“Well, I won’t keep you,”John said, straightening his tie. The urge to grin in triumph mademylips twitch, butI wasn’tplanning on giving him the satisfaction. “Tell your dad we’ll continue thisdiscussion another time.”
“Sure,” I said, withabsolutely no intention of following through. “Have a great day, John.”
“You too, sport,” he said,brushing past me and heading for the elevator as my nose wrinkled at thenickname. Was there anyone on the entire planet who liked being calledsport?
Once John was well and trulygone, I pushed the door to my dad’s office open, stepping through into a space thatwas almost like a second home.
From the beautiful built-inbookcase that took up one entire wall to the couch I’d napped on after schoolfor years, everything in here screamed comfort to me. More than my own familyhome did.
Nothing bad ever happened inthis office. Not to me, anyway.
Dad looked up, stillfrowning at first, but then offering me a warm, genuine smile as he realizedthat I wasn’tJohn back for another round. IfIwas tired of John, my dadhad to be exhausted with him.
Why couldn’t he just sitback, do his simple, cushy job, and enjoy the dividends he got paid for thegenerous share he had remaining? It couldn’t have been that bad a life, Ithought.
Not that I would have tradedfor my own. I loved my job, really. It was in this room that I’d realized I hadto grow up to help people, reading my dad’s books on the history of disease andtreatment, and the newspaper clippings he had a whole collection of—reports ontimes we’d saved someone. Someone who, before we’d done the research, wouldhave died.
I was proud of that. I wasproud of this company, and what it was doing.
“Did you make a hire?” Dadasked, sitting back in his tall, leather chair. I’d always thought it lookedlike a throne, but if itdid, then my father was a good king.
The tips of my ears burnedat the question.
Dad had asked me to hire abodyguard after my car and office had been broken into on Monday and Tuesday, respectively.It was only Thursday morning, and I was already having the worst week of mylife so far.
So naturally, I’d hired the onlybodyguard I’d ever met.
The fact that I’d hooked up withhim on Saturday night was either fate, or made this a terrible idea. Possiblyboth.
But it was too late now. I’d made thedecision, and while I thought my dad was being a little… over-protective, I’dbeen rattled, too. Maybe it’d make me feel better.
Besides, Gray washot.Despite my better judgement, I wanted to see him again. Even though it was mypersonal policy not to hook up with the same guy twice.
This wasn’t a hookup. Itwas a job.
“He’s coming in later thismorning,” I said. “Did you want me to bring him up here?”
Dad shook his head. “He’s notbodyguardingme. As long as you’re happy, I don’t care.”
Dad said that a lot.
“He comes with excellentreferences,” I continued. “Seems professional. Plus he was available rightaway.”
As Amanda told it, heactually sounded a little desperate. Which was fine. If he needed the job, he’d be moreinclined to be flexible, and I got the feeling I’d need that.
I had no idea what todowith a bodyguard. No one I knew had dealt with one before. The Emersons hadmoney, but not chased-by-the-paparazzi money. We didn’tneedbodyguards,normally.
Except now there wassomething weird going on in my life. I wanted it to be a coincidence, but itdidn’tfeellike one. Notwhen it’dhave to mean that two separate thieves had cared about the same files—and not,for example, my car stereo or my laptop.
“You don’t need to justifyyour choices to me,” Dad said. “I’m just signing the paychecks. As long as hekeeps you safe, I’ll consider him worth the money. If he doesn’t, he’ll reallywish he had. Or uh. She? Did you say he?”
“I said he,” I confirmed,smiling at the way my dad’s brows had knitted together. It was a naturalassumption to make, but I was proud of him for catching himself on it.
He’d gotten good about thatkind of thing since I’d come out to him. It’d been over a decade now, but hewas stilltrying. Trying to bebetter. I admired that.
“Okay, good,” he nodded. “Areyou holding up okay?”
“I’m fine,” I respondedautomatically, and then paused to consider that response. Was I fine?
