she thought of him, instead of the slightly blasphemous “savior” that came to mind.
Okay, so maybe she’d exaggerated his physical characteristics when she’d described him to the police last night. And he probably couldn’t walk on water, either, although she had a feeling he would try if it was necessary to save someone. He would have done whatever was necessary to save her, even though he didn’t know her. She couldn’t have said how she knew, but she was absolutely certain that from the minute he’d entered the room where she was imprisoned, he wouldn’t have left without her. Even if her abductors had surprised them, he would have done whatever was necessary to effect their escape. And that was such an incredibly glorious, albeit humbling, feeling, knowing there were still heroes in the world willing to risk their lives for others.
But darn it, she needed a name!
Then she remembered what Mei-li had told her last night, that he worked for an organization called RMM. If Dirk’s wife knew that much, she just might know him. It was worth a shot anyway.
On that thought she made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
Hannah, the DeWinters’ housekeeper, was at the stove, but she turned the fire off and bustled over to Alana when she entered the room, enveloping her in an encouraging hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe!”
“Thanks, Hannah.” She stepped back and looked around. “Where is everyone?”
“The twins are still sleeping, and so is their nanny. Mr. DeWinter had an early call on the set. He said to tell you there’s some fan mail to go through in his office...but only if you feel up to it. Mrs. DeWinter also went out early. She said she might be back for lunch, but she’d let me know.”
“Darn it!” Alana said out loud. “I was hoping to catch her before she left.”
Hannah resumed her cooking. Oatmeal, Alana saw, which both she and the DeWinters’ daughters loved. “Was it something urgent? You could always call or text her.”
“Important to me. But not urgent enough to interrupt whatever she’s doing. If she went out this early, she must be working on a case. I’ll see her at lunch or dinner.”
Hannah took down a bowl from one of the cabinets and served Alana from the pot on the stove. “Here you go, Miss Richardson. Put yourself on the outside of this.”
Alana smiled and accepted the bowl. She’d only been living with the DeWinters for a month, but she adored Hannah almost as much as the twins did. Not just for her quaint expressions and her insistence on addressing Alana with old-fashioned formality, but for the heart of gold that was obvious within minutes of meeting her.
She sprinkled a spoonful of brown sugar on her oatmeal and stirred, then seated herself at the kitchen table with a despondent sigh. She’d tried to love her own mother; she really had. But except for the residual attachment left over from her childhood, it wasn’t possible. How could she love a woman whose outlook on life was totally alien to her? Who judged people by their social status...and more?
She couldn’t help wishing her mother was more like Hannah. For that matter, she couldn’t help wishing her father was different, too. Not like Hannah so much, but like her uncle Julian. She’d never envied Juliana anything except the close relationship she had with her father, a father she could be proud of. If only Uncle Julian had been her father, too, instead of—
Don’t go there, she warned herself. No pity parties. That never does any good. Think of all the people in the world who would change places with you, she reminded herself as she ate her porridge, enumerating all the positives in her life. Your parents never abused you. You never went hungry. You always had a roof over your head and decent clothes to wear.
But...those weren’t the only things that mattered when raising a child.
The fact that her parents were the way they were wasn’t something she could change, either, although she’d tried. Repeatedly. But she’d never made a dent in their prejudices. Wasn’t that one of the reasons she’d run across the world to escape? So she could live her life free from the entitled, superior mentality they’d tried to impose on her?
They would never understand that Alana didn’t see the world the way they did, no matter what she said. So all she could do was distance herself from them, even if it meant taking a job they saw as beneath her.
Living with Dirk and Mei-li had been an eye-opener. Watching them together. So loving. So supportive. So accepting of their differences. No, not just accepting, rejoicing in their differences.
Then seeing how Dirk’s daughters looked upon Mei-li as their mother without question, even though both Mei-li and Dirk made sure the twins knew how much their birth mother had loved them and sacrificed for them before they were born.
Alana knew one thing for sure now. The way she’d been raised wasn’t the way she’d raise her own children...if she was fortunate enough to have any.
And just like that her memory winged to last night and the man who’d rescued her. A man who, as Mei-li had put it, did what he had to do to rescue the innocent, without looking for thanks.
She hadn’t really put a lot of thought into it before, because she was only twenty-six and her biological clock hadn’t yet sounded the warning alarm. But she was deeply attached to the children she knew—Juliana’s little boy, Raoul, and Dirk’s daughters, Linden and Laurel. And she’d always known that when she found the right man she wanted children. Children, plural. Two, maybe three. Not the lonely only child she’d been.
No, she hadn’t given it a lot of thought before. But she was thinking of it now. She was definitely thinking of it now...because that was the kind of man she wanted as the father of her children.
And she didn’t even know his name or what he did for a living.
“Dirk was right,” Alana muttered to herself. Her boss’s fan mail—the real kind, not email—went to a PO box address, and the accumulation was delivered bright and early every Monday morning. Dirk had a social media presence she maintained for him, too—website, Twitter, Facebook. He couldn’t possibly have managed it all on his own, which was why Juliana had recommended Dirk to Alana and Alana to Dirk.
And she loved her job. Unlike the glorified but meaningless position she’d had working for her father’s company ever since she graduated from college, she never felt superfluous. She never felt as if no one would miss her if she didn’t show up. Dirk needed her to keep him organized, to keep his fan base happy.
Not that Dirk didn’t take an interest. He did. He set the tone, gave her the parameters to work from to maintain his public persona. He also read the more interesting posts, tweets and emails she filtered for him. And he reviewed anything that went out under his name, of course. But only once had he firmly put his foot down on Alana’s suggested response, one that would have capitalized on a touching photo of Dirk with his family that had just recently been published, a picture that had been taken without his knowledge or consent. After which she’d gotten the message—his wife and children were never to be used.
That didn’t mean photos of the DeWinters didn’t circulate. The paparazzi stalked Dirk relentlessly, and Mei-li was incredibly photogenic. But Dirk tried to minimize public access to his twin daughters, including a state-of-the-art security system surrounding
