Twisted Proposal (27 page)

              “I mean…you just got here and …it’s like I don’t even exist,” she said again, more to herself.
Maybe if she knew what the Van Burens were all about. I mean she did admit to dating Jackson.

              “So, are we finished?”             

“Let me tell you how things work around here--“

              “I don’t care how things work, because I don’t intend on being a part of it. I want to go to class and go home. That’s it.”

              “Lame.” She got to her feet.

              “Maybe for someone without a plan.”

She rolled her eyes and joined a table of her friends, which included the girl with the dark red hair. Like I cared what she thought. I would squash her like a bug if I needed to. I returned to my computer.             

Two other guys tried to talk to me, but they disappeared in a matter of seconds.
Couldn’t they see I had some serious work to do!
Didn’t they get it? I didn’t want friends.              When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I packed up and went to my locker. Thankfully I had typed up all my assignments and organized them for the rest of the week. It made it easier to deal with. I packed my bag; grateful most of the books had online access so I didn’t have to lug them home with me.

Just as I suspected, no one was there to pick me up. I sat on a bench and waited. After ten minutes, three fourths of the school had left, and no one offered the new kid a ride home. It wasn’t like I knew my address anyway.

I went inside and left a message on Stuart’s phone, but 30 more minutes passed, and still no one showed. Since I didn’t have any cash, I decided to walk.
Now I was never going to get anything done.

              An hour later, I was tired and sore from my crazy morning workout and gym class. I peeled off my sweater and tied it around my waist. I was going to give Stuart an earful for this. This had totally shot my study time.
Where was he?
Didn’t he know what kind of school this was?
Hell, I wasn’t even sure all this homework was legal.

He didn’t mention anything about going to court, which why he was usually late getting home. I took a deep breath, wishing I had my phone and picked up my pace, continuing down the long asphalt road.
Maybe someone will drive by?
Or maybe I would come across a house or another street
.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It had to be about almost six when I heard the sound of car approaching. I stuck my thumb out and waited as a familiar dark grey car passed me and then backed up.
You have got to be kidding me. What was Mr. Van Buren doing out here?
The tinted window lowered, and Mr. Van Buren peered up at me. “Do you need a ride?”

“Not from you.” I would take my chances on my own. I turned away.

              “Suit yourself, but it’s about 20-plus miles to your house, young lady,” he yelled after me. I stopped.
Twenty more miles?
There was no way I was going to make it home before morning.  A whole night lost. I caved and returned to the passenger window. He opened the door and I eased into the car. My feet were killing me, and my face was dripping sweat.

              “I wanted to apologize for my son hitting you. He’s going to anger management classes to deal with his…outburst.” he started.

“It’s obviously not working.” I muttered. “Like it matters now. What’s done is done. I don’t know why you ever thought this would be a good idea. I mean, you don’t even know me.”

              “But I do. I’ve done business with women like you before.”

              “Women like me? You mean my mom? I’m not her.”

              ‘You’re more alike than you know.”

              The photo. “Did you go to school with them?”

“No,” he said, obviously not wanting to talk about it, because he turned on the radio. I was sure he was lying. I didn’t know what to say, so I looked out the window.

“Hey,” he said, placing a hand on my bare thigh. Butterflies rippled in my stomach.

“What?”
Why was he touching me?
The deep soft voice of Ella Fitzgerald filled the car.             

              “Why are you walking?” He removed his hand, and I could breathe again.

              “Stuart forgot, I guess. I left my phone at home and couldn’t get hold of him.” His car was impeccable. It smelled like mountain air. I wondered who took care of it.

              “You need to carry your cell phone. It’s important.”

              “Why? I did fine without one back in Illinois.”

              “But you’re here now and need a phone.”

There was no point arguing with him. He wasn’t going to change his mind.

“So want to tell me the
real
reason you’re walking?”

“That is the real reason, unless you’re insinuating that I knew you were going to go by at exactly--” I looked at my watch. “Oh I don’t know, 5:47p.m.? Please, I have better things to worry about than trying to get your attention.”

“I’m sure it was just an oversight.”

