Page 36 of Guarded By the Phantom

Then again, he didn’t behave like a proper bodyguard. I clenched my teeth and knocked. Something in the roomthudded, something clanged, and Phantom’s muffled voice followed.

“Be there in a minute!”

I heard a faint hiss, like he sprayed something in the room, and a moment later, he opened the door. The strong scent of male perfume hit me at once, and I coughed.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he said, pressing his knuckles to his bony temple. He seemed tired. “I shouldn’t have bothered. Well, come in.”

I followed him inside, closing the door behind me, and looked around. The room wasn’t much different from when my mother used it. A huge mahogany desk occupied the middle of the plush, green carpet, tall wooden cabinets lining the walls. A few shelves, previously empty, were now filled with books.

Phantom made other changes, too. He threw a black blanket over a huge modern art painting hanging right behind the desk, my mother’s pride and joy. When I turned to look at the door, I found a life-sized poster of a preening pin-up girl wearing a corset and sexy garters. She was blonde and voluptuous, oozing sexy confidence.

The only light came from an ornate desk lamp, making the atmosphere cozy and mellow.

While I took in the room, Phantom went over to the open window and half-sat on the wide windowsill, lighting a cigarette.

“Ah, you were smoking.” I finally understood why he’d sprayed the room with deodorant. He tried to cover up the scent.

He nodded, taking a long drag of the cigarette. “My shrink was very unhelpful today, so I’m trying to cope on my own.”

He studied the cigarette held between his armored fingers before looking up at me with a mild frown.

“Does it bother you? I can stop if you don’t want me to smoke around you.”

“Oh.” I smiled, a bit taken aback by his offer. “Since when are you so considerate? I bet my mother told you not to smoke inside, and you didn’t care.”

He shrugged. “Cause I don’t give a f—I don’t care about your mother. But if you tell me to stop, I will.”

A wave of warmth spread in my chest, finally allowing me to relax just a bit. I crossed the room to sit in a large, green armchair by the window.

“It’s okay. Can I stay with you for a bit? I won’t be a nuisance, I promise.”

He huffed out a small laugh, blowing smoke out of his nose hole. “Stay as long as you want, doll. We can plan that visit to church.”

I smiled, settling in until I was curled up in the armchair, my chin resting on my knees. Phantom gave me a long look and drew on his cigarette again. The tip burned bright orange.

“My mother thinks I should be trying to save my reputation. You know, after the video.”

He tipped his head back, blowing out smoke. “And what do you think?”

“That my reputation is a lie, anyway, so what does it matter?” I said softly, realizing it was the truth.

I frowned, trying to piece my thoughts together. It wasn’t easy, since I had to shush all the chiding voices that resided in my head and watched my every thought, hunting for flaws or dissent.

“Everything that’s ever been publicly said about me was performative,” I said slowly, thinking. “My every outing was carefully staged, every outfit prepared by a team of stylists, and I got coaching before every interview to say exactly the right things. The video… It was basically the same thing, only done to me by different people. I kind of get why my mother didn’t thinkit was a big deal. She does the same thing to me every day, except her control isn’t as violent.”

He watched me, the white bone of his face bathed in the golden light from the lamp.

“How does she control you?” he asked in a murmur before drawing in another lungful of smoke.

Shame rippled behind my sternum, and I looked away, wondering if he would laugh if I told him. When I looked up, Phantom stared out the open window, his profile calm and thoughtful. I decided to tell him.

“Mostly, it’s a habit,” I said, my throat tight. “I was brought up to follow directions. I’ve learned how to spot the signs of her displeasure early, you know? I always self-correct to keep her happy. Because when she isn’t happy with me, she… She knows what to say to make me really miserable. And also…”

I swallowed, shooting him a quick glance, but he still wasn’t looking at me. It gave me the confidence I needed to speak out.

“I rebelled a bit in high school. I wanted to party like other kids, wear dark lipstick, stuff like that. She didn’t care until some photos from a party got leaked, and then she lost it. She, um. She said I’d be sent to a mental institution. Showed me which one and told me my aunt had been sent there when she refused to marry the man my grandparents chose for her. I, uh, talked to my aunt after my mother told me.”

I swallowed, that conversation still lodged at the forefront of my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

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