Page 7 of Forbidden Bond

“You’re supposed to take care of me,” he whines, lying flat on the bed and pulling my comforter over his head.

I sigh softly. “I’m still pissed at you for Friday.”

He lifts the comforter from his head to look at me. “Oh yeah, you still haven’t told me about this dude that gave you a ride back to campus. I’m surprised you even got into his car.”

“He was… persistent,” I admit.

“And good-looking,” Jameson says, waggling his eyebrows.

I throw a makeup brush at him. “I never said that!”

“Please, you’re blushing at the thought of him. The guy was definitely good-looking, and if he drives a Mercedes, he’s definitely rich. How come I haven’t seen him around campus?” he muses.

I shrug. “He said he was done with college.”

“Done like graduated? Or done like he’s a dropout?”

“I don’t know. What does it matter?”

“It matters, Katie. We both know it matters. Especially if you’re going to have a crush on the guy.”

I sputter. “I-I am not crushing on him!”

“Liar,” Jameson sings. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging. It’s time you got some action. And if you were comfortable enough to get into a car with this guy you don’t know, then I’m going to guess he’s probably a decent person.”

“This conversation is irrelevant,” I mutter. “I probably won’t ever see him again.”

Jameson snorts. “Wanna bet?”

* * *

The rest of the week practically flies by. Graduation is in two months and I’m busy with my senior thesis while studying for my final exams. I barely have time for anything other than school. I’m in a café, working on a paper, when I get a call from my dad.

“How’s my baby girl?” he asks when I pick up.

I smile as I reply. “I’m good, Daddy. And you? How’s work?”

“Fine. There was a counterintelligence case stressing me out a few weeks ago, but we resolved it today. Which is why I thought to call you. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been talking to Mom. And I know she tells you everything I say.”

He chuckles. “True. It’s a good thing your mom’s always available to talk to you girls. You know how busy I get.”

‘I know,” I tell him.

“Graduation’s in a few months. You haven’t told me what your plans are, sweetheart. Would you like me to get you a job? I could get the best one for you. You’re still an honors student, right?”

“Yes, Daddy. I am.”

I’ve worked hard to make sure I could make him proud, graduating summa cum laude from college and then moving on to the next step. But these days, I find it hard to visualize what the next step is.

“Actually, I’m not sure I want you to get me a job, Dad. I can find one on my own merit.”

He chuckles. “Of course you can. You’re my daughter, after all. But you’re getting a degree in archaeology, and there are specific places that you’re meant to work that might be otherwise hard for you to get to on your own. This is just me giving you a little push.”

Meant to work?

A small sigh escapes me. I know my dad well enough that I can read between the lines to understand exactly what he’s getting at. He’s probably ready to get me a job as the director at a prestigious museum or a consultant at high-class laboratory. Basically, a job he deems worthy of me—but that’s not what I want. He’s never even asked what I want. And in the past year, what I want has changed pretty greatly.

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