Finally, Dameon looked at her and said, “I apologize on behalf of these knuckleheads, Ashley.” He tilted his gaze in the others’ direction. “And that you have to put up with Winter from now on.”
Ashley, her cover name. Sydney smiled at Dameon. “Believe me, I’ve seen it all in this line of work.”
Leo leaned forward conspiratorially toward her. “You’ve got to have some stories to share with us, right?” he murmured to her with a wink. “Adventures in guarding folks?”
“Oh,” Sydney replied. “Do I ever.”
Leo laughed. “I’ve never been more excited to be traveling with you all.”
Dameon looked curiously at her. “How oldareyou, anyway? How many assignments could you have had?”
Sydney smiled a little at him. “You’d be surprised.”
Claire raised an eyebrow at them from over her phone. “Ashley came recommended to us by Elite Securities,” she said. “You boys behave yourselves around her. And I mean it.” She glanced at Ashley, her own gaze wary. “I was told she’s one of their best bodyguards. Winter convinced me to bring her on. Now leave her alone. She’s here to make sure you all stay safe.”
Leo whistled a little. “Elite Securities. Best in the business.”
“That’s no joke,” Dameon added, looking impressed. “I heard you all trained in the marines.”
Winter leaned on his knees. “So best be careful with what you reveal around her,” he said. “She catches everything.”
Sydney narrowed her eyes at him. He still hadn’t entirely forgiven her for their training sessions. “I’d say it’s my job to notice you, Mr. Young,” she replied.
Winter smiled innocently at her. “And?”
And you look like the hottest damn person who’s ever existed.The honest answer shot unbidden into her mind.
She loathed that she could feel a slight flush rising on her cheeks—especially since she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her.
So instead, she said coolly, “And you should update your cologne. It’s awful.”
It wasn’t—it made him smell like a dream. But Dameon let out a low whistle and exchanged a knowing look with Leo, then glanced at Winter.
Winter just settled back into his seat and looked away with a scowl.
The rest of the ride passed uneventfully. The wet streets of London blurred by outside the windows, the cacophony of tall red buses and motorbikes, ambulances and crowds mixing into a steady ambience. Sydney’s fingers toyed with the roll of wafers in her pocket as she reviewed their plan in her head.
An hour later, they pulled onto a rain-washed path in Kensington. The car dropped off Leo and Dameon at a complex reserved for them and several other crew. Then it stopped before an elegant, Georgian-style estate, the bare limbs of a wisteria plant climbing across its white stone façade.
Two men in black suits were already waiting for them here. As they stepped out, one of the men came over to hold a hand out at them.
“This way, please,” the guard said.
They followed him through wrought-iron gates to the front entrance, a black rectangle twice as tall as she was. The man pushed the door open, and it revealed what looked like a dream.
No matter how many times Sydney ran missions for Panacea in rich neighborhoods, she would never get used to setting foot in houses as glamorous as this. Sydney had grown up in a two-bedroom shack of a place, the curtains all rotted away, the carpet dotted with black mold from the time their home’s ground floor had flooded during a winter storm.
This place was bigger than any residence in London should be. The main foyer opened to a wide room with a back wall made entirely of glass that stretched all the way up to the third floor. From the inside, Sydney could look through it to a huge, elegantly manicured garden. A waterfall curtain ran down one section of the glass wall, trickling into an indoor infinity pool that ran the back width of the house. The pool was designed in such a way that someone could swim in the cozy warmth of the indoors while watching the rain outside. Before the glass wall and the pool, a dramatic staircase of smooth white stone coiled up, spiraling around a modern chandelier of dripping crystals.
Beside her, Claire made a sound of approval at the space. Winter studied the home with a careful eye. Sydney realized to her annoyance that a space like this must be second nature to him, that his own home probably contained similar luxuries.
A man’s voice drifted to them from somewhere in the living room that they couldn’t see, calling for them to step in. Sydney felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. As they made their way down the rest of the foyer and into the living room, she found herself staring straight at two figures seated on a curving couch on the right side of the fireplace.
Eli Morrison and Penelope were already here. Before them on the low table lay an elegant feast—dishes of fresh caviar, slices of iced fruit,carefully cut meats, artfully plated meals of filet mignon and lobster. Glasses of champagne that looked like they’d just been poured.
Claire leaned over to them. “Nix the dinner at six,” she whispered. “I guess we’re eating now.”
Sydney felt a lurch in her chest. Eli Morrison waited for no one. He was a billionaire, and plenty of people greeted guests for him so that he didn’t have to.
