Moment of Weakness (Embracing Moments Book 1) (5 page)

At least that’s what I told myself.

We were sitting so close, it was hard to ignore any slight movement he made. It’s not like it mattered much anyway. My body had been well aware of his presence ever since he first stepped out of the car back at the station. While I was sure the man sitting next to me had already formed an opinion of me, my own mind was still running rampant. At times like this, I wanted to escape. I pulled my headphones from my purse and plugged them into my phone. Hitting the play button on my favorite play list, I closed my eyes and allowed the blaring sound of my music to carry me away.

My headphones must have fallen out sometime while I slept because I could hear the soft purring of the engine come to a stop. Out of all the times of falling asleep in the backseat, never could I recall it being so comfortable. Typically, the hard headrests would have me waking up with a stiff neck, but this headrest was soft, warm, and had me fighting to open my eyes. What did they do, install new headrests? Winning the battle, I tried to focus my blurred vision. Everything came into view, including my headrest.

My headrest that was so not a headrest.

It was a shoulder—Roman’s shoulder to be exact—which I still lay on as drool rolled down my cheek. Great.
Did I seriously fall asleep on him? And I drooled.

I freaking drooled.

Sitting up, I wiped the remaining drool off my cheek and nonchalantly glanced at his shoulder, hoping to God there wasn’t a wet spot on his suit. Because how mortifying would that be? Luckily for me, there wasn’t. He stared out the window, one arm—the one I lay on—was resting on his thigh. The other was propped against the door, his fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. With a blank expression on his face, he looked deep in thought. And for the first time ever, I wondered what he thought about.

Normally, I couldn’t care less what people thought. It was an attitude I adopted soon after my mom died. Dad had paid off several news stations and papers to ensure the details surrounding my mother’s death were kept private. He did it to protect us, protect me. However, all it did was cause more gossip and speculation. Naturally, people talked, drawing their own conclusions about what caused her death. Some were subtle about it, others not so much. It is human nature for people to judge and form opinions, but sometime during my sleep, it hit me.

I suddenly cared.

I cared what Roman thought of me. In his eyes, I was probably some rich girl with abusive boyfriend issues. Turning in my seat, I shifted my body so I faced him. My knee brushed against his thigh, and Roman’s eyes darted from the window to my knee. My body remained still as his gaze traveled from my knee, up my chest, and over my lips, before meeting my eyes. The heat of his stare was intense, so intense I almost lost my train of thought. Swallowing around the lump that formed in my throat, I spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened at the train station.” I paused, mortified at the thought. “I can promise you that usually doesn’t happen.”

His brows knitted together and the inexorable expression he gave me was unnerving.

“Look, with all due respect, Miss Parker. This is my job. I’m here, assigned to protect you. Why? I’m not quite sure. The way you handled yourself back at the train station makes it obvious you don’t need me. Regardless, I’m here. I’m not here to make friends, so you can save your explanation. I don’t need to hear it.”

The words shot from his mouth like frozen daggers, cold and harsh. Who the hell pissed in his cornflakes this morning? My eyes widened as I stared at him dumbfounded. Keeping my voice steady, I tried to seem unaffected by his words. “Nobody’s forcing this assignment on you. I’m sure you can be easily transferred.” I glared at him and threw my arms across my chest. “And for what it’s worth,” I snapped, “I don’t care for anyone’s protection. I never asked for it.”

And I hadn’t. I didn’t want his protection. My father didn’t even have the audacity to tell me why I needed it. Roman looked at me, his stare as hard as his jaw. Shaking his head, he let out an irritable sigh. “I’m not going anywhere until this assignment is over. I’m here to do my job—not for small talk.”

Annoyance dripped from his tone, and I couldn’t understand why. What had I done, other than apologize, that warranted such a nasty reaction? At a loss for words, I picked my pink headphones up from my lap and placed them back in my ears. I shifted in my seat, directing my attention back to the window. Goose bumps prickled the back of my neck, only this time it wasn’t because of Roman’s knee rubbing against my thigh. I could feel his cold gaze lingering on me, and the muscles in my stomach twisted. Closing my eyes, I tried to erase the day from my mind.

If only it was that easy.

AFTER WHAT FELT
like the longest car ride in history, we eventually arrived at the entrance to our driveway. Theo reached out and punched a few numbers into the little metal box, causing the black wrought iron gate to slide open. The house set just about a mile beyond the gate. White and red oak trees lined both sides of the curvy cobblestone driveway, making it seem like you were driving through a tunnel. Our eight-car garage came into view as well as the large white stone fountain my mother had installed in front of the house when I was just an infant.

Theo pulled into his usual parking spot and turned the car off. By the time I unbuckled my seat belt and stuffed my headphones back in my purse, Roman had already slid out of the car and held the door open for me. Sliding out, I tossed him a quick “thank you” and walked to the already opened trunk. As I reached in for my suitcases, Roman attempted to grab them from my hands.

