Page 74 of My Damaged Protector

He knows I'm in town. I don't even want to know how.

Not wanting to ignore him though, I start to dial him back, but the phone rings just as I'm about to press the dial button.

“Hello.”

“Ian. How are you?”

I know he didn't call me to exchange pleasantries, so there's no point attempting to do so.

“You know I'm in town. Why'd you call?” I say in my best no bullshit tone.

“You're in Glazer Ville?” His voice comes back full of surprise.

He didn't know?

“I thought that's why you're calling.”

“No, I had no idea you were in town, but this just makes things all the better. I need to see you.”

“I'm not sure that will work. I'm busy right now.”

“Doing what? Helping Sheila’s niece hide from the media?”

I thought he just said he didn't know I was in town?

“Didn't you just say?—”

“Yeah, I know what I said. I also know what I've found out about you. Which is why I'm calling. I've been doing a lot of research since the last time we saw each other, and I believe I've found a way for you to access your inheritance without staying in Glazer Ville for a year.”

My inheritance.

That sounds and feels so wrong. Do I even deserve any of these properties?

I didn’t know my aunt. She didn't know me, either. Why leave me all she worked for all her life?

I don't get it. And I'm not ready to bother my head about that, for now. I have enough to deal with already. I still haven't decided what I'm going to do about my job. And something tells me Richard isn't going to be exactly happy if he doesn't see me before the day runs out.

Did I ask for time to think about it?

Yes.

But knowing him, he'll think I was just messing around. He knows my job means everything to me. It still does, right?

I can't even define my priorities.

Sighing, I open my mouth to let him down, but he beats me to it.

“Look, let's meet later in the evening, okay? I'll explain everything to you, and you can decide what to do afterward.”

It wouldn't make any sense to say no to him right now. Not when he's going extra miles to help.

“Alright, let's meet later in the day. I'll text you the location when I'm free.”

“I'll be expecting it. Bye.”

He hangs up, and I have to press down the urge to throw my phone. The thing just won't stop ringing and bombarding me with situations I don't want to deal with right now.

I walk back into the house, and I notice there's a bit of quiet now. Sheila must be done cooking. The voices of the women carry from the kitchen into the living room, and what I hear them saying has me walking toward them as quietly as I can.

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