"Do I really need security all the time?" I asked Robert at one of our weekly dinners with my parents a month into our "dating." I wasn't ready to bring Robert to Thursday night dinner, so we joined Mom and Dad at a restaurant or their house on Tuesdays instead. Robert insisted that it was vital for us to be seen in public with my parents, though he had yet to introduce me to his father because he was out of the country, and we had only had dinner with his sister once.

"Many people would like to use you as leverage against me," Robert answered. The day the story about our relationship broke, he had insisted on placing a security team with me around the clock.

"It's not like someone is going to kidnap me in broad daylight," I protested, thinking of the security escort that had accompanied me to the art gallery with Uncle George that afternoon. Marcus had laughed at my discomfort, but my uncle took everything in stride.

"Why not? Who would stop them?" Robert's voice had an edge of annoyance. We had already discussed my security when we were alone, but bringing it up in front of my parents was a new level.

"It's a reasonable concern," my mother agreed, her calm voice ratcheting down the tension. I glared at her, and she shrugged. "You are now dating one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. It is wise of him to be cautious, and it shows me that he genuinely is concerned for your safety."

"It makes more sense than announcing to the world you are dating and then leaving you at risk," my dad added.

Robert smiled and leaned back in his chair. He had won this argument definitively. Even Beth was okay with his caution. Knowing what I knew of people, I wasn't sure why the security team bothered me. Perhaps it was its uselessness. If someone wanted to kill me, they would find a way to try, security or not.

Dad and Robert launched into a conversation while Mom brought me to look at the art she had recently installed in one of her sitting rooms. She liked to get my opinion on the placement and lighting. I looked back at my father and fake boyfriend when they burst into laughter. They had definitely hit it off, their shared love of community organizations being a great launching point.

I had been unaware of Robert's charity until one of our family dinners. It turned out that Robert had helped a friend set up a non-profit at school in New York and then established another branch when he went to graduate school with another friend. Although he didn't run the non-profits, he started them up and ensured they stayed on track. My father had partnered with one of the branches for a community event a few years before, but everything about Robert's involvement was pretty hush-hush.

"I try to keep it that way as much as possible. The Lamb name is a double-edged sword, and I want these groups to fly under the radar and get the job done," Robert explained a few weeks later when I asked him about it at another family meal. This one had been at my father's favorite Cuban restaurant a few nights before Robert went away on his last-minute LA trip.

My mother nodded in agreement. "We use the Mason name when it is helpful, like at the auction, but often we use Diaz when doing charity work. It keeps it from becoming a zoo when we don't want it to be."

I hadn't realized it before, but Mom was right. Some of my favorite volunteering experiences were when we all put on baseball hats and worked together to clean empty lots or build new houses without any pomp and circumstance that came with a Mason-led event.

"So, I hear you are going down to LA on Friday," my father said after paying for the meal. Robert may have been worth five or more times than my family, but my parents always insisted on paying when we went out, and Robert was always gracious about it.

"Yes, Catherine gave me some good leads, and I need to head down there to firm things up," Robert glanced at my mom, who nodded in response but didn't smile like I expected. She almost seemed upset about something, but it passed before I could overthink it. My brain zoned out as they talked more about business, and I examined the vivid art on the wall. One caught my attention, and I stood and walked to it without thinking. Robert followed me to the familiar-looking painting.

"I saw the real one at an exhibition once," I told Robert after staring at the surrealist painting for a little while. "I never would have thought such a disturbing piece of art would be on a restaurant wall."

"Most people see the colors and lines without really thinking about the work itself," Robert answered, examining the painting with me. "I've not seen this before."

"Wilfredo Lam's La Jungla, he's a well-known Cuban artist. He trained in Europe and was a contemporary of Picasso. The real painting is gigantic; it would take up this entire wall, and you can really see the violence hidden between the figures in the sugar cane. Surrealism has never been where I gravitated to, but I appreciate the innovation and surprise the artist brings to every canvas."

"I love the way you love art," Robert announced, placing his arm around my shoulder and rubbing it lightly. I smiled and laid my head on his shoulder. At that moment, the busy noise of the restaurant faded, and it was just Robert, me, and the painting. I let myself imagine that this relationship was real, that Robert cared about me, that he was nothing like his nephew.

"Do you remember seeing this when we visited New York?" My father's voice interrupted the fleeting moment. I brought myself back to reality and stepped out of Robert's arms.

"Yes," my mother answered instead of me. "If I remember correctly, this painting is how Nikki got us to MoMA despite our busy schedule."