“I’m sure it was on purpose. Stuart should have left me in Illinois. Oh, but that would ruin your perfect plan now, wouldn’t it?” I threw his secret back at him.

He was unfazed. “You’re his daughter, and you deserve a good life, one that I can offer you. You’ve been through a lot.”

“You don’t know jack shit about me or what I’ve been through. So in the future, please refrain from doing me any more favors. I don’t need you or anyone else to feel sorry for me.”

“Living on the streets is not a good life, Addison.  And I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m giving you a chance. One that you never had.”

“Some chance.”

              “I admit, it’s going to be an adjustment for everyone, but in the end you’ll be fine.”

              “Keep telling yourself that. Did you know your son has all the symptoms of a sociopath? I looked them up. He should be in an institution.”

              “Jackson’s a lot like you, his mother died in a very…traumatic accident.”

              “Which he thinks you cause.”

              The look on his face silenced me.  “You need to be more compliant, and maybe things will settle down.”

              “So says everyone.” I swallowed. "Or maybe he'll kill me."

              We drove in silence for a few minutes, and guilt washed over me for the second time that day.
Maybe I needed to chill out.
He
was
giving me a ride home. The least I could do was be nice. “So why are you really out here? Are you stalking me like your son?”

              He sighed, “My youngest son was kicked out of his boarding school, and I was looking into Briarwood. I had a meeting with Dean Marshall at 5:30 p.m.”

              “I’m sorry.” I stole another glance at him. My heart skipped a beat.

“Uh…that’s all right. I can have my secretary reschedule.” He flashed me a quick smile. I turned away, feeling the heat rush to my face.
Geez!

              We were stopped at a light, and he was staring at me again. I couldn’t think straight. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. When that didn’t work, I closed my eyes and listened to the soft jazz music. The stress and fatigue must have caught up with me because I quickly drifted off into la la land.

              I jerked awake when something touched my leg. Mr. Van Buren was inches from my face. He slowly reached down and grabbed my satchel at my feet. He smelled like cigars and citrus. The scent was intoxicating. I licked my lips.
Kiss me.
Instead his hand grazed my knee.

              “You’re home,” he said, not taking his eyes off of me.

“Thank you,” I said, but it came out like a whisper.

Out of nowhere I felt the urge to kiss him, but he leaned back in his seat and shifted uncomfortably. Taking in my surroundings, I realized that I was indeed at the end of my driveway. I found my voice. “Thank you, again.”

“I thought it would be best if I dropped you off down here, so I wouldn’t have to ask Stuart why he didn’t pick up his beautiful daughter.” He grinned at me as though we shared a big secret.

“I’m not beautiful.”  As I opened the car door, I hesitated. “Is there something else I can do to get out of this contract?”

He looked at me, questioning, and then smiled. “I never break a contract I write. It’s bad business.” The confident expression of ownership on his face gave me chills. I left without another word.

              When I stomped into the house, everyone was in the dining room eating.

              “About time you showed up,” Stuart said, strolling into the hall to greet me.

“Yeah, I would have been here sooner, except
someone
forgot to pick me up.”

“Oh, I thought…” He stared over his shoulder at Petra, who pretended not to see him. “I’m sorry about that. Why don’t you come join us?”

“I would rather choke on a bone.” I plodded upstairs.

              If I could make things extremely uncomfortable between Jackson and his father, then maybe they would forget about this whole arranged marriage. I sat down at my desk and started my homework. 

When I was finished, I took a jog on the treadmill to relax, since I was grounded. I had to figure out what my next move was. My feet pounded the machine's track while I pondered my choices.

“You like to run,” Stuart commented, when I was finished. I whirled around. He was standing in the doorway.
How long had he been watching me?

Ignoring him, I went upstairs and fixed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

              “I’ll make sure someone’s there to pick you up after school tomorrow. It was an oversight by Petra,” Stuart admitted, leaning on the counter.

“I know she doesn’t like me.”

              “No, she just doesn’t know you.”

              “Whatever. I don’t like her or
you
.” I put away the peanut butter, and he was gone. Homework was waiting.

