice was sharp and I could hear her husband saying something in a taunting voice. My heart clenched at the sound of their teasing banter. “I’m sorry, Cillian. As I was saying, she lives in Coral Springs.”
I ran a hand across my face and couldn’t believe myself when I said, “Fine, I’ll check the case. I’m not agreeing to it, but if you think it’s worth looking at, then I’ll go meet her.”
“Thank you, C—I’m sorry, I’ve got to cut our call short.” I heard someone shriek before her phone hung up.
Dammit. I just had to agree to another case when I said the previous one was my last one. I didn’t need any more money than I already had. Raking a hand through my hair, I sighed, knowing I would probably take the case if Elena thought it was worth helping the client.
In half an hour, I had showered, got dressed in my usual dark pants and shirt, and had breakfast sitting on the kitchen island. I had knocked on Caleb’s door, but he didn’t respond even though I had made haejang-guk soup to cure him from his hangover.
I looked up the address of the house, sighing when it showed a vast vintage mansion. Driving there didn’t take much time. The weather was slowly cooling up in the morning, but the sunlight still felt warm and airy. It was a beautiful day. In another era, I’d have liked to take someone on a brunch date. But I neither had any companion, nor did my son want to see me.
My car came to a halt as I saw the huge black iron gate topped with spikes. I lowered my sunglasses when a man who looked like a guard knocked on my tinted window.
“You can’t go in. The owner has specified that only cops and the house staff are allowed.”
“I’m Cillian.” I showed him my ID. “The detective Elena Hill Al Fasih sent.”
His eyes were wide when he passed me back my ID and bowed his head. “You can go in, Sir.”
I pushed the glasses back over the bridge of my nose and drove towards the driveway, circling the sculptured fountain. My polished shoes scrunched when I stepped out of the car, buttoning my suit and straightening my cufflinks. The mansion was bigger than I had anticipated. Despite the security at the front gate, there were no cameras or security measures taken if someone—a robber, for example—decided to climb through the low levelled floors and get in through any open windows on the first floor.
I had to wait for exactly twenty-two seconds after pressing the doorbell. My glasses were hanging on my shirt, my eyes drifting from the black roses in the vase to the person who opened the double doors.
It was an old woman, dressed in black, with a low bun and a small smile.
“I’m Cillian. Elena asked me—”
She stepped aside, welcoming me in. “We are glad you could come. Both of them have been waiting for you.” There was a huge chandelier on the ceiling, two staircases dividing the mansion into two wings. “Please, Mr. Cillian, follow me.”
Sliding a hand in my pocket, I followed the woman, noticing the emptiness of pictures. There was lots of art—huge paintings framed on the walls, sculptures, expensive decorations, but there were no photos of any pets or children. Even though the interior was sleek and vintage, it felt like it was copied from a yearly architectural magazine that only rich people read.
It didn’t feel human.
“You have to talk to them—”
My feet didn’t slow down when I heard a familiar voice coming from a guest room near the kitchen.
“I told you, I don’t want to talk to anyone.” The same soft feminine voice. “I want to go to Mia’s house. Or Summer’s. I’m fine.”
“Sir, Ma’am,” the woman announced, walking into the room, my eyes going from the annoyed look of Damon to the scared, nervous look of Emma. “This is the detective Miss Elena sent. His na—”
I took a step closer, eyeing the siblings and how Emma shook underneath the blanket she was curled in. “I’m Cillian. Nice to see you again, Emma.”