"It was just one exhibit; it didn't take too long," I defended weakly. I would have doubted my lineage if I hadn't known about the artists in both of my parents' families. Getting them to stop and look at one exhibit had taken me hours of persistence.

"No, it didn't, and we all enjoyed it," my father frowned at my mother, who shrugged and walked with him through the exit to where our car was waiting.

"I'd love to go to a museum with you," Robert said quietly into my hair. "And we could spend all the time you want there."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind." As I made the insincere promise, I felt a flutter in my chest. My attraction towards Robert had grown during our time together, and I couldn't deny it. However, we didn't discuss our relationship status again, leaving me uncertain about where we stood. Just then, he put his arm around my waist, and I felt my heart race as we followed my parents, lost in my thoughts about him.

Robert pulled me closer to him. Then he spoke, his voice low and urgent. "Let's go to my car."

I hesitated, feeling a knot form in my stomach. This sudden change in plans made me uneasy. Still, I followed him to his car.

As we walked, I noticed how tense he seemed. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes cold and angry. Once we reached the car, Robert opened the passenger door and motioned for me to enter.

"I'll take you home today if that's alright with you," Robert offered as he joined me in the car.

I looked at him quizzically. "Sure, but why? You don't have to go out of your way for me."

Robert's gaze shifted towards my parents. "Didn't you see who your parents were talking to just now?"

"No," I replied, turning my head to get a better look at my parents and the well-dressed couple they were conversing with through the dark-tinted window. It wasn't until the car moved enough for me to see the profile of the man my parents were talking to that my chest tightened in understanding. Tim and Lisa had appeared out of nowhere, their arms linked as they openly chatted with my parents in Downtown.

"I guess they are going public," I commented as we drove away from the scene before Tim could notice us.

"Yes, it seems that they have," Robert replied sternly, emphasizing each word. The tranquility we had achieved was now shattered, and on the drive back to my parents' house, Robert remained silent, only responding to the continuous stream of incoming text messages.

"You should move in next week like we originally planned," Robert said as the car pulled to my gate. I had dragged my feet about moving in. I considered it a big step, almost akin to engagement and was afraid of being alone with him most of the time. But my parents had agreed after a closed-door discussion with Robert. I couldn't believe my living with a man they barely knew didn't phase my parents nearly as much as I thought it would.

"Oh, I thought you wanted me to wait until you returned." My heart thudded with anxiety. Why the change of plans?

"I'd feel better if you were there while I am away. I know you will be safe at my place. I'll have Joe arrange the movers before we leave," Robert replied. Something in his voice and tone stopped any hesitation I had. I picked up one of his hands and squeezed it to comfort him.

"Okay, I don't think I'll need movers. I'll just have Beth help me," I answered.

"Okay, but call Joe if you change your mind. He'll be with me, but can still arrange things up here. And thank you." Robert's shoulders relaxed, and he leaned over to kiss my cheek lightly. "I will see you tomorrow. We can do some last-minute shopping before I leave."

"Sure," I nodded and stepped out of the car as his driver opened the door. Robert moved to get out as well, but I waved him off. "You're busy. My parents are coming up the drive now. You can go. I'll be okay."

Robert nodded, and another text buzzed as the driver closed the door, blocking my view.

Whatever he protected me from had upset him enough that he forgot to say goodbye.

I turned into the house and dialed Beth's number. I knew she wouldn't tell me anything without some work, so I just explained the change in plans. She sounded relieved as well, and I looked around my parents' large home and wondered why everyone thought living with Robert would be safer. I, on the other hand, thought nothing could be farther from the truth.

***

"I can NOT believe he convinced Mom and Dad to let me move in," I declared as I fell back on the bed in my new room.

Robert cleared out the guest room I had stayed in before and refurbished it with items I chose. It was really fun shopping with him, especially when we went to the art store. As I glanced at the art nook that he had helped me create, I couldn't help but sigh. The lighting was even better than at Beth's house, and the area had been custom-built to hold all of my supplies in an easy-to-find way. He even had someone install a small sink on the balcony so I could clean my brushes. I hadn't noticed the balcony on my first visit to the room because a curtain covered it, but it was a perfect space large enough for a chair, easel, and sink. Since it was pretty high, I asked Robert to install the fall guards to prevent me from getting nervous or falling over the edge accidentally. Now, there was a very high plexiglass wall jutting up from the stone railing that didn't prevent the sunlight from coming through the window but would prevent me from falling over the edge or getting pushed.

