Forever Distraction (Distraction #3) (11 page)

****

The next day was spent with Gracey. All I wanted was to crawl back into bed and pull the sheets over my head. I still felt sick and achy all over. I even lost my urge to run and tease Smith. I had an event to attend that evening with my father, so a group of women came in and took turns making me presentable.

I arrived on time
; my father, dressed in a black tux, perfect in his appearance in every way, swept me from the limo he had sent for me. Smith was in his usual grumpy mood, and insisted he travel in the same vehicle as me. The driver eventually caved, even though he was told no one was to accompany me. He took one look at Smith and cowered, which only gave Smith more power, telling the driver to be conscious of the following SUV.

We
entered the ballroom, my father directly at my side, and my three bodyguards trailing behind us.

“You are very pretty tonight
, Katarina.” My father’s compliment was stiff, and it did the opposite of lift me up. Even his nice words twisted knots in my stomach. I hated his cold, authoritative voice. He led me around the room, stopping and talking to only people of his same class, surgeons, and hospital board members, introducing me like he was a proud father. “This is my Katarina,” he would say, and I would give whomever my fake smile. We moved about the room and I started to devise my exit strategy. I excused myself after about forty minutes at my father’s side, and told him I had to use the powder room.

I
wandered around trying to keep an eye on the exits. People found ways to talk to me; I became dizzy, lost in the abyss of socialites, and everything merged into a blur. My brother Brian appeared before me, and I was never so excited to see him before. He pulled me to the bar and I perched on a seat next to him, continuing to focus on my escape.

“Planning your exit?”
he said to me before ordering our drinks.

“Yes
,” I answered simply.

He thanked the bartender and turned
toward me, taking a long drink of his beverage before demanding, “Tell me.”

I
flashed him a sweet smile. “Okay, I think the obvious exit choice is the main entrance, but Smith is blocking that, and he looks extra cranky tonight. The balcony is my next choice; I know we are on the second floor, but I can climb down or jump off and take my chances.”  I watched as two of my bodyguards moved to stand next to the balcony. “I know Smith has me bugged, and I probably have a tracker drilled into my skull.”

“Where to?
If you escape, where are you going?” There was silence as he took another drink. “Back to the animal guy?  Was he good to you?” He scanned the room, making it easier for me to talk about Jason, a person I hadn’t mentioned in a week.

It was funny how normal he was with me
, no signs of anger toward me at all. I liked this Brian. “I don’t know. I mean, if he walked through those doors right now, I would probably go to him.”

He swirled his drink and I sipped mine
; it was water. Of course, my brother would order the blandest thing for me, knowing I was the blandest person. “He came to see me the other day,” he said, with his eyes locked on mine, and my heart began to beat rapidly. “He said he’s sorry. He wanted ten minutes with you to explain. He told me things you told him, Katarina.” His voice had grown fierce, but I didn’t respond. “He wants you to call him. Oh, and he said you told him you loved him.” I felt tears surface in my eyes, and I choked them down and turned away from my brother. It was quiet for a long time while we just sat there.

I finally budged
. “I heard a song on the radio the other day. I really liked it. ‘
Brave’
I think the title was.”

He smiled
, relieved in the change of topic. “Sara Bareilles…I like that song too.” He talked to me a little about her, giving me other great songs she sang, and I was grateful for the lighthearted conversation.

W
e were told it was time to return to the dining room, and Brian put his arm out for me to take it, so I did, happy to have my brother back. We found my father and I sat beside him, Brian sitting directly across from me. Dinner was served, and I moved my fancy food around my plate. I heard a female voice through all the male voices, and I looked up to see a pretty, brown-haired woman leaning into my brother. She was now whispering in his ear. He was annoyed; I could tell. His stare was straight ahead at me, and his nostrils flared a little. She touched the fork he was holding, then ran her finger up his hand and arm and I saw him flinch, right before he grabbed her hand and told her to leave. A smile spread across my face, and he returned my knowing look.

“You know
, Bri, you seem a little uptight.” I was provoking him; I knew it, and it felt great. He watched me and then looked to his plate. I saw him reach for a grape and a cube of cheese from one of the centerpieces. It reminded me of our food fights when we were kids. He would get angry and try to make me cry by throwing food at me, except we would only end up laughing. We never got caught; the servants always cleared the mess before our parents came home. I reached up the table and grabbed my own supply of grapes and cheeses. I gave him his smug smile back, nodding my head, telling him to bring it on. “Make it good,” I mouthed.

That was when I felt it
—the cold, stiff hand on the back of my neck. My father’s hand squeezed, and I shut off every feeling and emotion. My face fell, my arms went limp, my breathing was controlled and steady, and I counted silently. I hated when my father put his hands on me. Everything went dark for me in an instant, and it felt like long moments passed before I could hear or see anything but black. My chair started to move from behind me, but the hand on my neck just gripped tighter.

