Chapter 3
Calliope
My foot’s numb when I pull it out from under me and glance at my cell phone. Damn. This must be the call I’ve been waiting for. I was hoping Patten would forget and I could ask Bert to bring me to mother’s ball. True, he’s getting on in age but he’s such a nice old gent. Not only that, he’s guarded me for years. I don’t see why we have to change just because someone broke into my apartment. The thief can’t be too intelligent or he’d have known my earrings were at the bank.
I rotate my ankle for a bit, slide out from under my professor’s desk, and put some weight onto my leg. Reminiscent of Twin Towers, two piles of physics papers loom in front of me. Even though I’ve been grading for hours, I’m still only a third of the way done.
Great. Now, I need to stop and talk to some muscled meathead. I should’ve held my ground and told my mother, absolutely no bodyguards.
Heaving a deep sigh, I swipe the screen, my phone stops chirping, and I bring it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Miss Bradford-Clarke?”
“Yes. That’s me.”
“This is Sir Lochlan James, your security for tomorrow evening. If you have the time, I’d like to set up a meeting.” His upper-crust British accent catches me off guard, as does the title, and the low, sexy, voice.
What is my mother is up to?
“Sir James. Are you really a knight?”
“Honorary, miss.” He came to the call prepared because an image of a coat of arms along with an official document lands in my incoming messages.
“Is that acceptable, miss?” I think I hear him chuckle but can’t be sure.
Okay, that was embarrassing.“Ah...yes, sorry, absolutely.”
“Peh-fect. Let’s get down to business. I’ve seen the police report and have one question, if you wouldn’t mind. Do you, or have you ever, kept the earrings in your home safe?”
“Funny you should ask. Last time I wore them, I thought a ruby was loose so I had a jeweler check. God forbid I should lose an irreplaceable stone. Can you imagine New England’s wealthiest on hands and knees?”
A shudder wracks through my body but his warm laughter soothes away the image. “A disaster of epic proportions.”
“You have no idea. I hate wearing them. I stand near a mirror the whole night to make sure they’re safe and count off the minutes until they’re back in the bank.
“I bet. Who, besides you, knew you took them to the jeweler?”
“Any number of people, I suppose. The bank employees, my mother, and maybe she told a couple friends. Why?”
“Just checking, luv. Now, when should I pick you up?”
“Tomorrow, around noon. I’ll text you my address.”
“That works. And miss, please don’t tell anyone our schedule, especially your mother.”
“You’re serious?” I laugh, thinking of the fanfare Bert always made of our yearly trip.
“Serious as a heart attack. People have killed for a whole lot less than a hundred million dollars and it’s my job to keep you safe.”
“I’ve been wearing these earrings at this party for over fifteen years and nothing bad has ever happened.”
“You’ve been lucky.”
Best to change the subject. “I assume my mother gave you the costume?”
“Excuse me?”
Oh, this will be fun. “The earrings are sixteenth century. You, as my date, will wear a costume which my mother will provide.”
