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Think, Persy, bloody think!
Right, first she needed to send Martyna to her bedroom, so the other woman was out of sight.
Then answer the door.
“Go into the spare bedroom and stay there until I come and get you,” she whispered to the other woman. “Do not come out for any other reason. Do you understand?”
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Martyna looked on the point of hysteria again as she wrung her hands together and stared at the door like a deer caught in the headlights. “He’s going to kill me. He’s going to beat me first, and then he’s going to kill—”
“Go into the bedroom, Martyna.” Persy turned the woman firmly in the directly of the hallway to the two bedrooms and bathroom. “It isn’t your husband,” she stated with more confidence than she was feeling.
There was a remote chance, with the information Morozov’s money could undoubtedly buy, that he might track Martyna down to this apartment. But it was extremely remote, considering the precautions Persy had taken.
“Go,” she ordered Martyna fiercely, waiting until the other woman had stumbled into the bedroom and closed the door behind her before giving a quick glance about the sitting room and adjoining kitchen to check that there was nothing visible to incriminate her in Martyna Morozova’s disappearance.
As a precaution, before bringing Martyna here yesterday, she’d locked away any of her personal items and photographs in the safe in the wardrobe in her bedroom.
No doubt Martyna’s natural curiosity would have caused her to look through all of Persy’s two-bedroomed apartment today. If she had, she wouldn’t have found anything that revealed a single detail of Persy’s personal life.
Satisfied nothing was out of place, Persy marched over to the door.
A single glance through the peephole revealed her visitor wasn’t Vadim Morozov, but Casper Kingston!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Casper raised his hand to ring the doorbell of Persy’s apartment a second time after the first one wasn’t answered.
Before he could do that, the door was thrown open, and a very disgruntled Persy stood there glaring at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The question and the indignation were to be expected. What Casper wasn’t ready for was seeing that glorious red-gold hair cascading loosely over Persy’s shoulders. She looked younger with her hair down, and even more beautiful, if that were possible.
“You didn’t say goodbye earlier before you went off duty,” Casper stated evenly.
“I didn’t see the need to do so when I was merely swapping out with Caleb while Richie took over from Jeff in patrolling the grounds.”
“No?”
“Something I find to be of far more importance right now is how did you get into London?” she demanded before Casper could ask any more questions.
With a normal protectee, that would have been the usual protocol, but they both knew Casper wasn’t a normal protectee.
“I was a good boy and asked my protection detail to drive me here,” he taunted. “They’re waiting outside in the SUV.”
“Which means that same protection detail must now also be aware it’s my apartment you’re visiting,” she accused impatiently as she picked up her cell phone and read the message on the screen. “Yep,” she sighed. “Caleb sent me a message a minute ago warning me you were on your way up here.”
“Why is that a problem?”
She glared “Why is that— It’s a problem because now they’re also going to think that—that—”
“You and I have something more personal going on?” Casper teased.
“Yes!” she accused. “And maybe that doesn’t bother you, but those men are part of my team. I need to earn and keep their respect. Being a woman in charge is difficult enough, but having my men think I’m intimately involved with one of the bosses totally undermines my authority as head of that team.”
“I could always explain—”
“Please don’t attempt to explain anything to them, it will only make the situation worse,” she snapped as she typed something on her cell phone and pressed Send before placing it back on the coffee table. “I asked what you’re doing here.”
Casper leaned casually against the doorframe as he quirked a mocking brow. “Pissing you off, apparently,” he drawled.