“Ms. Covington,
it’s time to leave; you have other appointments.” It was Smith’s voice. He grabbed my elbow to help me up, and then I heard in a really loud cold voice, “Dr. Covington, if you would, remove your hand from your daughter’s neck.” The room went silent and I was suddenly released.

I walked away from the table with Smith’s hand still on my
upper arm. I peeked up to see Brian by the door and was surprised. I didn’t stop walking as we passed him. He nodded at Smith and said, “Thanks,” then gave me a sad smile. I slid onto my seat in the SUV, the Smiths took their places, and we drove away. Smith reached over, plucked some barrettes from my hair, put them in his pocket, and then turned to face his window.

The next morning
, the plane took off. I was surprised to see Brian and my father on the plane. Brian said he was checking it out from the business standpoint, but I was sure there was some hidden agenda. The stewardess must not have gotten the memo it was
my
plane we were flying in, because she flirted relentlessly with my brother and father the entire flight. It was disgusting, disturbing, and I was growing tired of trying to ignore it, so when she slipped off her panties and handed them to Brian, I lost it. I verbally came unglued. Needless to say, I fired her on the spot, reminding everyone on board the plane that they worked for me. For the remainder of the flight, everyone referred to me instead of the males present. Brian leaned into me after it grew quiet again and asked if he had to give the panties back. I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me, but it didn’t work. My father enjoyed it though; his laughter echoed across the entire plane.

I thought it would feel better
than this to fire someone—God knows I have wanted to for days—but it didn’t. Maybe it was because I was firing the wrong person. I thought back to when I arrived and how bad I wanted to fire the family accountant. I asked Smith for my phone and called him. After a brief introduction, I fired him too. My only regret was the drama. I was so irritated by all of it I blew up, exploded, erupting into a first class bitch. It was the first time I lost control in front of my father and brother. When I was finished, their eyes were large and there was no laughter. My vocalized anger was new, and I hated the way I felt afterwards; I needed to find a better way to control it.

The day flew by
. We went to the new school and I read books to a handful of classrooms. I took a lot of pictures. My father made an effort to walk next to me, but I ignored him. It felt forced, and I hated being forced to do anything. I knew Smith didn’t like him at all by the way he purposely blocked him from me. By dinner, I was done with people and talking. I snuck away after—well, I tried to anyway. There were so many males, and all of them in protective mode. When I got up to my hotel suite, I closed the door behind me, and it immediately started to rumble with knocking. When I opened it, all three Smiths came pouring in. I moved quickly to my bedroom, and closed and locked that door.

I wrote a letter to Jason
; for some reason, he was on my mind a lot, and I wanted him to move on, to forget about me. I tried to explain how I’d moved on from him, but I’m sure I was unsuccessful at it. I opened the door, handed it to one of the Smiths, and asked him to mail it overnight.

It was crazy, the things you do to blend in, or maybe I was crazy for attempting to in the first place. Three whole days I went without talking. It started off as a game, but then brazen curiosity took over and I wondered if it mattered if I spoke. You know how they say ‘be careful what you wish for’? Well, that was me, the crazy girl not talking, and wishing I could blend in like I used to. Instead, it backfired; turned out people liked me better when I just stood and looked pretty. It was a different kind of invisible; people knew who I was and constantly judged me, sending me non-verbal messages that I was juvenile and too young to hold the power I had. Basically, rather than blending in to the scenery and remaining hidden, I was labeled a spoiled little rich girl, throwing a silent treatment, attention-seeking tantrum.

I thought about other ways to deal with my frustration-slash-boredom.
It was either not talk, or speak in metaphors, which would completely piss Smith off, so I would definitely have to try it. Right now though, I was utterly silent, and I was curious how long I could go without actually speaking. We had traveled from Louisiana to New York, and now we were back in Los Angeles walking around one of the proposed projects, men everywhere sizing up the place and spouting off possible ideas. Brian was in the center of it. He had an assistant scribbling down notes, while he snapped a few photos. I just observed, like the quiet girl I grew up to be.

Moving away from the herd
, I took out the camera my grandfather bought me years before and began capturing my own pictures. The school that stood in place was no longer useable. It was condemned and needed a complete overhaul. The city closed it down after a fire started and claimed the lives of children and teachers. It gave me chills to think about the unsuspecting people who were trapped inside while the large fire consumed the building and crushed the school.

My brother finished with the men and moved back to the SUV that waited for us. I knew he had other
business to attend to. He had been glued to his computer since we left California. He reminded me of my grandfather in so many ways. He didn’t speak much either, but what he did say was heard loud and clear. Brian made things happen; he was a doer. I respected him more and more.

