Unknown
The big whip-off
CHAPTER ONE
Denise Albertson was angry as hell when she left the house of her good friend Stacy Miller. Not that she was in the least bit upset at her school chum. Just the opposite was true. She rarely felt better, or more free, then when she spent time with the girl.
What upset her was the man sitting in the plain car parked out at the front curb. She had known the driver of the car for two years longer then she had know Stacy. And she hated that as well! It was a situation made worse because she knew it wouldn't be changing in the near future. It was only part of the price she paid for being born into an incredibly rich family. One headed by a tyrannical father who demanded twenty-four hour security for the entire family, seven days a week. Not that Dad gave a damn about anything she did. Her watch dog wasn't there to keep Denise sweet and chaste. No notice was ever paid to any report made back to Charles Albertson about any sexual romps or wild parties she attended. Nothing was ever said to her, and probably wouldn't. Unless she suddenly wanted to find out what life as a mass murder was like.
But then, that was the reason she was so closely watched. To make sure Denise never got into a position that could even accidentally soil the family name, or drag it through the mud of unwanted press.
Long before things got to that point where photographers could get anything which could be potentiality damaging, no matter what her condition was, Denise would be swooped away and returned to the safety of the family estate.
She was also watched to make sure no one tried to use her against her father. The value of the family name and fortune was of greater importance to Charles Albertson then Denise or her happiness.
She hated it. Always had, but Denise was used to it. Putting up with this dreadful treatment only because she had no choice in matter. It was all part of the reason why she enjoyed being around Stacy. Compared to her own, the girl's life was so "normal", so ordinary. All the things Denise would never know about until her father finally died.
Denise did her best not to think about the man sitting in the front seat of the plain blue sedan. At least she didn't have to ride with him, she thought. She had her own car and could come and go as she chose.
Only there would always be someone right behind her. Men like Alex, there waiting patently in the blue car, working in shifts so that the heiress to one of America's biggest empires couldn't make an unattended move. Or have one made against her.
Sure, she'd tried to show the men up or get away from their watchful eyes. Once Denise had even seduced one of her watchers. She couldn't remember now who it had been, possibly it was Alex. She had hoped to get one of them on her side. To turn him with her womanly charms so he'd forget to look after her once in awhile. It didn't work.
Her father did find it amusing though. Giving her points for using the skills and opportunities available to her to get what she wanted out of life. Dad's kind words somehow didn't make her feel any better.