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“If you’re worried about the possible curtailment of your…private life,” Persy put in softly, “I assure you our protection will be as noninvasive as possible.”
Casper glowered. He doubted he would even want to have a private life if this beautiful woman was the one following and watching his every move.
A woman he recognized he was already attracted to far more than he had been to any other.
Something he was really unhappy about.
Not just because Persephone Jones, as a Kingston Security employee, was completely off-limits.
The truth was, up until eighteen months ago, none of the six Kingston brothers, or their cousin Adam, had been married, although Sinclair had been a widower for years. But during the past year and a half, all of Casper’s brothers and Adam had met the women they had instantly fallen in love with and married shortly thereafter.
Casper had believed he’d escaped what he now thought of as the family curse.
But one look at Persephone Jones, and he’d felt a huge chasm opening up in his chest.
A chasm that looked suspiciously like it was the exact size and shape of Persephone Jones.
If that should turn out to be the case, then, unlike the rest of the men in Casper’s family, he did not intend to graciously surrender to those feelings without putting up a fight.
Persy wasn’t exactly fawning over him in a show of returning that attraction either.
The opposite, in fact, he realized with amusement.
If anything, Persephone Jones was looking at him as if he was nothing more than a particularly interesting bug placed under the scrutiny of her all-seeing microscope.
CHAPTER TWO
“If you could all wait in the office next to this one?” Sinclair gave the security team members a dismissive smile. “As you heard, we have a possible client arriving in a few minutes. The time we’re talking to him will give Persy the chance to discuss which of you is going to take the first shift and accompany Casper back to the family estate once our meeting is over.”
“I’m still not happy about this,” Casper informed the rest of his family, once the bodyguards, including the beautiful Persy, had filed out of the room.
“I think you’ve made that more than obvious,” Adam drawled.
Max scowled. “To the point of being bloody insulting to Persy and her team.”
“That’s because I consider it a waste of our manpower when I rarely leave the Batcave.” Casper’s primary office was in one of the turrets of the large house on the family estate in Surrey.
Sinclair had transformed those rooms into a base for all his security monitors and other tech necessary for him to be able to monitor several situations at one time, and now Casper occupied that space with him.
Their eldest brother’s first wife had been kidnapped and murdered fifteen years ago. Once Sinclair had recovered sufficiently from the shock, he had begun to carry out his own investigations and dispense his own form of vigilante justice. The men responsible for Cathy’s death had received suitable punishment, if not lawfully, for their crime.
Sinclair now continued to find that justice on behalf of the victims and their families, who were suffering in similar circumstances when the police had failed, for whatever reason, to lawfully arrest and punish the people responsible.
Sinclair had remarried during the past year, and he and Remy were soon expecting the birth their first child together. Sinclair had subsequently asked all the men in the Kingston family to help with carrying out that vigilante justice. A request they were only too happy to agree to.
Which was the reason Casper had believed he was being driven into town today to attend an interview with Vadim Morozov, rather than being forced into accepting his own security detail.
The Russian oligarch had called Kingston Security late yesterday afternoon and spoken to Sinclair. A conversation in which he had claimed his wife had been kidnapped. A kidnapping the Russian had told them he’d been told not to report to the police, or his wife died. The Russian had instead decided to contact and ask Kingston Security Company for their help.
Morozov hadn’t given any explanation as to why he was okay with his appointment with Sinclair taking place this morning, rather than speaking with a member of the Kingston family immediately after he learned of his wife’s kidnapping.
Casper’s research ahead of this meeting, besides revealing where and how the man had illegally made his money, had told him that Vadim Morozov was a short and rotund man aged in his mid-sixties.
The noticeably dyed black hair, when he was shown into Sinclair’s office ten minutes later, along with two stoic-faced and muscular bodyguards who stood watchfully at the back of the room, was obviously an attempt to disguise that fact.
The older man’s face was also florid, possibly from consuming too much alcohol or food. Or possibly both, from the fact his eyes were bloodshot and the buttons on his suit jacket were obviously straining to remain fastened.
Photographs had shown Morozov’s missing wife, Polish-born Martyna Morozova, was thirty years younger than her husband, very slender, and extremely beautiful. The couple had been married for almost five years, but had no children.
