Perfectly Damaged
Page 6I continue to admire him silently. Gregory McDaniel is a man who exudes power. His title as CEO of The McDaniel Corporation speaks for itself. The moment my father enters a room, everyone and everything in it instantly gets smaller, dwarfed by his mere presence. He may frighten others, but never have I seen my father as anything but that—my dad. With my mother or me, the tough businessman and CEO instantly turns into a big pile of mush. Just as he does right now, when his eyes scan the foyer and meet mine. His mouth twitches into a huge smile. “Stanley, just take care of it,” he says sternly as he winks and walks my way.
“Hi, Daddy.”
He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. “Hello, beautiful. Going for a swim, I see.” His arm finds its way around my shoulder and he pulls me in close, guiding me as we walk together.
“Yes. Would you like to join me?”
“Sorry, sweetheart, I have a conference call in five minutes and then a hot date tonight.” He winks.
I smile, knowing his hot date is indeed my mother. Regardless of what others interpret my parents’ relationship to be, I’ve only ever seen one thing between them: love. That’s one of the things I love most about my father—the love he has for her. The way he looks at her and the small, intimate gestures he manages with ease, all proves how much he loves her. And as much as my mother and I can’t see eye-to-eye ninety percent of the time, I appreciate the love she has for him too. Love like theirs is rare; it happens once in a lifetime. It’s the kind of love others envy.
“Jenna, what is this?” my father asks. My gaze follows his pointed finger to the round mahogany table in the center of our foyer. Beside the large pear-shaped vase, filled with fresh long-stemmed yellow roses, is a medium-sized black toolbox with a silver inscription: Reed Construction.
“Oh, that belongs to the contractor who’s going to be working on the guesthouse. They must’ve left it behind after Mom and I met with them yesterday.”
Two hours. That’s how long it takes for my fingertips to wrinkle like tiny prunes. I’m drained from repeatedly swimming laps. It’s time to call it quits. Although the sun has set, the air is still muggy, and I pull myself out regretfully, wishing I could stay in the cool water a little while longer. My phone blinks on top of the towel, but I ignore it after seeing that it’s a missed call from my mother, probably checking in to see if I burned the house down. I’m sure of it.
I toss my phone aside, grab the towel, and begin drying myself off. I brush the towel over my shoulder and biceps and down toward my wrist. My wrist. My naked wrist. The bracelet is gone.
Every muscle and nerve in my body grows raw as I panic. I drop the towel and search the lounge chair anxiously. Nothing. My eyes scan over the cobblestone patio around me. Nothing. I trace my steps back to the edge of the pool. Nothing. Where can it be? I need that bracelet.
I need it.
I need it.
I need it!
I’m going to cry; my vision turns hazy as my lungs tighten in anticipation.
My lungs burn, and I can’t be certain if it’s my rage or a lack of oxygen causing the pain. How could I be so damn careless? As my mind races, my legs grow increasingly numb. Terror is setting in. I’m rapidly losing the ability to swim back up to the surface. If I could breathe, I’d be hyperventilating right now. I’m having a meltdown underwater. I can feel it; I’m about to break. I pull my legs into my chest and wrap my arms around them tightly. I wish I could say this is the first time I’ve been in this situation, but it’s not. I know all too well what I need to do to calm myself down and get the hell out of here. With my eyes firmly shut, I try to focus on something blissful as I hold my breath. The silence beneath the water is soothing, peaceful even. Down here, there are no voices haunting my thoughts.
A calm, pleasant feeling finally settles over me.
And it’s taken away from me in an instant. One second I’m enjoying the silence, and the next I feel a vice-like grip around my arm tugging me upward. I break the surface, shocked and gasping for air, and swallow a mouthful of chlorine water. It burns my nostrils and lungs.
“What the hell?” I cough out. My hands and knees slam against the concrete that borders the pool.
“Are you okay?” a gruff voice huffs out.
Who?
What?
In a daze, I look up to see a man, completely drenched, leaning over with his hands on his knees. His head is hung low and his whole body rises and falls slightly as he tries to regulate his breathing. I scatter to my feet, jump back, and glare at him. “Who the hell are you?”
His head lifts and… Blue. He has the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re a pale, misty blue with thin streaks of grey and flecks of shimmering gold surrounding the pupil. Thunder, lightning, one hell of a storm—that’s what I see when I look in his eyes. Yeah, he’s a walking storm, all right, and his hypnotizing eyes grow darker as he narrows them in annoyance.
He huffs out as he straightens, revealing broad shoulders and an over six-foot frame. “I’m Logan?” The way he says it makes it seem like I should know who he is. I raise my brows and urge him to continue. “I work with my uncle.” I shake my head again. “Reed Construction,” he finally says.
“Oh.” I wet my lips and the taste of chlorine assaults my tongue. “What are you doing here?”
His face has morphed into full annoyance at this point. “My uncle called your mom. He left his toolbox here and needs it for a project tomorrow. Your mother said she’d let you know I was on my way.”
“Oh.” That would explain the missed call. I wipe away the few soaked strands of hair plastered against my forehead. The naked wrist crossing in front of my face sidetracks me. Dammit, I need that bracelet. I turn around and walk to the edge of the pool, leaning over to scan the clear surface. There’s nothing there to see.
Discouraged, I turn back to the wet man. “What the hell was all that about?” I snap, nudging my head toward the pool.