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Prologue
“I need discretion. I need tact. I need someone who will remain in total control at all times.”
Midas Monroe lounged in the leather chair and let a slow smile curve his lips. “Discretion is my middle name.” Oh, no, it really, really wasn’t. He rolled one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Or maybe it’s tact. I am a master when it comes to tact.” As far as keeping control… “I’ve never had a single complaint about my lack of control. I keep all of my jobs completely professional, and I always protect my charge.” That was his business after all—protection. Guarding the ones who found themselves in danger.
Maybe they were being stalked.
Maybe they had an ex who wouldn’t let go.
Maybe they’d dipped into dangerous business that they now regretted.
People came to him for all sorts of reasons. The why didn’t particularly matter to Midas. He always watched their asses. And got a nice, fat payday when the job was done.
His gaze slid around the study and dipped toward the large picture window on the right. The window that overlooked the tall, thick trees and the snow-capped mountain in the distance. A million-dollar view. Truly. Of course, the house itself probably went for about four million, give or take some change. The place smelled of money, and the man before him? Ryker Bellamy. He was old money. Passed down generation to generation. Not that Ryker hadn’t done his part to add to the family pot. The guy had been in the real estate business ever since he stepped foot out of his Ivy League college.
Freaking money to burn.
A life that was far, far different from Midas’s.
Of course, most people had lives very, very different from his. Because not everyone had a serial killer for a father. I’m just the lucky one.
Unlucky one.
Cursed.
“I…know about your past,” Ryker murmured as he tugged at his tie.
Midas contemplated pretending to be shocked. Thought about letting his jaw drop dramatically. Sometimes, he truly enjoyed fucking with people. But, nah. This time, he just rolled his eyes. “And obviously, it doesn’t matter, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“You…you work quite a bit with the Feds.”
He worked with one Fed in particular quite a bit. Technically, a former Fed now. His buddy, Oliver Foxx.
“Special Agent Foxx is the individual who recommended you to me.”
Now Midas straightened. He’d figured that maybe his last client had told Ryker about his services. After all, the bulked-up action star had a place in Colorado Springs, Colorado, too. That man wouldn’t know real action if it bit him on the ass. Course, that was why he’d needed Midas, and Midas had been happy to take the payday, protect the guy from a female fan who’d gone off the deep end, and even show the actor a few tricks to use in his next flick—
“Foxx said you could be discreet.”
Back to that, were they? Midas grunted.
“Tactful.”
Ryker was going through the list again. Midas began to tap his left index finger against the arm of the chair. “Want to get to the point?”
“My daughter.”
Just those two words. Nothing more. Seriously, it was like pulling teeth with Ryker Bellamy. But, Midas knew quite a bit about the woman in question. Before coming to this meet-and-greet, Midas had researched Ryker and his family. Not like he ever went into a situation unprepared. So he was well aware of the man’s daughter. “Alina Bellamy.” Her mother had been a Russian beauty who married Ryker after she met him in Paris. Her mother’s second marriage. From all accounts, a happy one, too. Until Alina’s mother had died in a skiing accident. One that occurred two days after Alina’s eleventh birthday. That must have wrecked her. “Alina’s the figure skater,” Midas said, voice flat and emotionless. Because he could be emotionless whenever he wanted.
Ryker stiffened. “She’s not just a figure skater. Alina will be a gold medal winner in the next Olympics. She is the current world champion in women’s figure skating. No one is better on the ice than she is. No one.”
Okay, someone was clearly passionate about ice skating. “She got a stalker you’re worried about? Some fan who is sending her crazy emails and letters?” He’d seen that plenty of times. People in the spotlight attracted attention. Good and bad attention.
He was the one typically called in to handle the bad attention. His forte.
“Something like that.” Ryker sniffed. “I’ve tried to hire guards before. Alina hasn’t liked them.”
A laugh slid from Midas. “She’s not gonna like me, either.” Few people did. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not in the business to be liked. I’m in the business of keeping my charges alive. Protecting them, for a hefty fee.” He smiled. Best to just go ahead and get the fee business out of the way now.
