I heard the distant ping of the elevator down the hall.
Fuck.
“Marc?” I asked insistently.
“I… suppose—”
I cut him off, quickly gave him the street address, and said goodbye before hanging up. I brought the phone closer and opened the recent calls list. I swiped and deleted the record of Marc’s call at 7:42 a.m. before putting the phone back on the nightstand as the door opened.
I turned around and gave Calvin a smile, which I felt sort of slide off my face and hit the floor when a plainclothes Officer Rossi followed from behind, shutting the door as he entered.
“Oh” was all I got out.
Calvin gave me a look before saying, “Seb, this is Officer Nico Rossi. Rossi, I believe you already know Sebastian Snow.”
Rossi nodded stiffly. “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Rossi has been assigned as your protection,” Calvin continued.
“Lucky me,” I answered. I looked Rossi’s way as Calvin collected his cell and put his jacket and scarf on. His posture indicated he was about as thrilled to be assigned babysitting duty as I was for him tobethe babysitter.
“Text me when you reach the Emporium,” Calvin said as he stood in front of me, buttoning his coat.
I quickly turned my gaze to him and nodded. “Text, yup. Will do.”
“I’ll give you a call around noon. And remember, anywhere you go, Rossi goes. Clear?”
“Crystal.” I took the front of Calvin’s coat, tugged him closer, and stood on my toes to kiss him.
Calvin smiled. “See you tonight.” He kissed my temple before turning.
Rossi sort of startled to attention and gave a quick nod to Calvin. It was one of those knee-jerk reactions that suggested he wasn’t uncomfortable—per se—but that he was at least uncertain if his response to two men kissing should be… different, I guess. Like he didn’t realize our affection was exactly like any other couple and he could be as engaged or apathetic as he wanted to be.
“Regular intervals,” Calvin said to Rossi.
“Yes, sir.”
Once Calvin left the hotel room, I looked at Rossi while crossing my arms. “This will be fun.”
Chapter Six
I NEEDEDfood. And coffee. But I wasn’t looking to share a meal in the downstairs lounge with Rossi, so I forwent a semidecent breakfast in favor of eating whatever snacks or leftovers were squirreled away at the Emporium.
We exited the hotel, took a right, and caught a cab at the corner of Ninth Avenue for the long trek downtown. I sat in the back with Dillon—Rossi opted for the front with the driver.
“Pleasure to see you again, Rossi,” I finally said.
He didn’t respond.
“Sorry it was you who got saddled with this.” Sorry for him or for me—the jury was still out on that.
“I offered my services,” he said in a clipped tone.
I raised an eyebrow, stared at his right shoulder and arm, and the sort of blurry reflection of his face in the side mirror. He was looking down—texting on his phone, I think. “Couldn’t get enough of my charming personality, huh?”
He once again declined further comment.
Ah-ha. I got it.
