Ozzie rolled his eyes dramatically and turned back to me as I approached the car with a hell of a lot more caution than my seven-year-old friend. “Dave thinks he’ssofunny,” he complained.
“I’m bloody hilarious,” Dave said and then reached out his hand to me. “You must be the famous Miss Clara?”
“Yes, I, um…” I trailed off, not quite sure what to say or who this man was. I did manage to lift my hand though for a brief handshake.
“This one keeping you busy?” Dave put in as he pulled open the door to the backseat for Ozzie and me to climb in. I couldn’t actually remember the last time anyone had opened a car door for me. He shut the door after us and slid into the driver’s seat.
“I’m Miss Clara’s star pupil,” said Ozzie proudly, some of his father’s arrogance leaking into his tone. To be honest, this was pretty true. Ozzie was coming on in leaps and bounds now. His natural intelligence was finally shining through the mist of the dyslexia.
“Is that so?” Dave asked, catching my eye in the rearview mirror and giving me a warm look. I cleared my throat.
“Of course you’re a star, Oz,” I said, and Dave smiled. “Mr…um…”
“I’m Mr Parker, but you can call me Dave, love.”
“Dave. I’m sorry. Lord Sterling didn’t give me thespecifics and I didn’t quite catch who you are in relation to Ozzie?”
“Dave drives me places, Miss Clara,” Ozzie told me, as if a seven-year-old having his own chauffeur was completely normal and to be expected. “He’s also a soldier.” The last was said in a breathy, seriously impressed tone.
“Oh really?” I said, feeling a little confused.
“I’m not a soldier now, little lord,” Dave corrected.
“I know that,” said Ozzie. “But you could be if you wanted to be. Daddy said that you could protect me from anything.”
Dave chuckled. “I can be pretty handy when it comes down to it,” he said. “But remember the first rule, little lord?”
“Ugh, you’re so boring,” grumped Ozzie. “Dave teaches me to fight, but he says the first rule is to run away.”
“That’s right,” Dave said firmly. “It’s always better to get away from an unsafe situation, ex-soldier or no.”
“Um, are there many circumstances when you might need to er… run away?” I asked.
Dave caught my eye in the rearview mirror again. My expression must have been more than a little apprehensive.
“Nothing to worry about, Miss Clara,” he told me. “I’m a close protection officer, but it’s overkill, really. There are no active threats against the Sterling family. It’s just a precaution.”
“Oh, right,” I said weakly, settling back into the soft leather of the car. “That’s good to know.”
Ozzie tapped on the glass of the tinted window and grinned at me again.
“And this glass isbulletproof,” he said with that breathless excitement. “Isn’t that cool? And we’ve got jets on the back of the car just like Batman if we need to get away fromsomeone, and we can shoot them with missiles from our wheels if we need to take them out. Right, Davo?”
Dave chuckled from the front of the car. “Well, the glass bit is true enough, Oz. But don’t let any of this freak you out, Miss Clara,” Dave put in quickly. “As I said, no active risk, okay?”
Dave must have misinterpreted my shocked expression for concern when the opposite was true. There may not have been an active risk against the Sterling family, but there certainly was an active risk againstme. As I settled back against the leather again, I felt my resting heart rate slow to a level it hadn’t been at for over a month. A feeling of calm and peace settled over me. I was safe in this car. I had an ex-soldier, bullet-proof glass and tinted windows you couldn’t see in through. This was maybe the safest I’d ever been in my entire life.
And that feeling of safety only increased when we got to the Sterlings’ house. It was a huge mansion in Putney. There were electric gates on the outside, an extremely complicated alarm system: it was practically a fortress.
I absolutely loved it.
Chapter 10
Emotional Safety
Clara
The Sterling house was vast,but somehow… cosy. I was surprised. Rafe Sterling didn’t look like the kind of man to choose large, squishy sofas and velvety fabric for his living room. The kitchen was far more what I would consider up his street with its ultra-modern, minimalist vibe, but the subtle sparkle running through the vast acres of granite worktops didn’t quite jibe with what I expected to be Lord Sterling’s taste either. Maybe his ex-wife chose everything?
