Chapter 1

MIA

Everything feels so much quieter now that the party has ended.

I can't count how many times I've roamed the grounds of my father's house since I moved in with him a year ago. Yet, with each silent night here, I should have grown accustomed to the stillness. Living on a vast expanse of land with no one nearby for miles will do that. To visit neighbors, I'd need a ride—not that I make house calls. And if I did, I wouldn't go alone. I'm only allowed solitude in the bathroom and my bedroom. That's it.

Tonight, though, it doesn't seem to matter. Sneaking a few drinks at the party probably didn't hurt. I feel warm, liberated, and content. High school is finished. It's time for my life to begin truly. At last.

I'm aware I shouldn't feel this way. Countless girls would likely envy my position. How often does someone experience a life like mine? I grew up ordinarily enough with a single mother who, sadly, was too often mistreated by the men in her life.

She never caught on, never realized they were trouble. I grew up living in a home with a revolving door; at least, that was how it felt. I attended school, and had a few friends, but my real dream was to escape and carve out my own path. A life where I wouldn't need to depend on a man the way my mother did.

Then, suddenly, everything changed. I lost her, but in return, I gained all this. My enigmatic father appeared out of nowhere and 'rescued' me—or so he believed. And perhaps he did, in a way. How else would I have managed?

But I could never have envisioned this life. A child without a father always wonders about them—where they are, who they are, what they do. As a little girl, I imagined my dad as an important man, too busy with work that took him around the world, but who would one day come back to make everything right?

Wouldn't you know it? That's exactly what happened. And since then, I've been living like a princess.

No one tells you that a princess's life can be quite a burden. Princesses must be watched and guarded. They're never allowed to venture out alone, for fear of what might happen.

Hence I'm not alone by the pool after my graduation party. I can't be alone, not really—not with the water gently swaying, the lights and lanterns swinging in the breeze, and my bodyguard's gaze piercing through me.

I often wonder about Zeke's problem with me. It seems like he resents having to shadow me everywhere. I can't even sit in my own backyard without him nearby. As much as it bothers me, I can't imagine how he feels about it.

But that's not what's on my mind right now. We're alone by the pool. Zeke is in his usual black attire: jeans and a T-shirt, the latter tight enough to accentuate his muscular build. My mouth waters at the sight. I wonder what he would think if he knew about the nights I've spent fantasizing about him without that shirt.

"You never did go for a swim," I remind him, teasing now that I'm slightly buzzed and the awkwardness has dissipated.

He flinches a little as if my voice startled him after the prolonged silence. "I'm not in the mood for a swim," he says, and for him, that's quite the statement. There was a time I thought he might be mute.

"The party's over. There's nobody here to protect me from," I say with a grin, scanning the area. "Go ahead. I won't tell anyone."

His grey eyes lock with mine across the patio. "Why does it matter to you?"

I wish my body wouldn't react so intensely to his gaze. Doesn't he realize the effect he has on me? I've gone from resenting him to craving his presence. And now, I want more than just his presence—I crave his proximity. Yet he might as well be a world away, lounging in a deck chair mere feet from me.

"I just thought you might enjoy a little fun for once. It can't be enjoyable, always having to follow me around, right?" I rise, unsteady on my platform shoes. Slipping out of them, I feel more grounded and confidently make my way around the Olympic-sized pool to his side.

"It's my job. Fun isn't part of the equation," he says, his eyes briefly darting toward a rustle in the trees that encircle the property. He's always vigilant, even when it's just the warm night air stirring the leaves.

"Don't you ever have time off?"

"You should know better than to ask that," he replies, a trace of humor in his deep voice, suggesting a personality beneath his stoic exterior.

"So come on. Let's go for a swim. I promise not to tell," I coax him, offering a coy smile and biting my lip playfully. He's a man, after all, and I'm not oblivious. I've caught him stealing glances when he thinks I'm not looking. I understand what those looks mean. I'm no child.

"If you're too chicken, I'll go first." I reach behind my neck, finding the ties of my cover-up. With a pull, the fabric cascades down, revealing the skimpy two-piece underneath that would horrify my father.

Zeke's gaze darts to the house, then back to me. "Are you out of your mind? He'd have a fit if he saw you in that."

"Yeah?" I say, emboldened by the vodka cranberry, stepping closer to Zeke. "Then he shouldn't see me, should he? What do you think I should do?"

"Mia..." He groans, stretching his legs and chuckling with a tinge of remorse.

"I could just take it off. Would that solve the problem?"

Zeke licks his lips, which suddenly seem parched, and my boldness grows. It spurs me to reach behind again, this time for the ties of my top.

He emits a strangled noise. "Don't do this."

"Come on. I'm a grown woman, nearly nineteen and done with high school. What's there to fear?" I let the top drop, the cool air causing a shiver. Before second thoughts can grip me, I loosen the ties at my hips and let the bottom join the top.

He can't feign disinterest—not with his gaze fixed on me. He may be the most inscrutable man I've ever encountered, but he's still just a man. He recognizes a good figure when he sees one, and my lack of experience doesn't blind me to my own allure.

"Well?" I challenge him. "Ready to get wet?"

His mouth opens, and his eyes widen. This is the moment. He desires me as I desire him. I can sense it. After all the longing, it's about to become reality. I'm close enough to feel his breath. Reaching out to him would be effortless.

"Put your clothes on," he commands, standing with clenched fists. "Have some respect for yourself."

A chill runs through me as his words sink in. "What are you saying?" I ask, my voice now a tremulous whisper.

"You know exactly what I mean. Save this act for those boys from earlier, not for me." He gestures to my clothes. "Now, before I have to tell your father."

As I register the contempt in his eyes, nausea overwhelms me. I can't believe I misread everything. I want to disappear, to sink into the pool and never emerge. How could I have been so mistaken?

It doesn't matter anymore. His look of disdain cuts deep. Hastily, I drape the cover-up over myself, snatch my bathing suit, and dash toward the house, tears streaming down my face and a lump in my throat.

How could I have been so naïve?

How will I ever face him again?