“We’ll see,” I said. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no. That was fair and gave me room to scout the territory when we were in town and make informed decisions.
“Thank you,” she said, as though she’d won some major victory.
I should have been polite and said she was welcome, but given the way Arthur and Merlin were both looking at me, I thought it best to stare out my own window. This was a job. Nothing more. I’d keep her safe, get her home to Michigan, and then I’d head to White Spring and leave all this knight-in-shining armor bullshit behind me.
That’s how it had to be. That’s how it always was.
Chapter 11
Grace
The Four Seasonsexterior was all ancient granite with huge columns and wrought-iron decorations, but the inside was cozy luxury. The white and beige marble floors were decorated with artistic rugs in reds and purples, while more pillars dotted the walls. Staff in immaculate gray uniforms moved past with the ease of people who thought this history and grandeur was something to be expected, rather than marveled at.
I clutched the handle of my rollerbag tighter and tried not to look like someone who’d spent the flight reading romance novels on her phone while a muscled ex-operator hovered over her.
Garrett strode through the lobby as though he belonged here. Or like he didn’t care whether he belonged anywhere. His eyes swept the space in the quick, assessing way I was starting to recognize. He’d done the same thing at my café, at my apartment, and even at Tristan and Isabella’s house.
Did he ever justlookat things without evaluating their tactical value?
At the check-in desk, a young woman with a sleek blonde bob greeted us with a warm smile. “Welcome to the Four Seasons. Do you have a reservation?”
“We do,” Garrett said. “Under Cruz.”
She typed and clicked on her computer, nodded, and within minutes we had keycards and directions.
“This way.” Garrett touched my elbow, steering me toward the elevators.
The contact sent an unexpected rush of warmth through my arm.Stop it. It’s his hand on your elbow.It was impersonal, except my body hadn’t gotten the memo since the shirtless kitchen incident, and it definitely hadn’t recovered from the hand-holding on the plane.
Get a grip, Grace. He’s doing a job.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and we stepped inside. Garrett pressed the button for our floor, then positioned himself between me and the doors. Even here. Even in an elevator, he was standing between me and… and what?
“Do you expect someone to attack us between the lobby and our room?”
“No.” He didn’t say more.
“Then why?—”
“Habit.”
The elevator rose smoothly, and I watched the numbers climb. My reflection in the polished brass showed a rumpled, tired woman with circles under her eyes that no amount of in-flight moisturizer had fixed. Next to Garrett’s solid presence, I felt like a mess pretending to be put together. The doors opened onto a long hallway with a short-pile carpet that muffled our footsteps. Modern art in sleek frames lined the walls, between the tall, rich oak doors on either side. I was even a mess compared to the hallway.
Garrett stopped at a door near the end of the hall. He didn’t open it right away. “Wait until I give you the all clear.”
“What? Why?—”
But he was already tapping the keycard, already pushing the door open and ushering me inside before I could finish. The door closed behind us, and he motioned for me to stay put while he did his thing.
I wasn’t sure I could have moved, anyway. The suite was gorgeous. It was roughly the size of my apartment back home, which shouldn’t have been impressive, except everything in it screamed money in a way my Brenton one-bedroom didn’t. A sitting area with a plush purple sofa and two matching armchairs, arranged around a short black table, occupied the center of the room. Around the corner, a partial wall housed a built-in TV and fireplace, and beyond that, I glimpsed the bed. No door between the sitting room and the bed. Only an architectural divide.
Garrett stalked through the room, checking behind and underneath every surface. A minute passed. Two. After five more, he nodded to me. “Clear.”
“Clear of what, exactly?”
“Anything that shouldn’t be here.” He waved me in to explore. “Come on.”
The floor-to-ceiling windows pulled at me first. Pushing aside the sheer curtains, I looked out at the Thames. And there, lit golden in the late afternoon sun?—
