Other children had gone home an hour ago, but Holland was still here by 3 pm. Her father was not a caring man. Even If he was so busy, I wondered what stopped him from sending someone over to get her. Formerly, her driver used to take her home. Even though I didn't quite like the driver and thought him to be fishy, it was better than now. At least then, Holland went home early. Since her dad started taking her home alone, she started going home late. I hadn't seen the man yet, but I did not like him.
The funny part of the whole thing was that it was still the same driver who came out of the car to pick up Holland. Her dad would remain in his tinted Jaguar, not bothering to come down. So I wondered what difference it made whether he joined the driver or not. It just wasn't right, but then again, maybe he didn't care. I wondered if Holland's mother was alive; perhaps she was dead. It was probably the cause of the little girl's sad eyes. Losing a mother could be heart-wrenching, especially if you have an irresponsible, busy father like I presumed Holland did.
It broke my heart to see how miserable she was. I wished that I could do something, anything, to be by her side always. If I were allowed to be a mother to her or maybe even a caretaker, it would give me so much joy and peace. But that would mean me either getting married to her father or being employed by him, and I didn't see any of those options happening in this lifetime.
Pushing my sad thoughts aside, I poked her nose, making a funny face. She laughed a little, but her face remained buried in her drawing book. I lifted her and took her to my chair across the door so we could know when her Father would come.
I glanced at the wall clock and inhaled deeply. I was getting impatient.
I carried Holland on my legs and placed her book on the table. Then I raised her chin with my pointer finger to see her eyes. "Don't worry. Dad will soon be here, alright, and if he doesn't show up, I'll take you home with me. Would you like to go home with Aunty Samantha?" Her eyes lit up as she nodded in the affirmative.
I smiled, trying to sound and look as cheerful as possible. "Yeh! So don't be sad, ok. I know Daddy will come soon."
She didn't smile back, which was unlike her. She looked like she would sob, as though my words had upset her instead of comforting her.
I immediately felt guilty.
I pulled her into a warm embrace, feeling the urge to protect her. She rested her head on my shoulders and sniffed while I played with her hair.
She was so small and so beautiful she was an Angel. A sad Angel and I didn't know why that was.
"Good afternoon." A deep voice greeted startling me.
I whirled my head around and jumped to my feet, not letting go of Holland's hand.
The man standing in front of me was not Holland's driver. Hollands driver doesn't greet me. He usually dashes in, takes Holland, and dashes out without acknowledging my existence. All the more reasons why I didn't like him. I sometimes felt like he didn't want me to know him, which made me suspicious of him. Maybe I was overthinking things, but he was Shady.
The man standing before me was her father, and he was breathtaking. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, tall and athletically built. He had a clean cut with a shiny goatee and bristle eyebrows that highlighted his deep grey eyes. He had a devil-may-care outlook and a dashing smile. He completely enthralled me.
"I see the secret of Holland's beauty and smooth golden skin now," I muttered.
He blinked at me, and God, all I could think of was why men have lashes they didn't need.
I cleared my throat. "Good afternoon, Sir." I greeted.
He nodded, then looked away from me to glance at his daughter. "Holland baby. Come." He said with those perfect plump pink lips that made my heart skip.
Holland immediately left me and ran to her dad. She was feeling rather shy. She hugged his legs, and he lifted her from the ground with a chuckle and kissed her. I thought she flinched, but it must have been my mind playing tricks on me. He settled her on his hips and stared at me curiously. "You must be the famous Samantha?" He asked, quacking a perfect brow up.
"Y..y..yes." I stuttered. I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly through my mouth. "Yes, sir," I repeated, clearing my throat.
"Thanks for looking out for my daughter."
My heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in my throat. I swallowed. "It's my duty, Sir."
He started coming closer, so I stood up, adjusting my skirt.
Samantha tell him he has been a shitty Dad! Tell him!
He smiled, patting me softly on the arm with his free hand. "You are doing it well. Do take care of yourself, alright? It was nice meeting you."
I nodded. "The pleasure is mine, Sir."
He turned to leave. Only then did I release the breath I didn't even know I was holding.
I watched through the glass window as the car that conveyed them drove off.
I stupidly forgot to tell him to look into picking Holland up on time. I facepalmed, embarrassed at how I was dazzled by him. He wreaked of power, wealth, and affluence and smelt like mystery. He was the perfect man to sweep me off my feet if only he were a better father to Holland.
You got the opportunity to pour your heart out to him, and you stupidly lost it, Samantha!
I wanted to believe I had forgotten what I had planned to say to him while he was standing before me, but I knew better. It was more than that. I knew that my heart stopped beating at a normal pace when my eyes met his.