The other side of the phone goes silent for almost sixty seconds. Perhaps he’s researching online. If he does, he’ll find Bert decked out in pantaloons, tights, and a codpiece.
It’s been quiet so long, I think he’s hung up but then, his low, sexy accent comes back on the line. “I will be adequately attired. G’day, Ms. Bradford-Clarke.”
“Callie.”
“Callie, it is. Until later.”
Unsettled, my mind wanders. Will his face match his accent? Is he old, young? Blond, dark? He’d have to be strong, how else could he be a bodyguard?
Because I can’t stop imagining him, grading takes much longer than it should and when I check the time. I’ve missed both lunch and dinner.
With a deep breath, I exit the building, ready for a glass of wine and a meal at my favorite haunt.
You got to be kidding me.
My mother’s Rolls Royce stops me in my tracks. Across the street, Johnathan, jumps out from behind the wheel, catches my eye, and opens the back door. Inside, I picture the devil incarnate. She’ll be sitting primly, eyes glued ahead, hands folded in her lap
While I wait for the light to turn, I consider possible excuses. Migraine? Stomach ache? Maybe, I should jump in front of that bike courier.
Crap. Too tired to think, I cross the street, go on my toes, and whisper into the chauffeur’s ear. “How is she today?”
I almost can’t catch his quiet response. “A four miss, maybe even a three.”
My heart sinks. Hungry and cross, I’m not up for one of my mother’s moods.
When I scoot in next to her, she glances up from The Globe. Without a word, she folds the newspaper into small rectangles and slides it into a protective sheet of plastic. Then, she checks for print stains. Once convinced her white angora sweater and matching wool pants are pristine, the queen acknowledges my presence.
Her sour expression gets even more so at my choice of black leggings, knee-high boots, and plain wool maxicoat.
Before she can begin a long, drawn-out lecture, I glance at my phone, and pretend to read a schedule. “I’m sorry you drove all the way here but you should’ve called. I have a makeup class to give in a few minutes.”
I don’t feel the least bit guilty as I tap Johnathan on the shoulder. “Can you drop me off at the physics building?”
“Certainly, Miss Calliope.”
My mother glares and her mouth purses, no doubt adding this to my long list of failings. When she sighs, I wonder how lips can show so much disapproval with all that Botox. “Can I take you to dinner after?”
“Sorry Mom, I have more papers to grade.” Yeah, it’s another lie. Hopefully, God will understand. He has to know I’d rather be beheaded by a dull sword than endure several hours of her harping. At least that would be less painful.
“Did you get a call from Grayson?”My mother is on a first name basis with the billionaire? Figures.
Outside, Boston traffic slows and I curse under my breath. “Yes, or rather his employee, Sir James called me. He sounded British, nice enough.”
Get real, Callie. He sounded sexy and dangerous, not at all nice.
My mother nods all-knowingly. “I insisted on his best. Sir James is former MI-6. Knighted for valor, you know.”
I almost ask how a knight happened to choose a bodyguard career but it’s best to let it go. If she’s happy, I’m happy.
“Thursday, I have a massage, hair dresser, and makeup scheduled. You will get the earrings and arrive, on time with this Sir James.”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t possibly spend the whole day preening. You know I’m working on my thesis.”
“Ah yes, your little microwaves project.” Her perfectly sculptured brows would raise but recent injections make it impossible.
“EMF waves.”
Dear God, you parted the Red Sea, certainly Boston traffic is no big deal.I guess The Almighty is busy because the Rolls stops and my mother sniffs down her nose. “Your studies can wait for a day. I’ll call the dean if–”
