Alison Storm

Chapter 6

Rhys

"Father." I come to a halt right in front of him.

He sits in his usual spot, his dark hair perfectly gelled back like it would be daily. I don't think I've seen one day when Marcus St. James didn't look perfectly styled.

He greets me with a nod, as he would every day "Rhys."

"I have information for you," I say. Directly asking my father why he sent me to protect Alison isn't going to get me far, so I will have to ask without asking.

"Do tell, son." He takes out his black notebook, opening it. Shortly after, he grabs a pen that looks like must have costs far more than anyone would ever pay for a silly pen.

Ever since I was little, my father has taught me to tell him everything I've been told. It never matter if my friends told me private information, I was always forced to tell him.

The older I got, the better I got at learning how to keep information from him. I've come to the conclusion that my father was pretty manipulative when I turned ten. He used thing I've told him about my friends for his benefit, so yes, I had to learn how to lie without it being obvious.

"Alison Rose has a nickname nobody knows about," I say.

"Interesting. Must be an awkward one when they don't let anyone know," my father says, taking notes.

Cheeseball. It's fucking adorable. "They call her Sparkles." Or I do, but let's not talk about that. My father doesn't know.

"Sparkles? Makes sense."

It takes all of my willpower not to punch my father in the face. "That's what I thought. She's more of a bitch in private too. Materialistic and mouthy." Lies. All fucking lies.

I think?

I hope she's nothing like that, if I'm being honest.

"Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less from Storm to raise his kids like that," my father says, sighing. "I'm sorry you have to spend time with such a brat, Rhys."

"None sense, father. It's my job." Though, is it? "Though, I do wonder what you need all these information for. Storm made me sign an NDA and you know what will happen when word gets out I opened my mouth."

My father waves his hand around, dismissing any consequences for me. "Safety reasons, Rhysy. If he were to threaten us some day, so we have something against him."

Yeah, right. "Did you know Mr. Storm wasn't the one to hire me?"

False surprise crosses my father's face. And how do I know it's fake? His eye twitches. It only ever does when he is lying. "Then who did?"

I shrug. "Must have been Mrs. Storm, I suppose." It wasn't her.

"Yes, must have." And again, his eye twitches. "Did you speak to him? Rhys, did he fire you?"

I almost laugh right into my father's face.

"No. In fact, he figured it was a great idea of his wife's."

—

"Good morning there, St. James," Alison greets me as she comes walking out of her house. Or the gate, to be precise. I just bet she had to take on a ten minute walk to even reach the gate to their house.

"Morning, Alison." I hold out a Starbucks cup for her. As my research has told me, Alison loves coffee. If you can even call it that. Any coffee that isn't plain coffee cannot be called that. And I mean, when you have to order iced coffee with almond milk, caramel drizzle and god knows how many other extra ingredients, that is no longer coffee. Period.