Page 33 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

“James, yes, and he was following you for a…”

“He was stalking me!” she said, growing hysterical as angry tears threatened to choke her. “The person you hired was stalking me and sexually harassing me in front of my coworkers and boss.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You don’t believe me?” Jeannie got up from her seat and walked outside, hoping the fresh air would calm her downor keep her from screaming like a banshee in utter disbelief that her parents, someone who was supposed to be supportive, loving, and protective, could hire some sleazy guy to follow her – and then brush off her concerns when she told them. “How can you not believe me when I am telling you that he was harassing me, following me? He moved into the building I used to live in…”

“To protect you…”

“Hescaredme,” she snarled, crying now as she marched blindly across the parking lot to her car. “He frightened me, he touched me, he followed me, and this was because you hired him to watch me and report back to you.”

“Now, now, Jeannie – don’t get hysterical about this. If you made good choices,” her father said coolly, “we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

Jeannie let out a breathless, humorless laugh, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel. “I do make good choices—for me.”

“They’re terrible choices because now you’re living with some guy claiming to be married, and we both know you’re not.”

Jeannie sucked in a sharp breath.

She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t told anyone.

Her father had been digging, prying, tearing apart her life without her knowledge.

Oh gosh.

Her stomach twisted violently.

She knew what he was capable of. She had seen the ruthless way he moved through life, cutting down anyone who got in his way. She had been raised by this man—she knew the depths of his control, the lengths he would go to to keep his image pristine.

And now he had his claws in her again.

“You think I didn’t follow up on that? My daughter suddenly disappears from Seattle, where she ‘had to be because it was cool,’he continued mocking her. “Only to show up in a foreigncountry, pretending –yes, pretending– to be married to some hot shot hockey player. How do you think that looks to me, to your family, to friends, to voters… that my daughter is living in sin, in another country.”

“Daddy, don’t do this…” she begged, her voice cracking.

She wasn’t pleading for herself.

She was pleading for Matthieu.

Sweet, thoughtful, determined Matthieu—who had done nothing wrong except befriend her.

“My daughter, an American citizen, has shacked up with some man who’s a liar, a con artist, and now he’s boldly telling people you’re married to further his career. You think you’re so smart, but I know that little tid-bit, too.”

Jeannie sucked in a shaky breath, her vision blurring.

“Daddy…”

“I know everything.” His voice was sharp and triumphant, every syllable dripping with power. “A parent knows. I know when you’re lying. I know when you’re hiding things. I know everything about you—because I raised you.” her father was screaming at her now on the phone, and Jeannie was openly crying within the confines of her car.

The car that Matthieu had been so proud of buying her.

Her sweet Matthieu, who hugged her, who was trying his hardest to fit in and find his footing, her sweet friend who wanted a shot at being the best there was and her father, whom she did know, she had been raised by him, and had witnessed just how cold-blooded he could be to get his way, now had the keys to put her under his thumb.

“Here’s what you are going to do, young lady…” he began, and Jeannie spoke, her voice broken and full of fear.

“N-Nothing,” she stammered tearfully. “I’m not doing anything because I’m happy here. Matthieu is good to me.”

“Because you are a means to an end for him, Jeannie.”

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