“I look at you and see someone who will get himself killed if I am not careful.”
“Then maybe you're in the wrong job.”
“Maybe I am.” His voice went flat. Cold. “But until my boss recalls me, we are stuck with each other. So we can either make this work, or we can spend a long time fighting while people plan your assassination.”
Apollo whined softly, sensing the tension. He dropped the rope and pressed against my leg instead of Viktor's. Smart dog.
I took a breath. Let it out slowly. “I didn't want a bodyguard.”
“I did not want to guard a prince.” Viktor's expression didn't soften. “But here we are. Making best of bad situation.”
“So what now?”
“Now you let me do my job. And I will try to do it in way that does not embarrass you in front of cameras.” He paused. “But if I see threat, I will act. Even if you do not like it. Even if it makes you look weak. Because looking weak is better than being dead.”
“And what if I disagree with your assessment?”
“Then we argue about it after you are safe. Not during.”
I studied him. This immovable wall of discipline and duty who looked at me like I was both a responsibility and a problem he couldn't solve.
“Fine,” I said. “You do your job. I'll do mine. But stay out of my way when it's not a real threat.”
“I will decide what is real threat.”
“We'll disagree about that.”
“Yes,” he said. “We will.”
The silence that followed was not comfortable. It was the kind loaded with everything we hadn't said. All the ways this assignment was already going wrong.
Viktor moved toward the door. Stopped. Looked back.
“With permission, I will check your rooms.”
“Permission granted.” My voice came out colder than intended. “Try not to rearrange my furniture.”
He started the sweep with brutal efficiency. Checking corners, vents, balcony latches. All business. All professional distance.
Apollo followed him anyway, hopeful. Loyal to people who didn't want the loyalty.
I watched Viktor work. Watched the way he moved through my space like he owned it. Like he had the right to be here even though neither of us wanted this arrangement.
“Clear,” he said finally. “I will post guards at the end of the hall. Adjust the camera in the west corner. It is too low.”
“You noticed that in one pass.”
“I noticed it when we walked in.” He headed for the door. “I will be outside if you need anything.”
“I won't need anything.”
“Good.”
He left. Door closing with a quiet click that felt like punctuation on everything wrong about this situation.
Apollo whined, looking between the closed door and me. Confused why the soldier had left. Confused why I'd let him.
“Don't get attached,” I told the dog. “He's not staying. Soon as this assignment ends, he'll be gone. Back to whatever war zone he crawled out of.”
