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Sean appears uneasy. “Roxanne, the press coverage of the event last night means everyone, good and bad, now knows you’re mine. They could hurt you just to devastate me.”
Damn. It’s a little different just hearing that out loud.
“One of the things I’m doing today is meeting with De Luca. I’ll fill you in when I get back.” He looks uncomfortable about something.
“What’s wrong?”
“Remember the organized crime detective that was working the dead girls’ case?”
I nod.
“My contact in the department seems to think he may be looking into you. I’m concerned that he may be working with the Russians.”
Well, shit.
“Delightful.” I flop back down. “I really bit off more than I could chew, didn’t I?”
Sean chuckles. “Aye, ya did. But relax, love, this is just business for us. We’ll get it sorted out.”
“How do you not have a million gray hairs and a heart condition by now?” Seriously.Just business.
“Because we’re good at it.”
I roll my eyes. “Modest too.”
He leans forward and kisses my forehead. Then a mischievous gleam shines in his eyes and he kisses my throat, right over my pounding pulse. He stands, headed for the door. “I’ll let you know how the meeting goes. Be good, baby. Have fun with Tasha.” As an afterthought, he reminds me, “Don’t forget Declan.”
And then he’s gone.
Declan. My bodyguard. Because I now live in a world where that’s a fucking thing. I text Tasha.
Me: Freedom! I’m going for coffee at the Hippie Bean. Wanna?
Tasha: sure! It will be like an hour or so.
Me: I’ll save you a seat.
Tasha: awesome
Clicking through my contacts, I see a new entry. Declan. I send him a quick message and get a brief ‘aye’ in return. That’s going to take some getting used to.
I shower, and dress in skinny jeans and black riding boots that go over my knee. A warm black cowl neck tunic matches nicely. On a whim I grab my large purse and laptop. I might have time to kill and can start working on a new manuscript.
I stop by Sean’s office, but it’s empty. The meeting must be happening wherever it is gangsters meet other gangsters. I head out the front door, jumping slightly to find a man standing there.
“Hello, ma’am.” He’s young, his accent barely a trace. “Declan is waiting for you in the garage.” He gestures to an elevator.
“Oh, thank you…”
“Liam, ma’am.”
“I’m not old enough to be a ma’am. I hope not at least? Am I?” I’m a little horrified about it.
Liam looks intensely uncomfortable. “I’m not actually supposed to answer that, am I?”
“No, we’re good. But call me Rocky, ok?”
He smiles and nods.
