Freed by Him Read online

  Hanging up the phone, I sighed, closing my eyes and rubbing the back of my neck with my right hand.

  "Fucking fuck," I cursed under my breath. I hated having to play the bitch, especially with people that I was actually quite fond of. I might be good at it, but that didn’t mean I had to enjoy it.

  A stern "Language, young lady!" made me smile and spin round to face to the front of my office where my father stood in the doorway.

  It had obviously been loud enough for him to catch. Despite his reprimand he was smiling at me, "What was that about?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow, out of curiosity rather than a need to know.

  I've been pretty much running the company's operations for the last year, and I know he has total faith in my abilities.

  "VDC were late with delivery. They should have been there yesterday morning, but there was an unexpected delay. Unfortunately for them it’s their second such issue in recent months. It'll be there by close of play today, which still gives us plenty of time to get everything set up, but I'm not having them fu...." I paused for a second and corrected myself, "messing us around. I've told them we're not paying the full shipping fee.”

  He nodded at me and smiled before changing the subject.

  After a health scare the previous year he was stepping back from the business more and more. He seemed content to leave the day to day running to me.

  "Your mother is attempting dinner again at 6.30 tonight. Don't be late!"

  He winked at me as I groaned and scrunched up my face.

  My mother wasn't known for her culinary expertise. What she lacked in skill she tried to make up for in enthusiasm. It rarely worked.

  "I'll be there, but I won't be staying late. I'm flying out tomorrow.”

  I got up from my seat and walked round to my father, linking my arm through his.

  "Actually … come on, let's head off now."

  "You sure? If you show the workers how much of a daddy's girl you really are, you'll lose your ball breaker name tag.” He whispered solemnly.

  I don't know if it was the shock of realising my adored father knew my reputation, although obviously he would, or if it was just the way he smirked at me but I burst out laughing.

  Grabbing my keys, laptop and bag, I walked out of my office with my father.

  He walked on ahead as I told my secretary I was heading home. I glanced around and saw a few furtive glances in my direction and smiled, knowing that they’d heard my outburst.

  Maybe it was good for them to see that there was occasionally another side to me.

  I had a good relationship with my team and had worked with the majority of them closely for the last few years, but laughter was a sound they rarely heard from me. I was always friendly and considered myself a good employer, but I was professional and focused.

  Anna assured me all the paperwork I would need for my overseas meeting was already at home for me. My itinerary had been emailed, and all my travel arrangements had been confirmed.

  I bid her goodbye and wished her a good weekend, before following after my father.

  I enjoyed catching up with my parents. My mother had always insisted on a family dinner so that we all had the chance to sit around the table and catch up.

  It had been that way for as long as I could remember. It had been weekly when we were young children, but, since we’d grown up it had moved to once a fortnight.

  My sister had moved abroad with her husband a few years before, but we still continued with the tradition even though it was just the three of us now.

  Nevertheless a couple of hours had been more than sufficient and I was happy to head home.

  I pulled up outside my house and smiled as I noticed all the lights had been left on.

  Anita, my housekeeper, hated that I lived alone and worried about me coming back to a dark empty house at night. In fact she probably nagged me more than my own mother about needing a man to share my home with and my lack of love or social life.

  I continually pointed out that I was more than capable of looking after myself. Having studied Krav Maga, a form of martial arts and self defence, for almost five years, I was in peak physical fitness.

  Unless people knew me and my role, I was often overlooked as no more than window dressing. With long blonde hair and blue eyes, standing 5 foot 6 inches and a petite build, I was fit and toned thanks to my exercise regime.

  I had been viewed as a daddy's girl who had been handed the golden goose. I'd worked hard to prove myself within the company, but new contacts had taken persuading. It irritated the hell out of me but had also been beneficial, allowing me to tie negotiations up in knots before they realised what and whom they were dealing with due to their lame arsed assumptions.

  Thankfully, the last few years had put paid to that, and my reputation was now well established, for good or bad.

  Letting myself into the house, I kicked off my shoes by the door and hit the flashing voicemail button on my landline.

  The voice of my secretary rang out, advising me that a car would pick me up slightly later than arranged at 6am.

  I dropped my keys on the table and walked into the kitchen.

  This was my favourite place in the house. Large with a huge island in the middle of the room, high gloss cream units contrasted with walnut work tops and the far wall consisted of a glass sliding door running the whole length of the room, with shutters for privacy. The floor felt warm underfoot thanks to the under floor heating that Anita had left on for me.

  I loved my house; I’d moved in just under a year after returning from university and had decorated it to suit myself. This was my haven. I walked to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water and headed upstairs to pack.

  Lena

  What had started off as a relatively local shipping company based mainly out of Southampton and servicing throughout the UK, had grown over the last decade into a small empire with hubs located throughout Europe.

  After dropping out of university, I'd come back home and convinced my father that my heart belonged within his company.

  I’d argued that I didn't need a degree and that, if needs be, I'd work my way up from the bottom, which, nearly six ago, is exactly what he made me do.

