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“Lessia,” Gideon whispered, but she shook her head.
“No, Gideon. Y’all have made it abundantly clear just what your opinion of me is. As if, by becoming a model, I was required to hand over half of my IQ. I’m an adult.” She was firm, meeting all her brothers, look for look. “And I clearly demonstrated the ability to reach out for advice when needed. You wonder why I’m gone so much? Why I spend more and more time away from my home? Take a look in the mirror.” She didn’t wait for any of them to respond before walking out the door.
I jumped up, hustling to catch up with her. “Miss Accardi?” I called, but she didn’t slow. “Alessia?” She stopped then, turning around to look at me.
“Brody, right?” She offered me a tight smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes or cover the hurt in them. “I’m sorry you had to witness that bit of family drama.”
I extended my hand. “Can’t change your family,” I offered the reminder. God knew I wouldn’t have chosen mine if I’d had a say in it. She looked at my hand for a moment in surprise as I shook it firmly, businesslike, and completely non-sexual. I supposed she was more used to pretty boys kissing her hand and acting all suave, but I was who I was. Couldn’t see changing that now.
She gave a small laugh, but it was a sad attempt at humor. “Not sure I would even if I could, damn them.” Shaking her head as if to clear it, she took a step back. “It was nice meeting you, but I best get going. I might as well not waste the day.”
I stopped her before she could take a step. “Actually, I’m here for you.”
The words stopped her short, her eyes flaming with suspicion, and her body jerked as if I’d touched her with a live wire. “I beg your pardon?” Her tone was polite, but I saw her guard go on full alert.
I winced. “Sorry, that didn’t come out as intended.” What the hell was wrong with me? I sounded like a deranged kidnapper. “What I meant to say is that I’m your new PSO.” I reached into my bag, careful to keep my movements clear and slow, so I didn’t rattle her any more than I had. I pulled out my contract with Valencia, another detail I’d finalized over the weekend, and handed it to her.
She reached for the papers, reading them line by line. “I’m sorry for the confusion,” she said, handing them back to me. “But there must be some mistake. My contract stipulates that no one associated with A.T. can be hired on my behalf. As you just saw, conflict of interest is something I contend with on a regular basis, and anyone who worked or has worked with or for my brothers is not someone I can trust to have my back.” Her contract stipulation Keene had mentioned in his office the other day made so much more sense after what I saw.
I nodded, and she gave me a relieved look when she thought she’d shaken me. “I agree, but since I have not worked for or ever have plans to work for your brothers in any capacity, I nor Valencia have violated your agreement.”
That froze her, and for the first time, I saw panic in her eyes. Then, just like in the conference room, she cleared her expression in a single blink of her eerily purple eyes. “When you came in on Friday, you said it was to talk to Keene. Sounds like you have some sort of loyalty to him.” Her snipped reply was understandable.
“I served some of the same time as Keene, and we have mutual friends in common.” I’d planned my answer over the weekend, taking Keene and Boone’s warning to heart that she wouldn’t welcome me if she knew I had any ties with them. All of it was true, just not the whole truth. After what I just saw, I couldn’t blame her thoughts and yet again wondered if it was even necessary for me to be there in place of the man who’d been in the position before me. “Since I knew him, I only felt it right to stop in and let him know I would be working with you, though I apologize for not introducing myself. I hadn’t seen your picture yet and didn’t realize you were the same person as the model that Valencia wanted me to protect.”
A lie, but a small one in the grand scheme of things. Her assessing look was another clue that she was anything but stupid. She couldn’t catch my lie but knew something wasn’t completely on the up and up. “I’m sure you want to validate everything, and I also know you likely want to get out of here.” I offered up the olive branch, hoping to gain some points in my favor, knowing I’d need as many as possible with this woman. “I will be happy to meet you somewhere if you would prefer that. Your brother offered a company SUV if I needed it since I’m not supposed to take over your detail officially until we leave tomorrow, but I can ride with you if you don’t want me to use A.T. resources.” I knew I made it sound like I didn’t have a personal vehicle, but I also knew that my old truck would stand out like a Longhorn in a pen of Holsteins, and being as unobtrusive as possible was part of my objective.You also want the chance to get close enough to her to wipe that look of hurt from her eyes.I pushed that thought aside.
She looked unsure for a moment, but I was learning her brain was as fast as a computer, processing the situation and options in less than a second. “If you don’t mind, let’s head to my car. I can make some calls on our way down.”
