Chapter 9
Stupid me, thinking things might be a little different now. Like if Dad isn't around, I can have a bit of freedom for once. I mean, in whose world does an employee not slack off at least a little when they're miles away from their boss? Apparently, in mine.
No, I have the bad luck of getting stuck with the last Boy Scout or whatever the hell Zeke thinks he is. Like he's got to earn brownie points. I'm sure he'll deliver daily reports, too. I wonder if he has to track the times I go to the bathroom and the outcome.
My arm still aches from the way Zeke gripped it as we roll up in front of a building that looks more like a spa or a fancy hotel than an apartment building. "This is it?" I mutter to myself as we pull past a series of meticulously maintained topiaries and a marble fountain shooting water high into the air. It sparkles like diamonds before dropping into the pool surrounding it.
"What? Not nice enough for you?"
"Did I say that? Tell me when I said that." All he does is snicker. "I didn't expect it to be this nice. That's what I meant. It seems like a lot for a college freshman."
"Nothing's too good for the princess."
"Would you stop calling me that? You know damn well I didn't live like this before my mom died." And just the thought of her tightens my throat. What would she think of all this? Probably that it's too much. I know she wanted the best for me, but I didn't earn any of it. That would tell a different story to her.
"Don't act like your life didn't get better."
It's my turn to snicker. "So did yours. Or were you living in a palace like this before I came along?"
He grunts but doesn't argue, which means I'm right. It's not exactly easy to get the last word with him, so I take it as a victory, especially after he humiliates me at the gas station.
I can't even have a phone my father doesn't monitor. I know he has access somehow, and I know he'll continue to even though I'm away at college.
It's funny in a sad way. I know my best friend, Blair, thinks I've got it made, like having all this money is a huge win or whatever. And yes, it is in a lot of ways. I don't have to worry about getting a job to support myself, for one thing.
But when she goes to school, she'll have a life of her own. No guardian watching her every second. No being spied on or having her phone calls tracked. It would be heaven compared to what I have ahead of me.
Dad was right about everything being moved in and set up by the time we arrived. There's a full set of living room furniture, a big TV, and even artwork on the walls. It's all kind of bland, but I'd rather it be bland than tacky or over the top.
The kitchen's amazing, too. I wonder if I'll have enough time to do any cooking because the shiny appliances and gleaming, untouched pots and pans are practically begging to be used. The fridge is fully stocked and looks like something from a high-end supermarket.
What I'm most interested in is the room where I'll probably end up spending most of my time. The bedroom is huge, with an en suite bathroom—thank God for that. I was worried about having to share a bathroom with the asshole whose bedroom is across from mine. From what I can see through the open door, it's practically identical to this one.
Although would it be so bad if he caught me coming out of the shower? Or vice versa?
Damn it. I need to get him out of my system, or else things will only get worse. It's awkward and painful enough to face him already, especially when he makes little remarks like he did earlier. We both know I don't hate him —who the fuck says that? Oh, right, ignorant dickheads who think they're better than me because… why? Because he gets paid to follow me around like a dog? If I were him, I wouldn't be too full of myself.
"Princess? You okay in there?" He pokes his head into the room and looks around. "Nice. Big bed. Mine, too."
"Good for you." I turn around to where my suitcases are left. The one thing I wouldn't give an inch on was unpacking my clothes. Sorry, but I don't love the idea of total strangers handling my underwear.
When I explain it that way to my dad, he gets it. Like all he cares about is keeping me pure, making sure no man ever so much as sees my panties. It's almost bizarre.
And pointless. If he wants me to stay a virgin for the rest of my life, he should've sent me to a convent. Or to a cabin on top of a mountain. Instead, I'm at college, and there are how many guys here? Guys my age who want to drink and party and have sex.