Prologue

17 July, 10.5 years ago

My heart was racing and I could hear thrumming in my ear. My legs were tied to something or other and hands were in knots behind my back. I knew what was happening but couldn’t believe it.

“Father!” I screamed. “Please help!” I cried.

A tall, masked man rushed over to me and tied a bandana around my mouth. He untied my feet and dragged me into the back of a black van, slamming the door shut inches away from my face. I soon fell asleep as the rocking of the car began to combine with the pain in the back of my head from being hit.

19 July, 10.5 years ago

“Mr Bernard, do not let her out of your sight.” Father said to the henchman he had recruited to chauffeur him around. He paced his office and had a mixture of all the emotions on a mood chart displayed on his face.

“No. I’m not having a hundred-year-old paedo follow me around!” I protested.

“He’s not a paedophile and he’s barely a day over 50. Right?” Father said, turning to Mr Bernard for a response.

“Yes, Mr Baker. I’m 49.” Mr Bernard said.

“Mother!” I shouted through Father’s office door. Soon enough, she came in. I knew she was standing right outside.

“Catherine.” Father went over to kiss her on the cheek. “Please explain to your darling daughter that she cannot go around calling people paedophiles. It can ruin their livelihoods.”

“Felicity? What’s going on?” Mother asked, sitting opposite me and resting her palms on my thighs.

“I don’t want to be followed around by old men. Everyone is going to make fun of me in school.” My voice mellowed. There wasn’t point in shouting at Mother. It wasn’t as though she was the one arranging this around the clock stalker for me. No, that would be my father’s doing.

“Vincent, she’s right. It’s not fair on her to have to deal with this.” Mother said. “Isn’t there someone closer to her age?”

“Yes, like a 14- or 15-year-old who comes to my school and I don’t mind hanging around with her… or him.” I added.

“Spy kids aren’t a real thing, my dear.” Father mocked.

“Vincent.” Mother checked his tone.

“Right. I’ll see what I can do. Mr Bernard? A young-an?” Father said, turning his attention to his henchman.

“I’ll get right to it, Mr Baker.” Mr Bernard said.

“You’re not going back to school for the rest of this term and Mr Bernard follows you around for the entire summer until we can find a more… suitable, um, match.” Father said.

“I’m being grounded for being kidnapped?” I protested.

“No, you’re being protected, escorted and chauffeured, from this point forward.” Father said.

“Argh! Fine! I’m not agreeing to this. I’m not accepting this. I’m protesting.” I stormed out of Father’s office and ran through the halls of Baker Manor all the way to the theatre on the third floor. Mr Bernard followed me and stood at the door while I watched a movie in silent disapproval.

1 August, 10.5 years ago

“Felicity, thank you for cooperating.” Father said.

All these chats either happened at his office or in the dining hall. This morning, while I was meant to be enjoying breakfast, Father detonated the biggest bomb in my face. I wasn’t cooperating as he so put it. I was going to show this newbie what I was made of. After all, Felicity Baker wasn’t one to be rivalled with.

“Mr Bernard, you’re back on the stand. Mr Walker-Campbell, you’ll be in charge of my daughter’s security form this point forward.” Father sifted through the file in front of him. A change from his morning newspaper articles.

I’d seen this Mr Hot-Lamppost Walker-Campbell guy once before. He came to see Father about a week ago. Maybe that was an interview? I should have done something or other to deter him from even considering this job. He was tall, lanky, but looked like he’d recently started building muscle or was on steroids or the like. He reminded me of Steve Rogers before he was Captain America, but Mr Hot-Lamppost was just a little bit less skinny. He was at least two feet taller than me, or something like that. His emerald green eyes made me instantly fall for him. Hmm! He definitely looked better than Mr Bernard. I wondered how old he was. Could I date him? Would Father let me? Maybe then it wouldn’t be so bad. He could be my boyfriend and no one at school would tease me.

“Mr Walker-Campbell, you’re 18, right?” Father asked.

“19, Mr Baker.” Mr Hot-Lamppost said with a low tone. Even his voice was hot! 

“Right.” Father looked through his papers and then looked up at Mr Hot-Lamppost. “Happy birthday, Mr Walker-Campbell.” Father continued speaking after Hot-Lamppost nodded. This time he was facing and directing his words to me. “He’s going to join you at school.”

I laughed. Was that a joke? A hot older boy following me around in my very posh school? “Hasn’t he done his GCSEs then?”

“Mr Walker-Campbell has actually just completed his undergraduate degree and passed with distinction.” Father placed the file he had been studying in front of me. My mouth dropped in awe. How was that even mathematically possible? Father continued. “Everything you need to know about him is in here. He is not your next challenge and you will not terrorise him.”I excused myself and Mr Hot-Lamppost followed me. He didn’t say much and neither did I. He kept his distance but stayed on my tail. I took a walk in the gardens and Mr Walker-Campbell stalked behind me as if he were ready to pounce at anything that came towards me. Everywhere I went for the next month, Walker-Campbell became my stalker. He was so robotic and military, but that added to his appeal. 14 or not, I was head over heels attracted to Hot-Lamppost. Father was wrong. I was going to make him my next challenge and I would terrorise him until he only had two choices left. To quit, or to become my boyfriend and lose his job. I would get rid of this stalker, one way or another, if it was the last thing I did.