Their Home

Their Home
Collins’s POV
Thompson looked dumbfounded at the share transfer contracts on the table in front of them. I took the place at the head of the table, staring back at each of them with the promise of doom if they failed to comply. They knew I had the evidence — bank records, emails, recordings — around their necks. One after another, they signed, their hands shaking. Martin’s jaw tensed, Claire’s lips trembled and Thompson’s shoulders dropped as they gave up their 4%, 3% and 2% stakes respectively. I nodded to Daniel, who gathered the pages.
I looked to my uncle Richard, sitting stiff.  “You,” my voice was low.  “Do not ever set foot in this building again. I know you’re so greedy, Richard.  Cross me and I will crush you. All that you have — your money, your good name, your petty little games — will go up in the flames. Test me, and you’ll see.”
Panic fluttered in Richard's eyes, and his cocky demeanor shattered under the weight of my warning. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his hands clutching the armrests as if to hold himself fast. I didn’t wait for a response. “Get out,” I said, and he stood up, storming out of the room, with the door clicking shut.
I glanced at Grandpa, whose head hung low, his head bowed, his eyes empty and hollow from the searing pain of that betrayal. “Take him home,” I directed Daniel, my tone more gentle but not weak. Two security guards came over, gentle but firm, and helped Grandpa to his feet. For a moment his cane wavered on the floor, his shoulders drooped, and I felt a pang of guilt that heaved in my chest. He’d made me, molded me, but his blind faith in Jenny had left me no choice. I saw him go, saw the aching distance in his eyes and felt a hush cut through me, but I buried it. This was necessary. 
Back in my office, I demanded that the company be purged of Grandpa and the Richard loyalists anything anybody — executives, assistants. Then hiring my own men to take their place, men and women I’d personally recruited, whom I knew were loyal, whom I’d tested for competence. I reorganized key departments, strengthened security protocols and put a lock on sensitive systems. By the time I was finished, the company was a fortress.
The drive back to my apartment was silent, the city lights streaking by, and I allowed the day to settle its weight on me. When I went inside, I felt the warmth. The air was tangy with the scent of vanilla and fresh flowers, the formerly vacant spaces alive with color and livelihood. Amelia was in the living room, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and a short, soft gown hugging her curves as she straightened a framed photo on the wall. Teddies covered the shelves, bright cushions were sprawled over the sofas and a gallery of photographs of us, adorned the walls. It was no longer just a  house, but a home.
I stopped, my breath catching, at how much she looked herself and mine. She spun around, and her eyes danced, and I made my way to her, enveloping her in my arms. “What’s all this?” I whispered, my lips sliding across the side of her temple.
She giggled with excitement. “I went shopping! It was, you know, so… cold in the house before. I got cushions, these cute bears, a few frames — oh, and these candles! Look!” She pulled me to a nearby side table, indicating a cluster of twinkling lights. “It feels like us now, doesn’t it?
I laughed and my heart swelled. “It feels like you.” I put my arms around her and she embraced me, her warmth easing the day’s chill. “You’ve made it perfect.”
She was grinning ear to ear, and then she came at me with a giddy run down of what she bought.“I know! I found curtains and rugs and…” Her hands danced about as she spoke. I opened my pocket and drew out a pair of glossy black cards. I said, handing her the first. “This is for the house. I’ll send more for each month for whatever you need to do to keep it ours.” I handed her the second. “And this is for you. Your allowance. Spend it on whatever makes you feel happy.”
Her eyes shone as she accepted them. “Mr. Collins, you’re spoiling me,” she teased, placing the cards in her pocket before sliding her arms around my neck. “But I’m not complaining.”
I kissed her slow and searching, the world receding until it was only us. “Good,” I murmured. “You deserve it.”
The next morning, we sat around the dining room table, sunlight pouring through the windows as we had breakfast. Amelia was taking a bite, laughing about a teddy she named “Grumpy” after me, when there was a knock at her door.  I nodded to the staff to let our guest in. Elena Voss walked into the room, her back military straight, her dark hair pulled back, her gaze sweeping the space with the alertness of a driver and the edginess of a bodyguard. She was exactly what I had requested for. Discreet, deadly, able to keep Amelia in check without alerting her to the danger.
Amelia’s fork hovered, her brow furrowing as she peered at Elena, then at me. “Who’s this?”
I put down my coffee, my voice slow and steady. “Amelia, this is Elena Voss. She’s your driver and your bodyguard.” I held her gaze, bracing for the pushback I knew was on the way. “She’s here to protect you.”
Amelia’s eyes went wide and her fork fell to the plate. “A bodyguard? I don’t need a bodyguard!”