“I got it,” I insisted, gripping the handles tighter. I swore a battle of tug-of-war on my suitcase was about to start, but instead, Roman dropped the handles. He stood looking at me with his beautiful facial features hidden behind the scowl that was on full display. Without saying anything, he turned and slammed the trunk lid shut before walking out of the garage.

I stood there, my hands still grasping the handles of my bags and my face aflame. Everything inside me wanted to scream. I barely knew this guy, and yet he was treating me like I was his mortal enemy.

“Everything okay, Miss Julia?”

I was too livid to realize Theo still stood there. My cheeks burned with embarrassment at the thought of him witnessing my outburst. Swallowing hard, I gave a quick nod and walked past him into the house.

Everything at home was just the way I remembered it. The only difference was the increase in security. New cameras hung in every corner, and there were a few new faces I didn’t recognize. The house was quiet and my father was nowhere in sight. He was most likely still working, which I should have expected. I was sure he would introduce me to everyone once he got home. In the meantime, I headed to my room.

A sense of relief washed over me when I dropped my suitcase to the floor. Finally, I was alone. I could at least have privacy in my room. Most girls my age envied this space. My room was bigger than most apartments, and it had become more sophisticated over the years. At one point, the walls were bright pink, but now they were light gray with dark gray accent walls. A large, white, tufted headboard decorated my king-sized bed, which was adorned with a light seafoam blue comforter and several throw pillows. Matching curtains draped across the French doors, which led to an enormous balcony. Standing on the balcony provided a spectacular view of the courtyard and pool terrace. The en suite bathroom sat off to the left and featured a separate stand-up shower and extra-large Jacuzzi tub. My closet was filled with endless racks of designer clothing. More than half of them still had their tags attached, indicating they had never been worn.

Like my mother, I never cared for material things. Mom had grown up as a single child, whose parents lived paycheck to paycheck. Money didn’t matter to her, probably because her family never had much growing up. Regardless, she enjoyed the simple things in life and never took anything for granted.

Exhausted, I walked over to my bed and plopped down. Pulling the butterfly clip from my hair, I set it down on my nightstand and curled up into a small ball. I couldn’t help but wonder how different my life would be if my mom were still alive. I’d probably be attending one of the top dancing schools in the country instead of studying for a degree in psychology. Dad wouldn’t be so paranoid. There would be no need for security—no need for Roman. More importantly, the other half of my heart would still be beating.

But it wasn’t.

And the more I thought about it, I convinced myself that was a good thing, because that part of my heart—the part that stopped beating—that was the same part of my heart that would allow me to feel.

And the last thing I wanted to do was feel.

The light breeze blowing through the crack in my balcony doors woke me up. I didn’t intend to fall asleep, but I was so tired I couldn’t help it. The room was dark as I removed my comforter and swung my feet off the side of the bed. Glancing down at my phone, I saw the time read nine o’clock. I had been asleep for almost five hours. Dad should have been home by now. Knowing him, he didn’t want to wake me, but I was eager to see him. I missed him and there was a lot I needed to talk to him about.

Still wearing my same yellow sundress from earlier, I made my way down into the living room. My father and his long-time business partner, Grant Evans, were sitting on the couch. Grant was my father’s age, although his receding hairline and croaky voice made him seem much older. They had graduated college together and even started their own manufacturing business together, which became very successful.

After the death of my grandparents, Dad resigned and signed the entire company over to Grant. For reasons not completely known, the business struggled and folded a year later. My father felt sorry for Grant, maybe even a tad bit guilty. He offered him a second-in-command position through several of his companies. Most of my father’s business interests involved private manufacturing and investments. His main focus, however, was purchasing struggling companies. Most of the time he paid more than what they were worth, but nine out of ten times, he had those same companies generating profits in as little as three months. Some of them he kept, others he sold off. While my father had always considered Grant a friend, my mother never trusted him. I would hear my parents arguing occasionally about decisions Grant would make. Mom always felt Grant was making decisions that would benefit himself in the long run. He didn’t seem to care how it could potentially hurt the business or the image it created.

My father was beginning to see this until Mom’s death. Once Mom died, Dad checked out for a while. He avoided the office altogether and stayed home most of the time. Grant took over most of Dad’s responsibilities and proved to handle everything well, restoring Dad’s trust in him. Everything seemed to be running the way it should be, but I still didn’t trust him. If Mom didn’t trust him, she must have had a good reason not to.

“Julia, it’s a pleasure seeing you.” He smiled a fake smile, and I knew it was to hide the surprised look on his face. He watched me as I planted a kiss on my father’s cheek. “I thought you were going to Europe for the summer?”