Page 152 of Bleed

We eventually reached a compromise.

“She’ll require a dedicated driver and bodyguard for any outings I’m not present for,” I tell Albert. “The bodyguard can be selected from our current security personnel. Conduct interviews, run high-tier clearance screenings, and select the three strongest candidates for me to choose from. As for the driver…”

I flick Bex a sideways glance, and she beams back at me.

This was her only request regarding the arrangement, and one I’m more than happy to accommodate.

“Beatrix has requested an employee from Bite’s current roster. A chauffeur named Matt. Get in touch with Francesca, acquire his contact information, and make him an offer. Double whatever the agency is paying him.”

“I’ll get it done,” Albert says.

I nod.

He knows me well enough to recognize the dismissal and turns toward the elevator.

“Don’t you wanna stay and hang out?” Beatrix calls.

He stops, glancing back over his shoulder.

She lifts her wine glass enticingly. “Eli opened the good stuff.”

I frown.

While I appreciate Albert, this bottle is not for him.

He looks at me, and I stare back.

Absolutely fucking not.

His mouth twitches, gaze sliding to Bex.

“Not tonight,” he tells her. “You two enjoy…” He gestures vaguely between us. “Whatever you have going on.”

Beatrix makes a face at him, and Albert rolls his eyes with a chuckle before continuing toward the elevator.

A moment later, he’s gone, and quiet settles over the penthouse once more. I take another sip of wine, enjoying both the taste and the silence.

“You scared him off,” Beatrix accuses.

I turn to look at her. “I did no such thing.”

“You gave him the look.”

“What look?”

She narrows her eyes at me.

I take another drink, neither admitting nor denying it.

Apparently deciding the argument isn’t worth pursuing, she drops back onto the sofa and stretches her legs across my lap again.

Much better.

I wrap one hand around her foot, pressing my thumb into the arch. She makes a pleased little sound and sinks lower into the cushions as she pulls out her phone.

A moment later, the portable speaker I bought her comes to life, filling the silence with aggressive percussion, synthesized bass, and a woman singing about something I can’t be bothered to decipher.

I dislike it immediately.