I took my time gathering my own information
. Where was the most damage to the school? Where could the people inside retreat to in case of another emergency?  I studied the play area and the fields for baseball and basketball. I took pictures of the surrounding rundown housing and apartments in the area, trying to gauge the needs of the residents who lived close by. My brother’s hand on my elbow interrupted my investigation process. “It’s time to leave, Kat.”

I narrowed my eyes
, calling him nonverbally, ‘Mr. Bossy Man’.
Who invited him anyway?
I yanked my arm away from his hold and bit my tongue. He raised his hands up dramatically in an ‘I surrender’ kind of way because of my jerky movement, and then sidestepped around me. My eyes fixed on his shiny, Italian, black shoes.

“What’s your deal
, Kat?” he hissed, and I wanted to mimic his statement so bad it physically hurt. I fisted my hands at the sides of my black dress and shuffled my feet behind him.

When we reached the large
, black vehicle, he stepped back, allowing me to get in. Owen and Father Nickels sat up front with Smith Three, and Smith Two was positioned at the other door. Brian eased in next to me and wedged me between him and my father. I lifted my head to scan the faces around me, making a mental note to take my own vehicle next time. The look on the impatient males around me made my breathing speed up as the head of my angry twin begged me to step aside and let her set these arrogant men straight. I was in charge, this was
my
foundation now, and
my
money was pouring into this project. I stuffed all of my furious pride down like it was my lunch and I was full from it, and then I gazed into the eyes of the self-important, pretentious people around me and flashed a practiced smile.

This
is my last day with them
, I repeated in my head. My plan was to return to Washington in a couple days and take care of my grandfather’s belongings. What these men thought of me made no difference; I felt the same way about them. It was amusing; if my grandfather was here, he would have guarded me from their spiteful looks, but I rather enjoyed that they were bothered by me. I stuck my chin up, looked over my brother’s computer toward the window, and watched the scenery change.

Conversation flowed around me like I wasn’t there
. I even heard talk about women they ‘screwed’ from the night before, which I found extremely rude and couldn’t help the glare I gave to the construction owner giving us his gory details. He didn’t stop; instead, he turned toward my father and asked him if he was going to the club tonight, reminding him it was the last night of a three-day Halloween celebration. He eyed me, attempting to intimidate me the entire time he spoke to my father. It was his way of putting me in my place in this male dominated world. I wondered for a moment why my father didn’t speak up and defend me, or point out my presence, but then I remembered my father was just like him.

I bit my lips together
, fighting the angry twin, because this man, this arrogant, ill-mannered, crude man was getting on my last nerve. I balled my hands and clamped down harder on my lips, causing refreshing pain to blossom around my face, just to avoid the harsh words of disapproval that were dying to spill out, and I glared at him. My eye twitched, and I pictured gluing his mouth shut, because he continued to monopolize the conversation while staring me head-on, nonverbally telling me to fuck off, bow down, or whatever submissive way he fantasized I would indulge him.

When the vehicle finally
pulled over and stopped, I pushed past Brian, eager to exit the car first. I smoothed my dress, calming myself, counting…and then went for a little walk, my security team scurrying behind me. I only heard grunts with an underlying ‘hold up’, but I was irritated, pissed, and trapped, and the thought of sitting with these people any longer grated on my mind and my nerves.

“Ms. Covington, please wait.” I
didn’t. I figured if my voice couldn’t be heard, neither could theirs. Smith’s firm hand grabbed my arm, gaining control over my temporary escape. “They have reservations for lunch, Ms. Covington. Don’t make them wait again.”

I eyed him slowly
, confused by Smith and his motives. I could normally calculate someone’s purpose, but not with Smith. He didn’t need a job, and he already had two daughters and a doting wife at home, so he didn’t need family. I thought back to the night four months ago when I left. I used my old bodyguard, found out he really wanted to be on the beach somewhere surfing and I made his dream come true. He disappeared the same day as me. I gave him a nice bonus for removing the
five
GPS devices Smith had hidden throughout my Mercedes.

I deceived Smith by letting him believe I was asleep, but it was
actually Heather. She wore a black wig and slept in my bed that night. She met me in the morning at Smith’s daughter’s school. I slipped his daughter my iPod in return for her silence. I needed her to deliver an apology letter to Smith that was stuffed with cash. I wondered if he knew I would leave again; all that work he spent on keeping me safe, and I would leave without a second thought.

And that was it…here we were, both battling for control. He wanted to stick me in a box with those people.
Box…restaurant, same difference. Why? Why did he care about me?
I glared into his dark sunglasses and stern facial features, and crossed my arms over my chest. He lifted his shades and his eyes took on a soft, pleading appearance, and I was defeated. I moved toward the door of the restaurant, attempting to gather my elegance. A seat was saved for me at the end of the table next to my brother, and I noticed my father on the other side of him. I crossed the room with my shoulders back and head held high. I was becoming a man-hater, and I didn’t normally let anything get to the point of hate.