I nodded, grabbing my bag from Keene’s office as we passed by it. I hoped she didn’t pay any mind to it, but I knew her suspicion grew when I made the quick stop. She was playing it smart, keeping herself protected by the building’s security before allowing herself to leave with me, and I was glad she took her safety seriously. It took less than five minutes for her to realize she was stuck with me. She herself had emailed her acceptance at a security replacement over the weekend, though she hadn’t realized it was me she’d agreed to.
Alessia didn’t look happy—I would go so far as to say she was fuming, but she didn’t turn her fury on me, so I called it a win. Tossing me the keys to her black BMW sports car, she slammed the door as she settled into the passenger’s seat. “Well, Mr. McCallister. We appear to be stuck with each other for the time being. But when I find out you’re planted by my brothers, I’ll kick you to the curb faster than you can blink.”
I hid my smile at thewhen, notif, in her statement. “Where would you like to go?” I asked, backing out of the parking space.
“Just start driving. I’ll tell you when to turn.” She barely looked at me, typing furiously into her phone. I was happy to be directed to an Italian restaurant and parked in a spot well away from the other vehicles. She waited patiently as I circled to open the car door, obviously well versed in security protocols and not about to cause trouble for me. Her brothers had been clear that she was a handful—I was prepared for her to try to run on me or make my life difficult as I tried to protect her—but she’d done neither so far. She also hadn’t run back to her house, home base, so to speak. Most people would want home field advantage when being thrown for a loop the way she was, already reeling from the curveball her brothers had lobbed her way that morning, but instead, she picked a small little restaurant off the beaten path.
Getting us a table for two, she settled in the booth with her back to the wall. Instead of challenging me, knowing I needed the position for her safety so I could see everyone coming and going, she slid over, making room for me to sit beside her. “I can’t stand having my back to the room,” she admitted when she saw my curious look. “Hazard of having brothers who loved to torment their little sister when we were kids.”
Again, something about that statement didn’t ring true. She wasn’t lying, but I definitely wasn’t getting the full story from her either. “I appreciate you not taking your surprise out on me. I can understand not being happy with the situation, but I assure you I’m here for your safety, not to spy on you for your brother.”
I was being truthful. Keene might have asked me to watch her, but I wasn’t about to spill her secrets to him just because he was a friend. I kept my work completely professional. Sure, I hadn’t done it as a civilian, but I’d been assigned PSO duties in the past and was confident in my abilities and the lines I needed to stay within.
“I appreciate that,” she said but seemed more preoccupied with her phone than what I had to say. I shut my mouth, nodding to the server in appreciation when she dropped off a basket of bread and two glasses of water on the table.
She put her phone aside—the food was clearly more interesting than I was—and grabbed a piece of bread. She tore it in half, putting part of it back in the basket before smothering it in butter and plopping it in her mouth. “I love bread.” She sighed after swallowing it whole.
“I would have never guessed,” I said wryly, taking my own slice of the steaming goodness and tearing off a piece, then taking a bite.
“So, why did you decide to become a PSO?” she asked, looking at the basket with a forlorn expression but not making a move to take another piece of bread. I tore a small chunk of the one in my hand, giving her another small bite. Surprise registered on her face as our hands touched. Whether it was because I’d given her what she’d clearly been about to deny herself or the zing I’d certainly felt when our hands touched, I wasn’t certain.
I shrugged. “I like the challenge of it, the constant change of pace. I take the jobs I want, but I’m a private contractor, so I’m not stuck with anyone I don’t like.” Winking at her, I continued, “Though I’m hoping you will be easier to work with than some of my past clients.” Okay, I might be going a little far in making it sound like I had experience outside the Marine Corps, but if she found out I hadn’t done this since getting out, I knew my goose was cooked. And I was hoping she would be easier to handle than some assignments I’d had in the past. Guarding dignitaries and high-profile business executives who thought they were untouchable were not my best days spent in the military.
“What about you? Why did you decide to become a model?” I could have cut off my tongue. Her face closed, a door slamming on her emotions, replaced with an icy mask. I recognized the look as one she had on most of the candid pictures taken of her on modeling sets.
“I’ve always dreamed of becoming a model,” she said, but I could tell it was a line. “What girl wouldn’t want to travel to some of the most beautiful places in the world, wearing gorgeous dresses, and see her face on the cover of magazines?”
Apparently not this one, I thought. I was saved from answering when the server returned to take our order. She ordered a large chicken Caesar salad, dressing on the side, and, deciding lunch sounded better than breakfast anyway, I chose the fettuccini. The server gave us a quizzical look, probably because of the early hour, but I figured there probably weren’t many choices for a model counting calories in a place that was known for their homemade baked goods for breakfast.
