Page 86 of My Damaged Protector

“I'm sorry?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

What is she talking about?

“It would appear you're not aware we were coming.”

“No, I wasn't.”

She nods and steps back to rifle through her bag. She brings out her phone, types something, and puts it to her ear while I try to figure out what the hell she's doing. Soon she's speaking, and she comes forward to me with her phone outstretched.

“Mr. Craig would like to speak with you.”

Mr. who now?

Skeptically, I take the phone from her hand.

“Yeah?”

“Ian, it's me.”

Christopher?

Why the hell did he send these people here? It better not be for them to start living with me, because the answer is no.

“Did you send them here?” I ask him.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Well, they worked for Maya. They are still on the payroll because Maya didn't want them stranded, and I just thought that since you're at the house now, you'll be needing all the help you can get.”

That makes sense, but still, I would have appreciated a little heads-up.

“I'm sorry I didn't call before they got there. I did send a message, though.”

And I haven’t opened any of them.

“Yeah, sorry. Thanks… Um… If you're up for it, maybe you can join me for dinner?”

There's silence on his end, and that's all I need to know he's not up for it.

“It's fine, it was just a suggestion.”

“Maybe some other time?”

“Sure. It'll be my pleasure.”

“Alright.”

I pass the phone back to the woman, who later introduces herself to me as Elise. The other girl is Salem, and the guy is Dalton. He's the gardener. Elise is the housekeeper, and Salem is the chef.

A few minutes after I let them in, Salem comes to ask me what I would like for dinner. I tell her to prepare whatever she’d like and dismiss her.

I'm still trying to get used to being in a place of power and people coming to me for directions. It's sure not a position I'll get comfortable with for a while.

When I'm left all alone to my thoughts, I go through the house again, aimlessly roaming through the rooms until I find myself back at my aunt's room again, which I have no plan to take. It's just too much. I'll be taking one of the guest rooms downstairs, for now.

As I look through the room, my eyes land on her picture with three other women. They all look alike, and I wonder which of them was my birth mother.

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