I zoned out after that
; I didn’t even listen to the conversation. I didn’t order anything either. I just sat and drank my ice cold water. Laughter spilled from the table behind us, and I noticed a group of women drinking wine and talking intimately. I smiled when they glanced at the table I sat at. One of the ladies nodded, mouthing, ‘I am jealous.’  I looked back to the table and around at the very attractive, rich men, and all I could think was that I would rather be sitting at her table.

I glanced at Smith a couple feet away from me. He looked exhausted. I stood from the table and strolled over to where he was standing, not ready to break my silent strike,
so I nodded instead. “Ready?” he asked, and I blinked in agreement. He signaled Smith Three to bring the car around. If I was speaking, I would have asked why I didn’t have my own car earlier.
I would have to shelf that question for a later day.

The sound of my heels on the marble flooring echoed around the table as I approached it to leave. I raised my hand to wave
and flashed a friendly smile to the men who I knew were essential to the foundation, making the dreams of my grandfather a reality. I knew they saw me as a joke, but I didn’t let that influence my gratefulness at how hard everyone worked to make things happen. I nodded at my father and my brother separately, and then followed Smith to the exit where the car was waiting.

“How long are you going to go without talking?” Smith tossed out as I passed him getting into the car
. I thought about surprising him with some witty words, but I didn’t. He was tired, and I was feeling extra cranky.

We reached
the mansion just outside of the city and Smith helped me out. I moved inside, quickly putting my workout clothes on. I observed Smith physically flinch when I walked out of my room. He had been chasing me for days, and judging by the look on his face, he was ready to set me free. I bypassed him, crossing the main house to the ground floor into the gym located by the garage. I didn’t see his face, but I heard the loud sigh that escaped his lips.

I used the rowing machine first and then the treadmill, running from the looks of the men
in the car, running from the fact my grandfather gifted me the foundation and running because my mind was filled with so much junk and I desperately wanted to get away from it.

A sandwich, red apple
, cookies, and a glass of water on a tray were resting on my bed when I stepped out of the shower. I managed to miss breakfast and lunch because my appetite was non-existent, but now, as I slipped the turkey sandwich between my lips, I found my body completely starving. I sat down with my towel wrapped around my body and ate…everything. I dressed in the clothes laid out for me, a pinstriped business skirt and a plain, white silk shirt. I finished getting ready before I emerged from my room.

Brian was in the seating area in the back of the house buried in his computer when I passed
, carrying my tray to the kitchen. He glanced up, and I was conscious of his eyes following me. I ended up in the kitchen with Smith Two on my heels. I needed a new fixation, a new hobby. I glanced around the large kitchen, taking in the space and all the brand new appliances, and that was when I decided I was going to bake.

By the time the cook came into the kitchen to
start dinner, I had made three pies and two more were in the oven. My outfit was ruined; I had blackberries on my white silk shirt and flour all over the smart skirt I wore. I fully grinned when the cook gasped at my outfit. I cut a piece of pie for her and she tasted it. She returned my smile. “Very good, sweetheart.”

I melted a little
; no one had ever called me that. The cook was in her early sixties. She was short like me, with a sprinkling of gray throughout her dark brown, short, curly hair. Her brown eyes were warm and her face had the cutest freckles. She had been my grandfather’s cook, and now she was mine. She traveled with him everywhere, and it was fun to see that look in her eye, the one that told me she loved my pie. She immediately cut into the next one, making the same face. I cut Smith Two a piece to thank him silently for his two trips to the store and walked it over to him. His eyes were hazy, like he was close to falling asleep. He cautiously took the pie and eyed the cook before taking a large bite. I watched his eyes roll back and a large smile spread across his face.

“Thanks
.” It was a whisper, but I heard him clearly. I left the kitchen after I pulled the last two pies out and headed back to my room for another shower. I passed Brian on the way back, and he was shouting into the phone about shipping and ‘getting it there’. He did a double take when he saw my outfit, but continued his rant into the phone.

I fell asleep after my shower.
Dreams of my grandfather always started, and then the claustrophobic feeling of being locked in the closet for hours took over. I woke disoriented and grabbed my robe to pad in my slippers to the kitchen.

I tripped over Brian sitting rig
ht outside my bedroom door. He held his laptop and set it aside while he helped me up.

“I heard your voice.” His
blue eyes locked with mine. “You were calling for me.” I didn’t know what to say; I wasn’t going to talk about my nightmares…with anyone. “Anyway, I came just in case you needed me, but when I opened the door, you were sleeping. I waited here just I case you called for me again.”