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"It’s not happening, Dad. Pick another battle.”
His eyes gleam. Damn it! I walked right into this. Dad stares at me, daring me to fight him.
“I’m paying for a bodyguard. 24/7 protection.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “That seems like overkill.”
Sensing a brewing fight, Henry steps in, his hand landing on my shoulder. I tip my head back, my eyes meeting his deep brown ones.
“I think your father is right, Thelma. We can’t offer that kind of protection if you continue to work.”
I think it might be the best offer I’m going to get. “Fine.”
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to like it.
Chapter 10
THELMA
Pacing a track through the living room, I ignore the glorious view for probably the first time. They’re on their way. Dad buzzed from the town car.
I stop pacing at the entrance to the small alcove where the front door is, glaring at it, chewing my tongue, my arms crossed over my chest.
There is a knock, and I blow out a breath, squaring my shoulders as I step up and open it, moving back to allow them entry.
Dad strides inside, dropping a kiss on my cheek. He’s followed by a good-looking man in a navy suit with tousled blonde hair. The door closes behind them, and Dad and the bodyguard trail me into the living room.
“This is Grady Quinn from the Rothwell Agency.”
Ah, the private security contractors based in California. Dad has gone all out for this. Everyone knows the Rothwell Agency doesn’t come cheap. My undergraduate sorority sister, Amber Campbell, always had a Rothwell Agent trailing her everywhere at UCLA.
She found them annoying. I kind of forgot about them after a while. They were very proficient at fading into the shadows.
Turning to him with a sigh, I meet his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Quinn.”
His lips twitch like my grudging acknowledgment amuses him.
“And you, Ms. Rampwood.”
Ugh. He’s not calling me Ms. Rampwood for the foreseeable future.
“Please, we’re about to be sharing a kitchen. It’s Thelma.”
His lips twitch again. “Of course.”
Ugh. Dad shoots me a look that is telling me not to try to give Grady Quinn the slip. Like that would happen. I remember Amber casually mentioning that the Rothwell Agency almost exclusively hired ex-military. Like, elite ex-military. How would I give an ex-Navy Seal the slip?
Dropping another kiss on my cheek, Dad sighs as he leaves.
“This is serious, Thelma.”
“I know, Dad.”
I wave him off, the front door clicking shut behind him. Normally, I would relax when guests leave, but my shoulders stay tense because I’m not alone. Turning with a smile, I lock eyes with Grady Quinn again.
“Your room is through here.”
He follows, two black duffel bags hanging from his hands. I stop beside the door to my spare bedroom, gesturing inside. Grady walks in, and I retreat to the kitchen, flicking on the coffee machine.
