Page 2 of I Don't Need Your Protection
“I assure you it will be taken to your room.”
I shake my head. “This stays with me.”
“As you wish.”
He leads me to the foyer, and I stop dead in my tracks. If I thought the outside of the mansion was exquisite, it’s nothing like the inside. The floor is made of marble and there is a lavish staircase that leads upstairs that is split in both directions. Thechandeliers are large and stunning and sparkle under the sun filtering through the windows. The ceiling is very high and has a beautiful design, as do the walls. There are portraits of people sprinkled all over the walls, which I assume are the man’s ancestors. Well, my ancestors, too, I guess. They feel like strangers staring down at me.
“Miss Addie?”
I tear my eyes from gaping at the walls and glance at Louis. He’s quite a distance away from me. “Oh, sorry,” I mutter as I hurry to catch up to him.
He leads me a little bit further to a door that is slightly ajar. He says, “One moment, miss,” and knocks on the door. A deep and masculine voice says, “You may enter,” and Louis walks in. For some reason, that causes my palms to get clammy. Maybe because the person who, until this moment, was just a thought will now become real. He’s my grandfather, the only family I have left. What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him? What if he ships me back to the group home? I don’t know if I’d be happy about that. Either situation sucks.
I hear footsteps and then Louis exits the room. Holding his hand toward the room, he says, “Mr. Bradshaw will see you now.”
I swallow as I stare at the open door. Why do I feel like I’m stepping through a portal that will lead me to a demon world where the inhabitants will harvest my organs?
“Please don’t keep your grandfather waiting, miss. He’s a very busy man.”
I’m guessing Louis never had to meet a grandfather hedidn’t know existed until twenty-four hours ago?
“Sorry,” I mumble before releasing a breath and stepping into the room.
The first thing I notice is the smell. It’s a cologne that smells like it costs thousands of dollars. The next thing I notice is a head of graying brown hair. It’s the same shade as mine, and Dad’s too (minus the gray). I force myself to fully take in the person sitting behind the desk. He’s in the middle of writing something on fancy stationary paper with a fancy-looking pen. His eyes are focused on his work, as though he didn’t hear me walk in.
I tear my gaze from him long enough to examine his study. There is a bookcase to his right full of professional-looking books. His desk is mostly clean with a few pieces of paper, and to his left is a large window with a beautiful view of the garden. He sits in a large leather chair and there are two smaller leather chairs across from him.
His right hand makes a few more scratches across the paper, and then he caps the pen. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to me.
Chapter Two
Addie
I try not to stumble back at his sharp brown irises. They’re identical to Dad’s, well without the sharp part, since Dad’s eyes were always so soft. He has a strong jaw, and the way he lifts his chin makes me swear he knows how to command authority. He’s wearing a crisp dark suit without a single crease, and his tie is of a gentle blue color.
I can see my dad in him. Actually, the more I study him, the more striking he looks to Dad. I bet Dad would have looked very similar to him had he reached his father’s age.
He does a leisurely scan of me, from the top of my head down to my sneakers, which I admit have seen better days. There is no expression on his face or in his eyes, no sign of any emotion. I have no idea if he approves of what he sees.
I don’t know how long he stares at me, but it feels like a million years. A part of me wants to spin around and high-tail itout of here because I feel so awkward just standing here in front of this rich dude, but I hold my ground. There’s nowhere for me to run to because Mr. Nathaniel Bradshaw is now my legal guardian.
“You have his eyes,” he finally says.
My gaze snaps to his face. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I think I finally see a hint of emotion in his eyes. Maybe pain? Loss? Guilt?
“You have his eyes, too,” I stammer.
He continues to study me for a bit longer, then gets up and makes his way to me. I stagger back when he stretches his arms around me, totally shocked that he actually wants to hug me. Before I have a chance to return the hug, he goes back to his seat and motions toward one of the chairs across from him. “Please have a seat. There is a lot we need to discuss, Addilyn.”
“It’s Addie,” I say as I lower myself on one of the chairs.
His sharp eyes settle on me again. Why do they make me feel so unnerved?
“Are you aware of why you were named Addilyn?” he asks.
“Yeah, my dad said I’m named after his mom.”
He nods, and I once again see a shadow of emotion in his eyes. “Yes, that is correct. Addilyn Montgomery Bradshaw was my late wife. She died when your father was a teenager.”
