Suddenly Royal by Nichole Chase Page B

eyes.
    “ Anything has to be better than what you’re going through.” I reached out and grabbed his hand. He was only fifty-five and yet his hands looked like those of an eighty-year-old. There were bruises from all the IVs, shots, and blood work. This was only his second round of chemotherapy, and yet it had already taken so much out of him.
    “ I’ve had a wonderful life, Sam. You and your mom have given me everything I could need.”
    “ Don’t talk like that,” I snapped at him, angry he seemed to have given up. He smiled and squeezed my hand, not bothered by my anger.
    “ Baby, I’ve always told you that you should travel. Here’s a chance in a lifetime.” Traveling had been Dad’s favorite part of being in the service. He’d told me and Mom countless times about the places he had seen.
    “ This isn’t the same thing. This wouldn’t be a vacation.”
    “ I know. If you decide to go, you need to do it for the right reasons. You need to do it because you’re ready to accept the responsibility.” He laughed. “Though I bet there are some amazing perks as well. It can’t be all bad, can it?”
    I smiled, even though I didn’t feel like it. I remembered the media hounding me as I left the center and how the people I’d known for years had treated me differently.
    Later that night, Dad fell asleep in his chair in front of the television. I went to the kitchen and sorted out his medicine for the night and got him a glass of milk. When I came back into the living room, I stopped and watched him for a minute. He looked so tired and worn out it made my heart ache. He’d barely started the chemo and I hated seeing him so vulnerable. He was my father; he was supposed to be invincible.
    As I worked on setting up his medicine, I caught the glint of something out of the corner of my eye. I turned around to look out the kitchen window and froze. There was a man with a camera standing just on the other side of the glass. The light above the kitchen table must have reflected off the lens, because he wasn’t using a flash. From the way his finger moved over the button on the top of the camera, I knew he was taking pictures.
    Anger surged through my chest as I stalked to the window and turned the blinds down. Taking slow steps so I wouldn’t wake Dad, I walked into the living room to close the blinds. Standing outside was a woman taking pictures of Dad asleep in the recliner.
    “ Get the hell out of here!” I ran to the window and twisted the blinds closed.
    “ What? What’s going on?” Dad tried to sit up in his seat.
    “ It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” I couldn’t disguise the anger in my voice. They had been taking pictures of my father! He was sick. Did they have no morals?
    “ Doesn’t sound like nothing.” He wrestled with the handle on the side of his seat. “Is someone outside?”
    “ I’ve got it, Dad. I’ll tell the security detail.” Grabbing my coat, I yanked the door open and waved at the car idling in the driveway.
    “ Becca!” The sound of a camera drew my attention to the side of my house. The female photographer was snapping pictures. “Get the hell out of here! This is private property.” I dug in my pocket for my cell phone, intent on calling the police.
    “ Stop where you are!” Becca was moving across the lawn in angry strides.
    “ I’m calling the cops, asshole!” The other photographer ran past the house and toward a van at the end of the street.
    The cops said they would send a car out, but they wouldn’t be able to stay at the house all night. I growled in frustration and asked Becca to stay and make sure no one bothered my dad. After she made some calls, another bodyguard showed up to stay. I grilled him, making sure he understood no one was to come on the property at all.
    Dad spent a good amount of time trying to calm me down, but it only made me angrier. No one should be taking pictures of my father. Especially to sell to papers or tabloids. When I