Toy Soldiers (Helford #1)

(19) Patriarch

“Come on, Caitie,” Jonathon whined, holding out his hand for me to take, but I didn’t budge. “I thought we agreed today that you weren’t going to panic.”

“This isn’t me panicking,” I explained to him, my voice breathy. My hands gripped at the hem of my shirt, twisting it nervously, as I continued, “Panic and terror are different. We agreed that I wouldn’t panic, but not that I wouldn’t be terrified.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling. “Caitie, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Says you,” I muttered, then winced.

“It’s just my dad.”

Ah, yes, only Alexander DuPont. How silly of me.

I grimaced at him.

Jonathon had the idea last night that it was time that I met his father. It had been a week since we had become an official couple and, although I wouldn’t have minded in normal circumstances, the nerves had been eating away at me from the moment the words left his mouth. With thoughts swirling around my mind regarding the friendship of my mother and Jonathon’s fresh on my mind, I was on my toes again, wondering when I would take a step and it would be the wrong one, and it would become apparent that I knew something I shouldn’t. Rian hadn’t told a soul, or so I believed, but the assurance in that was few and far between.

I looked into Jonathon’s eyes and was glad that he had his father’s eyes. I might have let my composure slip if I had looked up into the eyes of his betrayed mother.

He reached out and grabbed my hand, tugging it, smiling. “He’s going to love you,” he assured me, smiling widely. “He’s been looking forward to meeting you since the night at the ball, been asking me to invite you to dinner, and he’s happy to hear that we’re together. He’s been asking me so many questions about you . . .”

My stomach flipped.

“There’s nothing to be worried about, Caitie,” he tried to tell me, but I was checking the buildings behind him, looking for the telltale sign of the sun reflecting off of a sniper’s scope. My eyes dragged over every civilian that passed, looking for gun holsters. I must have looked half out of my mind, and a part of me felt it.

I didn’t know how I would be able to face Alexander DuPont after seeing his reaction to the possibility of losing his son.

Not when I was going to be the one to take his son away from him.

“Caitie,” Jonathon said, smiling.

I looked at him, got lost in his eyes. I smiled back at him but felt the mask back in my place, no longer the Caitie that he could see through but the one that he never knew was acting. I allowed him to pull me up the stoop outside of his modest home, an unsuspecting brick façade although it was taller and thicker than three times my apartment building, attached directly to the two buildings beside it. I spotted the video cameras mounted in unsuspecting spots, destroying the guise of the home belonging to anyone other than the DuPont family. I looked past one of the cameras and wondered to myself if Rian was one of the men watching me from the other side, clearing me entry to the world beyond the dark wooden door before me.

Jonathon used a key to gain access but I had a feeling the security wasn’t quite that simple. He stepped out of the way of the door with a big smile, gesturing me to go in before him like a perfect gentleman. I stepped into the foyer, nervously running my hands over the skirt of my dress, for the first time feeling as though I might very well be underdressed.

I’ve come to notice that, with wealth, usually comes the personality of a selfish cynic. I based the stereotype of wealth around that personality trait, but none of that showed with Jonathon.