Jules is Lachlan’s height now and it’s still only kissing, as if that makes any difference, but it would take nothing for it to become more.
It would happen seamlessly, he knows.
Kissing, touching, pants down, hand over Jules’ mouth, it’d be less than a minute and then Lachlan would beruined.
The fact they’ve kept it to kissing is the only reason Lachlan still has the strength not to follow Jules to his room after they say goodnight, tension unbearably thick between them.The threads pick up when Jules’ heartbeat goes wild twenty minutes after Lachlan leaves him for the night.
He could tune into the sound if he wanted, but he never does.
There are limits.
There have to be.
Lachlan feels like he’s leading a double life.
But the balance holds,just about.
Then Savannah Alderwyck turns twenty-one in late July, and this is where Lachlan learns the true meaning of aclusterfuck.
?
Alistair Penhalyx is returning to the Estate.
There’s no official word as to why, though Lachlan suspects it has something to do with Savannah’s upcoming birthday after Vasily casually mentions it.He asks Carrigan more than once during their morning briefing if there’s confirmation of an approaching event.
She shrugs and says, ‘You’ll know when you need to.’
‘Ialwaysneed to know,’ Lachlan replies, dislikes the attitude entirely.‘Estate security may not be his priority, but it’s mine.’
‘It’s Mr Penhalyx’s Estate.We’re at his disposal.’
Priscilla Carrigan has started dressing differently lately, expensive clothes, new jewellery, hair styled every morning, makeup carefully done.She looks beautiful.Polished in a way Lachlan barely recognises and wouldn’t particularly care about if it weren’t for comments like this, little moments that make him stop and seriously question whether he still trusts her at all.
‘Do we have a guestlist at least?’
Carrigan sighs.‘Let it go, Lachlan.’
He doesn’t.
He can’t.
Hewon’t.
He remembers Savannah’s pale face when her own bodyguard turned, and Lachlan had to kill him.He knows howstupidthese fucking rich people are, how they invite danger and place the blame elsewhere when it all goes wrong.
Lachlan settles in for the rest of their daily rundown.
‘Heard.’
?
Lachlan briefs his teams, tightens security more than necessary around the Estate and preps Danya for the worst, assuming some extravagant party will be held here last minute and they’ll be left scrambling.
He finds a spare few minutes to speak with Sergei Zaitsev, who typically operates fromControlwith Rook.Zaitsev is tall, sharp and quiet.
‘Can we speak privately?’Lachlan asks when they’re already in an empty room in the South Wing, just below central.He watches as the older man, only by a year or two, grips his handset and focuses on it, then presses thetransmitbutton and holds it down.Faint static crackles in Lachlan’s earpiece.It’s like an advanced version of the trick he used to pull when speaking privately with Blaire.
‘One minute of wraparound.’His accent is heavier than Danya’s.‘You have come to ask me?’
