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He needed to do this for Lukas.
And for Vela Ada.
‘I sincerely apologise, Ms Gallagher,’ Marko said, again meeting her gaze squarely. ‘I assure you it won’t happen again.’
She raised an eyebrow, but then she nodded. A neat, controlled movement—like all her movements, he suspected.
He didn’t like that she clearly didn’t believe him. Did Jasmine think he was the Playboy Prince, too? That he was some frivolous, useless heartbreaker who’d abandoned his country and left his brother to deal with all that royalty bother while he flitted around the world enjoying himself?
Probably.
And he wouldn’t be able to talk her around, especially after that rather woeful first impression.
He didn’t bother to analyse why it mattered what the head of his protection team thought of him—he knew, instinctively, it wouldn’t make any difference to the quality of service that Jasmine would provide.
But it did matter.
Maybe because he genuinely wasn’t the man who—as Jasmine had said—ogled his employees. Or maybe it was because if he wanted all of Vela Ada to respect him, he needed to start with the people standing around him.
Or maybe it was just because Jasmine Gallagher had remarkable golden eyes.