  Finally, three years ago he'd promoted me to Director of Operations, before promoting me again last year to Vice CEO.

  Under my instruction we’d bought out and taken over two smaller competitors thus expanding our operations even further afield.

  At times I'd questioned my sanity, fighting for a job in an industry I knew nothing about. The reception from colleagues initially had been cold. Whether they believed I was there as a spy for my father, or that I simply just didn't belong, I wasn’t sure, but either way I'd worked hard and earned their respect.

  My father had insisted, much to my mother’s chagrin, that I start at the very bottom which meant I was initially doing the physical, hard labour work.

  The men had smirked and jeered at me, careful not to go too far or upset me, but they had made me very aware they were irritated by my presence.

  I'd felt their annoyance coming off them in waves as they thought they'd have to carry my workload too.

  Luckily I was fit, and, although I couldn't match the men in strength, I did enough that I wasn't a hindrance.

  My father didn't make it easy for me and, looking back, I'm grateful to him for that.

  I now understood and respected each aspect of the industry. I had a team behind me that valued me and had total faith and respect in me.

  It had helped shape me back into the person I had been. My confidence and self esteem had been shattered and this had helped me to rebuild myself.

  Arriving back home, I'd been a wreck, a shell of my former self. Instead of going home, I'd gone straight to my best friend Maddie.

  Her horrified expression had convinced me of my decision not to head to my parents.

  She'd welcomed me in and allowed me to sob in her arms, gently shushing me and smoothing my hair as I fell apa
rt.

  Once I'd quietened down she asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I'd kept my eyes downward and simply shaken my head.

  Thankfully she'd accepted this and tucked me into bed, climbing in next to me without any hesitation or confirmation from me and holding me tight.

  She'd tried relentlessly to talk to me about it over the next few days and had clearly been beside herself with worry and concern.

  She’d assumed correctly that a guy had hit me, and I’d been content to leave the rest of the horror story out of it.

  She’d pleaded with me to go to the police and report whoever it was, promising me her support and begging me to let her contact my parents.

  It had hurt me to see her so upset, but I’d just felt numb and empty, void of caring.

  Looking back, I can't imagine how she must have felt at my flat-out refusal to do anything other than lie in her bed and listen to the same songs on repeat.

  I gave myself a week to mourn the life that I thought I’d live, the innocence that I’d lost and the belief in people that had been destroyed.

  After a week I forced myself to get up and take a shower. I got dressed and met Maddie at the breakfast bar.

  She looked at me, stunned.

  I ate for the first time in days and told myself that I needed to focus on something. I needed to try and gain some semblance of control and direction in my life.

  I spent a few more days hiding out at her house, glad that she lived on her own, as I recuperated.

  My face healed and my shattered spirit was slowly rebuilt. I lay in her bed, listening to music and trying to gain the mental strength to face my parents and my life again.

  Finally I went home and told my father that I wanted to work in his company. I fought both my parents’ objections and after a month or so of arguments and disagreements, I went to work.

  Working with a primarily male workforce was difficult. The men had enough respect for my father, and probably a healthy dose of fear of him, so they never made any advances towards me.

  However, in my fragile state it was a constant battle. Panic attacks plagued me, and I'd often go home and cry myself to sleep.

  Ever so slowly my confidence increased. My position as the boss's daughter meant the men were relatively non-threatening, always careful to be polite and friendly but not to overstep any boundaries.

  A few months later, during one of my parents’ regular family dinners, my father had been discussing different charities and events that they were able to support. I’d asked him to consider one which promoted the empowerment of women and which was working with a women’s refuge to tackle domestic violence.

  He’d agreed as long as I attended the event with him. There I’d seen Krav Maga being demonstrated and had been hooked. I’d immediately sought the instructor out and asked him to train me.

  I was ready to take control of my life and determined that nobody would ever hurt me like that again.

  I worked hard and went for promotions just like everyone else. Irrespective of being my father’s daughter, I earned my place in the company.

  Lena

  The meeting with Luca in our Italian office went well - not that I'd anticipated any problems, but, as it was one of the sites that had recently expanded, I wanted to keep in close contact with the local management team.

  Luca was doing a great job. Despite the increased outgoings associated with expansion, the profits hadn’t taken too much of a hit, and I was reassured that Luca had everything under control.

  He hadn't mentioned any misgivings or concerns during our regular conference calls, but I liked to touch base regularly.

  It helped that my elder sister lived not far away in Sorrento with her family, so I'd planned on tagging on a visit.

  Luca and I chatted amicably for a while, and I caught up on the gossip and heard all about his family and plans for the summer. Before thanking him for his time and saying my goodbyes.

  Jumping into my hire car, I activated the Bluetooth and dialed my sister’s number. The phone rang a few times before a quiet little voice answered the call.

  "Pronto."

  I could hear my sister muttering away in the background before taking the phone from my niece.