"If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it either," Beth admitted, hanging the last of my shirts in the closet before collapsing next to me. We had been moving my things in all day. It wasn't that I had a lot. It was just that I kept having to go back to her apartment or my parent's house to grab something I had forgotten. Other than the art space, I didn't want to buy a whole new set of things like I had for my room at Beth's apartment. I wanted it to feel more temporary here, so I brought stuff from my parents and Beth's homes to remind me of the other places. I hoped it would ground me.

Beth thought I had turned a new leaf and would be less conspicuous in my consumption. That might be true. Tim's spending habits taught me how to be frugal with my own, and it was an unintentional positive outcome of our time together.

Since Robert was in Los Angeles, we were left to finish the move on our own. Well, almost, considering we had the housekeeper and security guards around. Daisy, the housekeeper, told me to rearrange the kitchen. She mentioned that Robert rarely used it, so I could change it as much as I wanted. Beth found it amusing that two people who barely cooked were living together, and when Daisy showed her the prepared meals she left daily, which only made Beth laugh even more, we decided to keep the kitchen the way Daisy liked it.

That night, under the watchful eye of Anita, the overnight indoor security guard, Beth and I enjoyed one of the prepared meals and a good bottle of wine. Since I didn't have Robert's permission to touch his expensive wine collection, we opted to drink a bottle I had brought. Robert had generously made space for my wine in his wine cooler, which was cleverly hidden behind a false wall in the kitchen. To access it, you just had to apply a slight push to the bottom of the wall. While placing my wine in the cooler, I was impressed by Robert's collection, which included some of my favorite wineries and vintages and others I had yet to try. Fortunately, my wines held up well against his, so I didn't feel like I was wasting any space.

When Daisy gave us a living room tour, she revealed a hidden TV behind another false wall. The room was equipped with surround sound, so we watched an action-packed sci-fi series to experience the full high-quality audio and video.

"Something has been distracting you, Beth," I accused gently as we finished the third episode of our binge-watch. She had looked at her phone several times during each episode and never seemed to relax fully.

"Yes," she admitted, putting her phone down with a sigh. "Something is happening at the company."

"Oh, something I should or shouldn't know about?" My neck stiffened, and I tried not to have the suspicious reaction that had become knee-jerk whenever I felt something was being kept from me. Tim encouraged this habit while we were married; even in this new life, I had to work to suppress it.

"Something I was hoping would go away before you knew about it, but I'm not sure it will." Beth turned to me and met my eyes, her posture sobering me immediately. This was Beth in protective mode. She had to think whatever was bothering her would hurt me.

"Beth, I trust you," I put a hand on her arm, trying to reassure her with touch. "If you think I shouldn't know yet, don't tell me."

"Nikki," Beth breathed out, her voice almost sounding disappointed. "I want you to be someone I'm not afraid to tell things to. I want you to be less fragile."

"Beth, I'm stronger than you think," I responded, trying not to sound angry. She couldn't know what I had been through in my last life or how resilient I had become. The only Nicole she knew was the delicate artist who locked herself into her studio for days whenever something upset her. I hadn't done that since that first week back, but she couldn't know that was because I had become more confident, not because she had protected me.

"Your aunt is pushing the board of directors to list the company publicly," Beth admitted with what looked like relief. "If it works, you won't be able to own it unless your mother can get the majority of shares."

"I thought we already had shareholders," I hadn't done well in business class, even if I had double majored in it. Though I completed my major requirements, it was only because Beth coached me through every assignment. The design major had been so much more my thing, but I had to make my mother happy, or at least that's what I thought at the time.

"We do, but it is still a privately held company," Beth sighed again. "Don't try to understand, Nikki. Your mother and her team are working on contingencies, but some of it isn't falling into place like we want."

"Is that why Mom and Robert have been talking privately after some of our dinners?"

Beth raised an eyebrow and looked mildly impressed at my insight.

"Probably, but I can't say for sure." Beth put her arm around my shoulder and picked up the remote to start the next episode, a sign she was done talking about the subject.

I tried not to dwell on it, but my mind kept returning to Robert's last-minute trip, and I wondered how he was involved with my mother's plan. I hated that everyone was doing things behind my back like I was a child. Maybe Tim had been right about this one thing. I glanced over at Beth and shook the errant thought from my head. No, they were protecting me. It was an act of love, not deception. And Robert's trip had to be unrelated to Beth's worries.

However, a seed planted can still grow roots, even if the shoot is cut. I had been fooled by those I loved in my last life and wouldn't let it happen again.  

WC3065

RT23,121