Just before midnight, I finally crawled into bed. This schedule was a killer, and it would take all of my concentration to catch up on the missed work. As I settled into my pillows, my phone rang. Someone must have picked it up and put it on my desk, which was where I found it. There were thirteen messages from Jackson, all of them threatening and angry because I hadn't responded. So I called him back. I had no idea what time it was in Milan, and I didn’t care.
Maybe he would like a taste of his own medicine!

He answered on the second ring. “Now you call. What do you want?”

“I left my phone on my desk.”

              “And you expect me to believe that?”

              “Believe what you want, Jackson, and what was that crap this morning? I didn’t deserve that.”

He blew his nose. He sounded stuffy, like he had been crying. “I told you to get up and work out and you didn’t, so I had to resort to extreme measures.”

              “What’s wrong?”

              “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Oh and are you telling people we're dating? I had a lovely encounter from that Carli chick.”              

              “I’m not telling anyone anything. No one needs to know our business.”

              “Exactly. Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

              “So, what did you think of your first day?”

              “Briarwood? It was school. In fact, I just finished my homework.” Truth be told, it was fantastic. I loved the pace, the books, and even the know-it-all teachers. “So, where are you again?”

“On my way home.”

              “If I wake up at 5:30 and jog will that suffice?”
I don’t know why I was asking his permission.

“Of course.”

“Good night, Jackson.”

              “'Night, Addison.”

Why did I even call him?

              The next morning I went jogging before class and still managed to make it to the bathroom first again. I had to admit it was easier already knowing what I was going to wear. I remembered to grab my phone this time and went downstairs.

              “Here.” Stuart met in the foyer with a glass of orange juice. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

              “So, who brought you home yesterday?” he asked as he pulled out of the driveway.

              “Mr. Van Buren.”

              He stopped the car. “Are you serious?”

              “Yes, I had been walking for about an hour, and he said he was on his way to talk to Dean Marshall about enrolling his son in Briarwood or something.”

              “Really?” He shifted the car into gear, and we rolled forward.

“Yep.” I drained the juice before it ended up all over my uniform.

              “Well, as much as I’d love to believe you, I don’t. Both of his sons are
already
enrolled in Briarwood Junior high. If you want to lie, Addison, you’re going to have to come up with a better one that that.”

“I’m not lying. That’s what he told me.”

“What really happened? Did some boy bring you home? I know you and Jackson are hooking up. Just so you know, I don’t approve.”

              “Like I had a choice and since when do you care?” I growled, feeling the rage course through my veins.
I would show him.
I yanked out my cell phone and called Jackson.

“Who are you calling this early?” Stuart demanded.

“Sunshine,” Jackson answered.

              “Don’t 'sunshine' me. Let me speak to your father.”

              The phone went silent. At first I thought he’d hung up.

              “Good morning, Addison. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Mr. Van Buren said calmly.

              “You’re in Milan too? Great.” I muttered.

“I typically accompany my son on business, but no he’s home. Now what do you want?” He said.

“Would you inform my father that you gave me a ride, yesterday?”

              Stuart leaned toward me, his face reddening with anger. “What? You have his personal number?”

  Mr. Van Buren remained cool and unflappable. “Now you know I can’t do that. It would make me look… suspicious. And the mere fact that you’re talking to me probably has your father in an uproar. So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to tell him Jackson picked you up from school. He was in the area, and I don’t want to hear any more about this. I don’t need to reiterate how inappropriate it is for you to be calling me. Do we have an understanding?”

“No, asshole, we don’t have an understanding on anything.” I hung up the phone. I couldn’t believe the nerve of him.
What was the big fricken deal?
He gave me a ride home; it wasn’t like we had sex or anything.

“Did you…did you just call my boss an asshole?” Stuart screamed.

              “Yes, and he’s a bigger dick than you.”

“You are so grounded, young lady; he’s going to fire me.”

              “He is not.”

              “I can’t believe you. You do not go around calling people bad names. It’s inappropriate. Didn’t your mother teach you anything? If I still have a job when I get home, we’re getting you a first class ticket to boarding school.”