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I sitat the back of the café, out of view of the main seating area, so I don’t have to bother moving when the early risers descend in a couple of hours. I bury my head in figures, moving money to and from various accounts, covering tracks and metaphorically cleaning it as I go. Our biggest under-the-radar client and Miami mobster, Mario Bianchi, asked me on the sly to do a little laundering for him. I’m good, I’m discreet, but above all, with an esteemed career in the CIA behind me, I’m connected. Connor and the boys know what I’m doing, and as long as it’s a short term gig, they’re happy for me to do the work. The few extra grand in their pockets doesn’t do much to dissuade them either.
“Working hard, as always,” comes a familiar voice. I look up to see Elijah, the barista, standing over me holding a steaming cup of coffee. “You look like you need fueling, honey,” he winks.
“You’re too good to me, Elijah,” I say, winking back. We have a mild flirtation thing going on, even though he knows guys don’t float my boat. I love him, regardless.
“I can’t have my favorite bodyguard passing out from exhaustion now, can I?”
“That’s not going to happen anytime soon,” I smile.
“Not if you keep pounding those weights at the gym,” he purrs, his eyes crawling over my biceps.
“I do it for you,” I say, taking a grateful sip of the coffee.
“Oh, stop it, you do not,” Elijah says, flicking his head and pretending to stomp away in a huff.
I return to my screen and immerse myself once more. I shift a few things around in Starling’s end-of-week report, then turn my attention to the ticket sales for Aurelia’s residency. We sold out a three month run and had to add more dates only last week. I’m hoping to God she has the strength and the stamina to perform for such a long period. She looked to me like she’d blow over in a gentle breeze; I have my doubts she can maintain a residency for longer than twelve weeks.
“Honey, did you let it go cold?”
“Shit, I’m sorry, Elijah. I got carried away with this stuff. Any chance I can get a fresh one?”
“No problem,” he says. “Oh, by the way,” he adds, “that young starlet of yours is over by the window attracting her fair share of attention.”
“Aurelia Bird?” I ask, surprised. “She wasn’t supposed to be here for another three hours.” I crane my neck to follow Elijah’s gaze. I recognize her instantly. She’s sitting, like a ray of glitzy sunshine, baby blonde hair framed by the light from the window, chatting to two female guests. She’s wearing tiny shorts, a tank top that exposes her midriff and thick black sunglasses. She looks about thirteen. I roll my eyes as it dawns on me again what I’ve signed myself up for. I’m basically looking after a toddler for three, actually, no,fourmonths. At least she’s being polite to our guests, though, and not diva-ish like some of the other A-list celebrities we’ve had on the island.
“Forget the coffee, Elijah. But thanks.”
I shut my laptop and stand, tucking it under my arm, then I make my way over to her.
The closer I get, the more I take in. Her glittering laugh and bright teeth, slender shoulders and enthusiastic bob of her head as she talks. I stand behind the guests, waiting for them to finish their chat. I can’t tell if Aurelia has seen me because her sunglasses cover her eyes like a shield. Eventually, the women thank her for talking to them, take a few selfies with their phones and shuffle away with their take-out lattes, chattering excitedly.
“Hi,” I say, facing her. “I wasn’t expecting you for a couple more hours. How was the journey?”
She pushes her sunglasses up her forehead where they rest on a soft cushion of almost-white hair. Her rich hazel eyes are warm and I notice she wears no make-up at all. There’s a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and her lips elongate into a delicate smile. If I was ten years younger, I might have thought she was cute. She’s true to her brand image—squeaky clean, perky, and virginal. For most men, the dream girl.
“It was great, thank you. Please, sit,” she says. I take the chair opposite her.
“How are you feeling about the residency?” I settle back. I’m not officially on duty so I decide to take some time to get to know this girl I’m going to be shadowing for the next few months.
“Good! Really good,” she beams. “I haven’t done anything like this before. The closest thing was the world tour last year. It wasn’t back-to-back like this will be, but the traveling was pretty exhausting. It’s going to be nice to settle in one place for a while.”
“And I can think of worse places to settle for a while,” I grin.
“Right? This place is idyllic.” She looks out of the window giving me a view of her profile—a dainty, slightly upturned nose, perky chin and long, natural lashes. I’m not used to seeing youthful features since I’m mostly fixated on older women. I’m fascinated.
Catching myself, I turn the conversation straight to business. “What’s on your agenda today? You father sent me your schedule—”
“Mystepfather.” She turns back to me with a thin smile. “But I prefer to have him referred to as my manager if that’s ok?”
“Of course. Yourmanagersent me your schedule, but there was some detail lacking that I’d like to discuss with you, so we can plan a sufficient protection detail while you’re on site.”
“Of course. I’m happy to fill in any gaps.”
“Your first live performance is two weeks from today,” I begin. “The concert hall has been closed off for rehearsals. When do you plan to start?”
“Today,” she replies. “My dancers should be here by ten and we have rehearsals after lunch. My voice coach is arriving at four, and my publicist in an hour or so. Will you be able to accompany me to my PR meeting? It might give you a bit more insight into what I do.” A smile tugs at one corner of her mouth. “But you don’t have to stick around for rehearsals as Benji is here today too.”
I figure Benji is the big, suited guy sitting in the far corner of the café watching us closely.
