I climb into the SUV without another word.
But as the door shuts behind me, I feel it.
That familiar awareness.
The one I used to feel every time he walked into a room.
Less slides into the front passenger seat. He exchanges some words with the driver.
Even without looking at him, I know exactly where he is.
Three years ago Alessio Figueroa broke my heart.
Now he’s supposed to protect me.
I turn my head to the window and slide on my sunglasses.
Everything inside me is telling me to run away.
To protect myself.
But I can’t.
I have to be professional about this.
“Miss Perkins, Mr. Carter hopes you’ll join him and his guests for dinner after the concert,” Debra says, passing me a bottle of water.
I smile noncommittally.
“Any changes to Miss Perkins' plans will have to go through me first,” Less interrupts, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“Dinner will be lovely, Debra. Thank Mr. Carter for the invitation,” I say immediately after his objection.
He frowns at me, and I swear I feel sparks ignite.
Score one for Amanda.
No matter what, I can’t afford to allow any leftover emotions I might have for an old boyfriend to complicate this job.
“Fantastic, I’ll let the staff know to add one more place setting,” Debra says, and begins typing out a message on her cell phone.
“Two,” Less says. “Where she goes, I go.”
And that, right there, is the problem.
Chapter 2
Less
Three years.
Three goddamn years.
And the second Amanda Perkins steps off that jet, it feels like someone drove a knife straight through my chest.
I wish I could tell her about that mission—the violence, the death, the fucking toll it took on me.
How I felt unclean afterwards. Unworthy of someone like her.