“This wasn’t a break-in,” Kenta counters. “It was a home invasion. Had Miss Saint woken up whilst the fan was in the room, the likelihood of a violent altercation would have been incredibly high.”
Matt speaks up suddenly. “What did the police say?”
“Not much. They didn’t dust for prints, because he was wearing gloves on the CCTV footage.”
He nods. “Not surprising, if he thought forward enough to mask up. Nothing useful on the video?”
I shake my head. “You can look at it if you want. All they could tell was he looked about five-ten, medium build. They also took a DNA sample from my sheets, but apparently they didn’t find a match.”
Matt raises an eyebrow. “Your sheets? What did he do, spit on them?”
I set my jaw. “He… ejaculated on them.”
Kenta’s eyes widen. “Wait.Whileyou were in the bed?”
“Yes,” I say stiffly.
All three men share a dark look. I notice Glen’s hand twitch slightly on the table, like he wants to clench his fist. Matt visibly flinches.
“I see.” Kenta’s warm voice is suddenly icy. He looks back down at the photograph. “I see.”
“Again, it’s pretty common,” Julie chips in. “You know, I heard just last week, some creep broke into Tye Kavanagh’s hotel room—you know, the rock singer? The guy masturbated in Tye’s guitar case. All Kavanagh did was call security to escort him out, he didn’thire three ex-SAS soldiersto tail him around—”
“Could you please leave?” Kenta asks suddenly. “We’d like to speak with the client alone.”
She scoffs. “If we’re paying for your services, surely we are the clien—”
Matt glances up from the Polaroid. “Out,” he orders.
I wonder if he was some kind of commander in the army. I think Julie’s halfway out the door before she even realises what’s happening. The door clicks softly shut behind her.
“You need 24-7 protection,” Matt says. “Your current system is completely unacceptable.”
My mouth drops open. “24-7?Are you serious?”
“Someone has broken into your house, violated you, and threatened further assault. You need 24-7 protection. That means at least one of us staying in your house with you, at all times.” He ticks off a finger. “You need updates to your home security system. More CCTV. Motion-detecting floodlights. A more advanced alarm system. Reinforced windows.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not looking for 24-7 bodyguards. Just someone to fix up my security system and protect me when I’m out in public.”
“I don’t care what you’relookingfor,” Matt bites out. “I’m telling you what youneed. If we take on a job, we do it properly. We’re not half-assing it and putting a client in danger, just because she doesn’t want the hassle of having us around.”
“I’m sorry,” Kenta says, softly. “But this really is necessary for your safety.” He taps the Polaroid. “He mentions that he’ll try to meet with you again‘soon’, and frankly, I don’t like the wording ‘we’ll be sleeping next to each other forever’. It sounds like a kidnapping threat. Potentially murder-suicide.”
My heart freezes in my chest.
“You said you wanted someone to take you seriously,” Matt says brusquely. “We’re taking you seriously. Stop complaining.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” I snap, rubbing my temples. I’m scared and tired, and he’s already doing my head in. “They don’t teach you manners in the military?”
He snorts. “Like you know anything about manners. I’ve seen you in the tabloids, princess. And I’ve heard first-hand the shitty way you talk to your staff. What was it?” He pretends to think.“Screw this up, and you’re fucking fired?Was that what you said to your PR woman before you came in here?”
My mouth falls open. He leans in. “If we do take this job, I want to make some things clear.” He raises a finger. “We are not servants. We are not butlers. You might be paying us, but you will have to followourorders. No tantrums. No arguing. No stamping your little kitten heel in the middle of the mall, because we tell you that you have to go home. We need you to trust us completely with your safety.”
“I see,” I drawl. “And this is how you inspire trust? By insulting me? Because right now, I wouldn’t trust you to hold my handbag, let alone save my life.”
He opens his mouth to answer—and then an odd expression flickers over his face. He stiffens, his free hand gripping the table. I watch as his jaw clenches so hard his teeth click. For a few very long seconds, he sits there in silence, completely unmoving, every muscle in his body tensed.
I blink, confused. “Are you okay?”
