"Is this swill?" Finn spat, pushing the teacup away so hard it rattled against the saucer. "I thought the Clemons family had taste. Apparently, bankruptcy takes everything, including the ability to brew tea."
Clay turned a shade of purple usually reserved for bruised fruit. "My apologies, Mr. Blackburn. I'll have the staff-"
"Forget it," Finn waved a gloved hand dismissively. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick document, slapping it onto the coffee table. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent room. "Sign. The funds transfer upon signature."
Alivia stood frozen near the fireplace, clutching the handle of a worn, vintage leather suitcase-her mother's. Its scuffed corners told more of a story than anything new ever could. She could feel the bodyguard's presence behind her like a heat source. She hadn't dared to look at him since the tea incident. Her mind was a chaotic whirlpool.
The voice. The smell. Why is the bodyguard the man from the hotel?
Clay didn't even read the first page. He flipped to the back, uncapped his fountain pen, and scribbled his name. He was selling his daughter for a liquidity injection, and he looked relieved.
"And the girl?" Finn asked, leaning back, his eyes raking over Alivia with deliberate, exaggerated lewdness. "Come here. Let me see what I bought."
Alivia's stomach churned. She didn't move.
"Alivia!" Clay hissed. He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her forward. "Show some respect!"
She stumbled, the heels of her worn-out boots skidding on the hardwood. She was going to fall right into Finn's lap.
A hard arm banded across her stomach, arresting her momentum instantly.
She was hauled back against a chest that felt like a steel plate. The bodyguard. Again.
This time, he didn't release her immediately. He held her there, his arm a solid bar across her midsection, her back pressed against him. She could feel the slow, powerful thud of his heart against her shoulder blades.
"She's not a dog," the bodyguard said.
The room went dead silent.
Clay looked affronted. "Excuse me? You're just the help. Speak when spoken to."
Finn, surprisingly, didn't reprimand his employee. He just smirked. "He gets protective of my property. Don't mind him."
The bodyguard leaned down. His lips brushed the shell of Alivia's ear.
"Breathe," he commanded. It was barely a sound, just a vibration of air. "They can't hurt you anymore."
Alivia looked up at him, her eyes wide behind her glasses. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring at Clay with a look of such concentrated malice that Alivia feared for her father's life.
"Right," Finn stood up, dusting off his suit. "We're done here. Grab your trash bag, sweetheart. We're leaving."
"Alivia," Brenda called out, her voice dripping with fake syrup. "Be a good wife. Don't embarrass us."
Alivia looked at the people who had raised her. The father who sold her. The stepmother who hated her. The sister who tormented her.
She felt the bodyguard's hand shift to the small of her back. A gentle, guiding pressure.
"Let's go," he said.
And for the first time in her life, Alivia obeyed a command without hesitation. Not because she was afraid, but because the man issuing it was the only thing standing between her and the abyss.
She walked out the front door, the cool autumn air hitting her face. She climbed into the back of the middle Escalade.
The bodyguard didn't get in the front. He climbed into the back seat, right next to her.
Finn took the jump seat opposite them.
As the heavy door slammed shut, sealing them in, Alivia pressed herself against the window, as far away from both men as possible.
She was trapped.