  Before she could speak, I jumped in "Hey Bee! It's me. I've just finished the meeting with Luca. Am I OK to come straight over?"

  She didn't answer me but let loose a burst of Italian at my niece and nephew, and I heard a door closing.

  She spoke into the phone sounding distracted, "Lena, yes, yeh, of course. How long will it take you to get here?"

  "Well, I'm just about on my way. I'd say about an hour maybe?"

  "Mmm..." She paused for a minute before adding, "try and drag it out, give it about 90 minutes or so. Drive slowly! I don't want the bambinos to see you right before bed. We'll never get them to sleep. They can see you tomorrow."

  I smiled and agreed with her that I'd take my time.

  The minute I hung up the phone I pressed my foot down on the accelerator, pushing the speed up, racing towards their home, hoping to catch my niece and nephew before bed.

  Around 50 minutes later I pulled into their driveway. My tyres crunching over the gravel, I noticed most of the lights were still on. Grinning I leapt out of the car and practically ran to the front door.

  I rang the bell and stood back, crouching down, and holding my arms wide open. I waited impatiently for the door to open.

  My sister’s house was a complete contradiction of styles, built to look like a cottage with beautiful stonework and an arched entrance.

  It was completely modern inside; lots of glass and neutral colours could have made it seem cold, but, peppered with family photos, bright artwork, courtesy of her two children, and huge rugs all gave it a warm and cosy family feel.

  The decor and interior should have been at odds with the house, but, as was usual with my sister, something that shouldn't have worked did so effortlessly.

  The door swung open, and excited shrieks of "Auntie Lena!" filled the air as my niece and nephew catapulted themselves into my arms, almost knocking me over.

  I squeezed them both to me tightly and caught sight of my sister standing in the doorway shaking her head at me in mild annoyance.

  "I guess traffic must have been light..." she muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes before calling the children to get off me and to let me into the house.

  The next hour was spent listening to my niece and nephew jabbering incessantly, both vying for my attention. I sat them either side of me on the sofa and took turns listening to their stories and updates, exclaiming at their dramas.

  Nico was the oldest. At five years old he was turning into a striking little boy. With dark hair and tanned skin he looked typically Italian, despite being half British.

  His eyes forever danced with mischief and he had a smile that lit up his face. He excitedly told me all about his school friends and his recent selection to the football team. I was delighted for him and scooped him into my arms, smothering his face in kisses as he fought me off, laughing.

  "I'm not in the football team though cos I'm a little girl", my niece complained sullenly next to me.

  Her sulky tone made me laugh. At only three years old she adored her older brother and wanted to do everything that he did.

  She was a beautiful little girl, with long dark hair, which she often wore braided, and delicate features and startling green eyes.

  I leaned over to her and whispered in her ear, and she immediately let out a loud shriek, all thoughts of pouting forgotten.

  Nico bounced next to me. "What is it?! What did you say, Auntie Lena? Tell me, tell me!" he demanded.

  Turning to face him, I repeated, "I asked her if coming to Leonelli's beach with me tomorrow would..."

  Before I could even finish the sentence, Nico shouted out loud again, and for the second time they both threw themselves into my arms.

  They were so excited, shouting and whooping before jumping up and run
ning about screaming.

  It was at that moment my sister decided to walk back into the room to check out the commotion. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows, "You know we're doomed right?"

  She gestured to the two of them racing about and shook her head in irritation.

  I put my hands up in an ‘I've got this' motion and said loudly, "Nico, Florence, c'mon you two. Let's go up to bed so that we're wide awake tomorrow for lots of fun."

  I could see they were about to grumble, so I quickly added, "I'll come up and put you to bed myself.”

  That sealed it. They both ran into the kitchen, shouting goodnight to their mother and giving kisses before bounding up the stairs.

  Despite their excitement they both fell asleep fairly quickly, and I headed back downstairs to join my sister in the kitchen.

  She poured us both a glass of wine.

  "You're not too annoyed with me, Bee?" I teased her, and she pulled a stern face.

  "You must have floored that poor car to get here in that time," she admonished me, but I could see that she was trying hard not to grin.

  "Hey, I don't get to see them half as much as I'd like..." I took another sip of my wine.

  "Besides…" I paused and winked at her, "I did tuck them up in bed for you."

  She laughed and pointed her finger at me.

  "You just get the good stuff mind. When they're driving you crazy with their tantrums, you can run away. Being the fun aunt is great ... speaking of which... "

  My sister, the master of manipulating conversations, raised an eyebrow at me, "What are the chances of me becoming a fun auntie before I'm old and grey?"

  I laughed at her and took another slug of wine.

  "Somewhere between zero and nil," I replied, just before the door swung open and my brother in law walked in.

  "Thank goodness, Alessandro!” I exclaimed dramatically, “save me from the inquisition!"

  I loved my sister, but since her own wedding and children she seemed to have made it her mission in life to get me paired off and pregnant, neither of which was even mildly appealing.