“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I exit first, scanning the area on autopilot before opening his door.
His parents are already waiting on the massive front porch.
“Darling!” Monica Kingsley rushes forward, arms outstretched. She envelops Wyatt in a hug that he barely returns. “We’ve missed you. It’s been ages.”
“It’s been two weeks, Mom,” Wyatt grumbles.
Carson Kingsley approaches more slowly, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Good to see you, son.” He nods to me. “Mr. Holt.”
I nod back. “Sir.”
“Come, come.” Mrs. Kingsley links her arm through Wyatt’s. “We’re having lunch on the veranda. It’s such a beautiful day.”
The veranda overlooks manicured gardens that stretch to a small lake at the edge of the property. A table has been set with fine china and crystal that catches the midday sun. A staff member pulls out chairs for Mrs. Kingsley and Wyatt.
I take up my position near the doors leading back into the house. Close enough to act if needed, far enough to give the illusion of privacy.
“How have you been, sweetheart?” Mrs. Kingsley asks, reaching across to touch Wyatt’s hand. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine.” Wyatt’s tone is clipped. “Just a late night.”
Mr. Kingsley’s eyes flick to me briefly before returning to his son. “Nothing too exciting, I hope.”
“Actually,” Wyatt sets down his water glass, “I wanted to talk to you both about something.”
The shift in his tone makes both parents straighten. Mrs. Kingsley’s smile falters. Mr. Kingsley’s face remains neutral, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes.
“Of course, darling. What is it?”
Wyatt glances at me, a flash of something cold in his eyes. “I’d like Daniela to join us.”
“Daniela? Is this a security matter?” Mr. Kingsley asks.
“In a way.” Wyatt’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
Mr. Kingsley nods to the staff member, who disappears into the house. Minutes later, Daniela emerges. She’s dressed in her usual professional attire—dark slacks and a button-up shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes move from Wyatt to me, and I see the question in them.
I keep my face blank.
“You asked for me?” Daniela directs the question to Mr. Kingsley, but her gaze lingers on Wyatt.
“Actually, I did,” Wyatt says. “I wanted to discuss a personnel issue.”
Daniela’s eyebrow rises. “Oh?”
“Yes.” Wyatt leans back in his chair, feigning casualness. “Mr. Holt and I aren’t working out.”
The words hang in the air. Mr. Kingsley sets down his coffee cup, studying his son. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“It's not a good fit.” Wyatt shrugs one shoulder. “We have…different approaches to things.”
“Different approaches. Could you be more specific?”
Wyatt’s eyes flick to me again. I can see him weighing how much to reveal. If he tells them I physically carried him out of the club, it might raise questions about why.
“We just clash,” he says finally, “personality-wise.”
Mrs. Kingsley looks distressed. “But Mr. Holt has such excellent credentials, and Daniela vouched for him personally.”
