Page 8 of Most Of All

He stands up answering his phone. “What?” I can’t hear the other person, or any of the conversation because he walks away to finish the conversation.

Exploring the room with my eyes for no other reason than to be nosy, I spot the sunflowers outside the big window. I try to get up so that I can have a look. I lean all my weight on my good foot and slowly pull myself up. Testing my injured foot, I put a little weight on it. The pain that shoots up my leg, makes me scream, “Shit!” I yell and sit back down with an exasperated sigh.

When I look up again, I nearly jump out of my skin. Don is glaring at me, a worried frown masking his face. “I heard you scream.”

“Yes, sorry, I tried to get up, but...”

“I thought I told you; you have to stay off it,” he interrupts me, anger laced in his tone.

“I need to use the bathroom; what did you want me to do? Wet myself?” I lie.

Shaking his head, he softly says,

“Of course not, let me help you.” Carefully I start to get up, when out of blue, he scoops me up like a child; like I weigh nothing. With me in his arms, he makes his way upstairs.

“What the...put me down!”

“The bathroom is upstairs, it would take way too long for you to get there, so I’m getting you there faster.”

Again, I’m speechless. I stare in wonder, admiring every detail of his face as he carries me all the way upstairs. We make our way through a bedroom and into a bathroom where he sets me down near the toilet, making sure I’m stable before letting me go. “I'll be outside if you need me,” he whispers before making his way outside and closing the door behind him.

I can’t believe this man is real. I even pinch myself a couple of times to make sure I’m not dreaming. I don’t really need to go, but I think it is best to try and go anyway. When I’ve finished, I hop over to the sink, wash my hands, and give myself a quick glance in the mirror. I nearly die of shock. My hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, and I have mascara blotches under my eyes.

I try to fix it up the best I can, so I at least look slightly presentable when Don knocks on the door, “Is everything ok?” he asks against the door.

“Yes, I'm finished,” I reply, and he opens the door and scoops me back up. But this time, he sets me down on the bed in the room. Before I have the chance to say anything, he grabs fresh clothes out of one of the drawers and places them beside me. “Change into these; you are staying here today. I’m not taking no for an answer. I will get you everything you need brought up to the room. I have already called your work to tell them. And I have someone returning the van.” He turns but immediately turns back, “I almost forgot, you left your phone in the van.” He hands me my phone, and I remain silent, completely unsure how to even respond.

“Linda, my housekeeper, will be here soon. She will see to whatever you need. I have to go out for a couple of hours. If you need anything, text me. I have already entered my number in your phone.” He adds, stepping toward me. “Are you going to do as you’re told, Sweetheart?” He glares, waiting for an answer.

I still can't find my voice. I just start nodding my head. Stepping forward again, he leans in and grabs my face in his hands, “Little Wasp, use your words.”

This time I do respond, “Yes, sir,” I say without thinking.

He must be very satisfied with my reply as he kisses me on my cheek before whispering, “Good Girl.” And then leaves the room with a smirk.

“Whatdowehave?”I say to Tony once I get to the compound. I don’t want this to take long. I just want to get back home, back to my little wasp. I’m still finding it hard to wrap my head around last night's events.

“He broke into your property last night; we caught him in the act. We drugged him and brought him here. His car was parked down the road from yours, so I had Jeff drive it over.” Tony says, interrupting my thoughts.

“Who is he?” I ask, annoyed.

“Jack Ashford, sir.”

“Ah so, Jacky boy decided to grow some balls after all these years, did he?” I have known that Jack has been watching my family for quite a few years now. It must have something to do with my father. Do I care? No... Jack and my father can kill each other for all care. I had been hoping he would find something to take down the old man. I even left him some breadcrumbs, but no. Nothing. I wonder what has made him man up now, after all this time.

“Go clear out his apartment. I want all his paperwork boxed up and sent to mine.”

“But, sir.”

“But, sir, nothing. All the files on his computer and hard drives as well. Make sure you leave no stone unturned; I want you to go through it with a fine-tooth comb.”

“Yes, sir...and, sir, your father rang. He will be here within the hour; do you want me to...”

“No, no, Tony. I can handle him. You go and supervise everything. No wasting time. Once it is all clean, drug him again and drop him back to his apartment, the car too. And, Tony, not a word about this to the old man, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir, of course,” he replies, before making his way out.

I hate waiting. It always makes me feel itchy, yet the old man loves to make me suffer. Hopefully, someday soon, he will meet his end, and sooner rather than later. After I feel like I’ve counted every brick on the goddamn walls, he eventually shows up, an hour and forty-five minutes later, with his holier than thou attitude still intact. This man grates on me more than anyone else does. And hate is the subtlest word I would use.

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