What happened to the sunny, funny man I met with Ryan all those years ago? What did I do to deserve the cold shoulder? Other than offer him the opportunity to come here with me?
What changed?
Slamming the heavy oak door shut with a clunk, I pivot on my toes and march upstairs to the middle floor. If the thunderous banging is anything to go by, that’s where my new housemate is.
His beguiling aftershave lingers in his wake, a concoction of sage and bergamot blended with a unique, natural masculinity. It seeps into my skin and crawls straight into my veins.
In the open plan living area, my eyes rake over the obscenely attractive man currently tearing apart my house. He’s ransacking every cupboard and every drawer of my magazine-worthy country kitchen.
I agonized over the décor in here for months, finally settling on grey hand-painted units complimented by an ivory granite worktop. The chrome circular knobs, which complete the style, are currently being wrenched open by the other knob in my house.
Who does he think he is?
Archie may be panty-meltingly gorgeous, but it seems his attitude still leaves a lot to be desired.
‘What are you doing?’ I stalk across the varnished wooden floor to hover next to him, trying not to look like I’m inhaling the deliciously scented air encircling his vicinity.
How will I survive gulping down that impossibly alluring scent every day without throwing myself on him and straddling him like a wild horse?
He’s the walking, talking definition of the word masculine. In fact, if I were to google the word right now, I’m pretty sure a picture of my new bodyguard would pop up.
‘Familiarising myself with the place. Checking for bugs.’
A nervous stream of laughter rattles from my chest, echoing through the air between us. ‘Bugs? You mean like the creepy cockroach kind?’
‘Funny, aren’t you?’ Sharp bright eyes land on mine, stoking a longing in my chest so acute it burns. Confidence smoulders from every inch of him. Even snarky Archie makes my ovaries want to spontaneously combust.
It’s probably a good thing he lost his sense of humour years ago because that might have tipped me over the edge completely. From the way he’s practically ignored me these past few years, clearly the attraction’s not reciprocated, even a fraction.
‘Who on earth would bug my house?’ I cross my arms, never more aware of the fact I’m not wearing a bra.
His sculpted body stiffens, in all the wrong places, I might add. Oh God, I really need to get laid. It’s been too long.
‘I don’t know. Perhaps someone who might be looking for inside information on your family? Maybe a classmate looking to make a few quid on the side selling gossip to the tabloids? We never did find out how the media got wind of Chloe’s second pregnancy. It could have been leaked from here. I assume you speak to Chloe on the phone?’
‘Of course I talk to Chloe! She’s my sister, for fuck’s sake.’ I don’t like the implication I’m somehow responsible for sharing my family’s secrets. Indignation surges within me. ‘Or it could have leaked from one of the hundred members of staff Sasha and Ryan employ. It seems any old riff raff can penetrate the castle these days.’
Penetrate?
Talk about giving myself a visual.
I need a cold shower.
Archie backs against the granite, resting his pert backside against it as he holds his hands up. ‘Look, it’s not an accusation. I’m simply checking everywhere because let’s be honest, Jared wasn’t exactly the most vigilant of bodyguards, was he? How are you, by the way? After last night?’ Concern blooms in his tone. Appraising eyes intensely rake over my body, assessing for damage.
‘I’m fine. Just like I told Sasha. It was just a coincidence I happened to be there. The police said the guy who got shot was a drug dealer who’d pissed off the wrong people dealing on their turf. It had nothing to do with me personally, or this family.’ I moisten my lips which feel like they’re drying out with every passing second.
Archie’s eyebrows furrow into a crease. ‘It became everything to do with this family when your picture was splattered across every social media site known to man. What if the shooter thinks you saw too much and comes back?’ That deep rough British accent. That voice. It exudes experience. Confidence. A worldliness I can only imagine from my pristine Edinburgh prison.
I fling my hands in the air with despair. ‘I didn’t see anything! Like I told Sasha, I was having a drink with my friends on a Saturday night, letting off some steam after a long day at the hospital. That’s all.’
‘But dotheyknow that, though? Your picture and your name are all over the internet. It wouldn’t take a lot to find you if someone thought you were a threat.’ It’s the longest conversation we’ve had in years, and I physically squirm under the intensity of his attention.
‘That’s ridiculous. I’m a student doctor. Trying to save lives is my job.’
‘Don’t be so quick to write off a potential threat. We’ll keep our wits about us, for the next few days especially.’ His head cocks to the side. ‘Who else has a key to this place?’
‘Just my cleaner, Miriam. She comes twice a week, usually when I’m at the hospital.’
