Nodding a little too fast, I try to swallow past my dry throat. His forest-colored eyes are fixed on mine, he’s still cradling my face. If he leaned down an inch or two, he could kiss me.
“Boss? We have an issue.”
Hamish is standing just outside in the hall, not quite looking at us as if we might be naked or something.
“Call Natalia to accompany my wife up to her bedroom. She does not leave her for any reason,” Cameron says, releasing me and heading for the door without looking back.
Natalia is already waiting for me. “Mrs. MacTavish?”
Hitching up the skirts of this ridiculous silk dress, I hurry after her.
“What do you know, Natalia?”
I’m standing in a corner of my bedroom that gives me some view of the grounds around the house without standing directly in front of a window, which she instantly stopped.
“The power outage was intentional,” she says, her gun out, held like an extension of her hand. She’s so strong and competent that she looks out of place in the floral delicacy of this room. “No one has breached the grounds, I assure you that you’re safe.” She’s not looking at me as she talks, I get the feeling she may not like me much. I get what she thinks she sees, a spoiled rich girl. Soft. Weak.
“Do you think you could teach me how to shoot?” I blurt.
Now she glances over. “Ma’am, I don’t think-”
“I’ll ask Cameron, of course,” I interrupt, “but… I hate being helpless. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to some self-defense training. Wouldn’t I be less of a liability if I had some skills?”
She’s hesitating, I can see it. “I don’t know if Mr. MacTavish would want you to…”
It hits me. “Oh. He doesn’t trust me, does he?” The carefully blank expression on her face tells me what I need to know. “All right. I’m just going to change out of this dress.”
“Please be quick, ma’am, just in case I have to move you from this location.” Natalia nods politely, back to scanning the grounds below us.
Hastily sliding into some jeans and sneakers, I feel a sickening sense of certainty that this has to do with my father. I’m a little shocked that he came after me, he’s not the type to expend the cost and effort. I’m useless to his plans now, no longer his virginal Bratva princess.
There’s a shatter of glass below us and a huge ‘whoosh!’ as a wall of fire goes up against the house. I can see the flames’ shadows on the wall as Natalia yanks me down the hall. There’s shouting and Cameron’s voice rises above the others, calling out directions.
“Where are we going?” I try to pull my arm away, but she has a death grip on my arm like I’m a toddler who can’t be trusted to follow her. She picks up speed, taking the corner at a run and nearly sling-shotting me into the opposite wall. I see a door that’s wider and taller than the others down the hall and it’s clear it’s a safe room. There’s a heavy ‘thunk!’ as the steel door closes behind us.
A bank of monitors in front of us lights up as the door closes. She’s ignoring me now and moving through the different security camera shots, tracking the action. The flames are distorting two of the camera angles, but I can see Cameron shooting at someone behind the scant shelter of one of the granite pillars in front.
“Whoever it is used the firebomb in back as a distraction to break right through the gates, smart.” I nod absently. Natalia looks at me with well-bred disgust. “This is horrible and I’m praying it’s not my father,” I say, trying to shove down my frustration, “believe me, I hope that whoever is attacking the house meets a very swift end.”
Keeping my mouth shut, I watch the action as the gunfire quickly dies down, as well as the flames, there’s bodies dragged off to the north corner of the back garden and I hope they’re not Cameron’s people. I hope that no one dies because of me.
Finally escorted back to my room, Natalia locks me in. I want to pound on the door and demand to see Cameron, but I hang on to my temper by my fingernails. He’s dealing with the aftermath of an attack on his home. The last person who is owed an update is me, especially if it came from my father.
It’s Miss Kevin who unlocks my door the next morning with breakfast and her usual elegant smile.
“Can you please tell me what happened last night?” I plead.
As always, she won’t sit down with me, but she nods sympathetically. “The bodies don’t point to any known group, but two of them bear the tattoos of an Albanian squad known for being hired out to do the…” her nose wrinkles slightly, “dirty work.”
“Did Cameron lose any men?” She lays out a cloth napkin on my lap with great ceremony and I’m so frustrated by her magnificent, glacial pace that I’m about to twirl it and snap her on the ass with it. “Was he hurt? Was anyone hurt?”
“There were a couple of injuries,” she allowed. “Master MacTavish was not hurt.”
“What about the damage from the fire?” She’s standing there, looking pointedly at my sausages, fried eggs, and tomatoes.
First Natalia and now her? Everyone here thinks I’m a toddler.
With a sigh, I pick up my fork and stab at a morsel of egg.
