“For God’s sake,” I snap at her. “I want actual security guards. Not more eye candy for you to drool over!”
“I swear,” she insists. “These guys come really well recommended! The looks are just an added bonus. They’ll looksohot in paparazzi shots.” Her eyes twinkle. “Did I kill it orwhat,babe?”
“No!” I snap. “You didn’t kill it! Get out of my house!”
The man sitting on the far left stands, glaring at me. He’s probably the most classically handsome of the three; bright blue eyes, strong jaw, black hair. He looks like Clark Kent crossed with an Abercrombie model.
And he looks like he wants to murder me. “Alright,” he barks, turning to his teammates. “This is bullshit. Let’s go.”
“But!” Julie starts.
I nod at him. “Please do. I don’t know what kind of job you were expecting, but I’m looking for actual security. MyPR manager,” I toss Julie a black look, “must have made a mistake. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience. We’ll reimburse you for time and petrol.”
He snorts, disgust curling his lip. “I’m sorry, you thinkwe’renot good enough foryou?We’re ex-SAS, princess. Including our time in the force, we’ve each been working security for nineteen, twenty years.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s the actual army, right? You’re not just strippers people hire to come to their hen dos wearing camo?”
Yes, okay. Thatwasbitchy. But this man is looking at me like a piece of dog shit that got stuck to his shoe.And I don’t like being calledprincess.
His scowl deepens, blue eyes smouldering. “Yes,seriously.And we sure as Hell did not go through all that training to be your damneye candy.”
The man sitting next to him rolls his eyes and tugs at his wrist. “Sitdown,”he mutters. “Give her a chance.” He turns to me with a calm smile. “I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot, Miss Saint. We’re from the London-based private protection service, Angel Security. We’re a fully-qualified close protection detail with a lot of experience dealing with high-profile cases like your own.” He holds out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Kenta Li.”
Oh, thank God. A polite person. I sit down opposite him, taking his hand. Kenta is East Asian, with strong shoulders, angular features, and long, dark hair pulled back in a bun. He has a tattoo on his hand, curling up from his wrist, and his dark eyes are cool and friendly. As my fingers close around his, I could swear a spark of electricity jumps between our skin. I pull back like I’ve been burned.
Kenta blinks and clears his throat, slapping Clark Kent on the back. “This is Matthew Carter. You can call him Matt. As you can probably tell, he’s not very good at making new friends.”
Matt’s face flickers with annoyance. Neither of us offers a handshake.
Kenta tips his head to the man on his left. “And this is Glen Smith.”
My eyes skip to Glen. He’s bigger than the other guys: several inches taller, and so broad that he barely fits on the sofa. His thick hair is full of salt-and-pepper streaks, and his grey eyes are so pale they look almost silvery. An impressive scar runs down the side of his face, stretching all the way from his temple, through his eyebrow, and slashing into his cheek. The skin is puckered and raised, like the wound healed badly. As I watch, he tilts his head slightly, like he wants to hide the scar from view.
I reach across the table to shake his hand. He grips my hand gingerly, his huge fingers dwarfing mine. “Nice to meet you,” I tell him, and I could swear I see his face tint pink with a blush. Something warm thrums deep inside me.Ilikethis one.
I lean back, my mouth suddenly dry. “Sorry to keep you all waiting. I was in a meeting.” Clark Kent—Matt—snorts. I turn to him. “Something funny?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “We’ve been in this business for a long time, Miss Saint. We’re trained to observe our surroundings. And we’re notidiots.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “I’m glad to hear that. And?”
He nods at my hands. “Your fingernails are freshly painted. I can smell the nail polish. You weren’t in a meeting, you were getting a manicure.”
I take a long breath through my nose. “I’m collaborating with a major beauty company to create my own line of nail polishes. I was in a product design meeting. Do you have any other non-idioticobservationsthat you’d like to make, or can we get started?”
Four
Briar
?
Matt sits back, his eyes flat and cold, but doesn’t say anything else. I nod. “Right. First of all, I’d like you all to switch off your phones. I don’t want any of you recording this conversation.”
Glen and Kenta both do as I say. Matt snorts. “Princess, if we wanted to do that, we wouldn’t be using ourphones. We have slightly more advanced equipment at our disposal.”
I stare at him. “Just turn off your phone,” I enunciate the words slowly. “And don’t call meprincess.”
“Briar…” Julie starts. “Please. You’re being rude.”
