This was absolutely unacceptable.

All these years, all this time of burying her family name, of making sure that there was no way to trace her back to her father, and somehow, Jemina Reed was still being dragged into the family business. “I'm sorry but I refuse to be a part of this,” the young blonde said, running a hand through her hair as she stood up from the wooden chair. Her father sat on the other side of the mahogany desk, looking completely unfazed by the fact that his daughter had declined what it was he was offering.

“Look, sweetheart, I understand this is hard, but you have to know that it's too dangerous. It doesn't matter what you do. There are ways for my enemies to figure out who you are.”

Anger tore through her as she watched him. Blue eyes practically burned a hole through him. “I don't give a shit. All of this? You should have left it behind the day Mom died. It's not my fucking fault that you decided your dirty hands were more important than your family.” It was harsh for her to say, but Jemina felt like she had a point. She had begged and cried and pleaded with the older man before her to move away. To forget about the business deals and everything and just… start over.

Instead, he had come up with an excuse as to why he couldn't do that. It was all a load of bullshit and she still hadn't forgiven him for it fourteen years later. When she'd turned eighteen, she'd moved out, having saved up from her allowance over the those nine years since Delilah's murder to be able to do so. Nine years old and she was planning to move out…

Now, at twenty-five, she was practically thriving. Her career had taken off, she had three shows lined up, and she was able to live in a two-bedroom apartment comfortably. She was perfectly fine being left out of the shit that he had involved himself in.

Yet here she was, in his office, being told that she was going to be dealing with a bodyguard. Someone that he was assigning to her. It made her sick to her stomach. “You know, your ‘little friends’ wouldn't have found me if you have just stayed away.” If he had just stayed away from the theater, had avoided speaking with her completely, the assassin would've never tried to take the shot at her. If not for the fact that her choreography had changed, she would've been shot dead on the stage. She'd been fortunate to land the way she had when it sounded through the room. The bullet had left a hole in the background curtain and the audience in a panic.

Her father had been waiting in her room when security had brought her back. His security. And now she was here, makeup still plastered onto her face, tights torn from hitting the stage, and completely pissed off.

“It's only temporary, Jemmy. Just until I can get everything straight and get you back off the radar.” 

“A radar I wouldn't be back on if you had just left me alone…”

She almost sounded defeated as she grabbed the back of the chair, gripping it so tight her knuckles were turning white. “I'm sorry but I don't want your fucking bodyguard. I want to be left alone.”

“I can't let that happen now. You could've died today. I'm leaving you with a bodyguard and that is final. I won't lose the only thing I have left.”

Jemina scoffed. “Only thing left… right.” She wanted to storm out. She wanted to just leave him hanging. She didn't want to meet this so-called bodyguard he had hired. Fear, however, kept her in place. She could be angry all she wanted. The truth was that today had terrified her. It had been a long time since anyone had tried to kill her. Almost ten years prior… She quickly pushed the memories from her mind. She didn't need to think about that day. “Fucking… fine. Fine. I will take your bodyguard, but I am not going to stop dancing because of this. It just isn't going to happen. I'm at the top of the game right now and I won't let you ruin that.” Assassins be damned.