Page 5 of Room Twenty-Three: Tangled & Teased

I silently curse as my father’s bodyguard, Marco, rushes to my side. Holding his palm to the top of my head, urging, almost pushing me into the car.

I lower my body and slide onto the heated, black leather seat. The resounding clunk of the door shutting behind causes a shiver to run down my spine.

After dragging the seat belt across my body, I turn and stare at my father, but he doesn’t look at me. He stares ahead, staying silent.

Marco walks around the front of the car and climbs into the driver’s side before he starts the engine. For a while, there is nothing but the sound of the hum of the car as it speeds away from the airport.

Finally, my father makes a move by doing something he never normally does. He takes my hand as he turns to me and he says, “You’re going to disappear for a while.”

My mouth opens in shock.

He swallows, but it’s as though the words mean nothing to him. Like he was expecting a problem.

“Disappear,” I whisper. “Why?”

My father catches Marco’s raised eyes in the front of his car. He sighs and says. “I’ll tell you at home.”

The rest of the journey is silent as I stare at everything and anything. Houses, cars, people, dogs... Whatever it takes to take my mind off the fact I have to ‘disappear.’

I don’t know if it’s my state of mind, but the journey to the West End of London was scarily quick. I don’t know if I am ready to hear what he has to say. When my home finally comes into view, an imposing large white Georgian residence with too many windows. My heart races because I know something bad is looming.

We pull off the street and drive through an archway which leads to a blocked paved driveway, and before I know it, the car is halting outside the rear of my family home. I glance up at my bedroom. I love it has a small Juliet balcony with black wrought iron fencing that spans my bedroom window.

I don’t love that I’ve never had my Romeo.

Marco gets out of the car and strolls to my father’s side of the car.

“Erin...” my father’s voice is softer than normal as he takes my hand in his, stroking his palm over the top of my hand. He is doing everything opposite of what he normally does. Internally, I’m freaking out. “I’ve received information that someone was looking for your cousin Lydia.”

“Lydia.” Her name comes out harsher than I expected. “Why?”

Marco opens my father’s car door and then strolls to mine before he ushers my father and me into the house.

“I need to speak to my daughter alone,” Father says to Marco, and places his hand on my lower back as we walk to his private office.

“I’ll wait outside,” Marco says, shutting the door.

My father takes a bottle of whiskey and pours a lot more than his usual two fingers. He knocks his head back, drinking the amber liquid in one. “We aren’t sure yet, but I think it might be because of what happened at our leaving party in Brisbane.”

“That was years ago,” I say.

He plants his glass on his desk and stares out of the window. “It was, but a man died that night, and people believe Lydia knew something about it.”

“Lydia!” I say, but nothing else. It’s best to keep my mouth shut because I know more about that night than my father does. He refused to listen when I tried to tell him about what happened to my best friend Lia. A man assaulted her at the party, but since the day I mentioned it to my father, Lia made me promise to keep it a secret.

“And I am still confused how this affects me.” I wait and listen to what he has to tell me.

He sucks back a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “Because now we believe they’re looking for you.”

“Me?” I choke.

“Marco heard the Mafia is searching for everyone who was with Lydia that night. Everyone who is on the camera footage talking to the man who was killed. We hope they think Lydia was the last person to be seen with him, but...” Father sighs and closes his hand into a fist and slams it into the wall in front of him. “They killed Lydia.” Tears coat his normally stern eyes as he stares at me. “My brother has lost his little girl. He’s inconsolable.”

Lydia is dead.

My eyes fill with tears as I stare at my father. “Dad.” My voice is a murmur as I shake my head. “I was only with her the night before I left Australia.”

My stomach churns, bile creeps up my throat, and I know I’m going to vomit.

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