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“It’s no problem. My name is Sheldon, and I gathered as much. You need to call the police and fill out an incident report. I don’t have time to hang around, but if they have questions, you can give them my contact number,” I respond, handing her my business card.
Her brow crinkles. “You really think it’s necessary to call the police? I mean, he was a total jerk, but he didn’t do anything illegal.” Her head tilts as she waits for my answer, and it’s difficult to focus on anything except the long, bare, creamy expanse of her neck.
“Only because he wasn’t given the chance.” I’ve seen this type a million times, and by that look in his eyes, he’s not done with what he has in mind. “Call the police, Alexis.”
“Bossy much?” Her curls sweep behind her shoulder as she meets my eyes, a scowl marring her beautiful face. Almost immediately, her face breaks into a smile, and even though she tries to cover it with her hand, I see it before she can hide it.
My lips quirk at her attempted but failed sass. She has absolutely no idea just how bossy I can be. “More than you’ll ever know,” I retort, because no woman will ever see that side of me again, except the regulars at the club—the ones who thrive at doing as they are asked and are perfectly happy to go back to their everyday lives afterward. No explanations, no negotiations other than limits, and definitely no misconceptions.
Her plump pink lips draw into a tight line, and Alexis tosses her curls at me as she digs into the handbag hanging from her shoulder. “Well, thanks for the help. I’ll consider calling the police when I get back to the shop.”
I draw my eyes away from the curve of her hips and indented waist as she triumphantly holds up a set of keys. I’m sure my face shows my surprise. “It wasn’t a question, Alexis. If a report hasn’t been filed by end of day, I’ll do it myself, and I don’t think that’s what you want.” Turning, I leave her pondering how a perfect stranger would even know if she did or didn’t file it.
Nick is at the café door with all our drinks and a bag, no doubt filled to the brim with sugary desserts. I relieve him of the cardboard carrier of coffee, and before Cole’s even rejoined us, he’s torn open the sack and devoured one of the glazed donuts.
Cole catches up to us by the time we reach the car, and Nick holds the bag out for him so he can pick out a donut before he gets into the driver’s seat.
“None for you?” Nick asks, but it’s more of a statement than a question because he knows I won’t eat sugar for breakfast.
I shake my head, getting into the back seat. Cole has a long, chocolate pastry hanging out of his mouth as he starts the car. “Did you get the plate number?” I ask, placing each of their coffees in the holders between them before taking a drink of my own.
“I’ve got it. Give me a sec,” Cole mumbles, pulling his seat belt around him. “Got a picture of the plate.” He forwarded it to me before starting the car and pulling into traffic.
The minute the license number comes through, I send it to our intel department, instructing them to give me a full report on the man in the coffee shop, and Alexis Barrington, the pretty little blonde.
Katarina has a meeting with her great-uncle, who just happens to be the don of Italy—the very one suspected of putting a hit on her father, the kingpin of New York City. It takes a multitude of calls to ensure her safety from the Italian Family, and by the time I’m done, we’re nearing the other side of the city.
We’ve almost arrived at the skyrise, which is home to Chase and Katarina when they are in the city. My cell rings right before we’re about to pull up, and it’s the big boss himself. “Everything okay, Chase?”
“Hi, Sheldon. There’s been a slight change in plans. We’re going to need some help preparing Katarina for the meeting with her great uncle. I need a hairdresser, and Gaby didn’t realize the one we usually call is on vacation. Any chance you can find someone trustworthy or that already has security clearance? Sorry for the short notice, but I didn’t realize our regular wasn’t available.”
I’ve been assigned to keep this man’s wife safe for quite some time, and Chase Prestian has more money than most people in the world, yet his humility never ceases to amaze me. “No apology necessary. I’ll work on it right away.”
“Greatly appreciated, Sheldon.”
The line disconnects, and my mind immediately reverts to the vivacious blonde with striking violet-blue eyes and a sassy mouth. “Cole, flip around. We’re heading to Salon Diva.” Giving him the address Google pulls up on my phone, I ignore the grinning face looking at me from the rearview mirror.
Nick half turns in his seat, and his face spreads into a broad grin. “Something we should know?”
The ladies’ man of the group probably means well enough, but he’s always on the prowl and always trying to hook me and Cole up with his date’s friends. We both put up with his playful pestering to a point, but neither have ever taken him up on his offers. “Chase needs a hairdresser for Katarina this afternoon,” I remark, and then send a message to have intel get me the report on Alexis in the next ten minutes.
The drive through bumper-to-bumper traffic at midmorning gives me a chance to read the in-depth summary when it arrives. Alexis Barrington: twenty-three-years-old. Grew up with both parents in the suburbs of New York, about an hour north of the city. Active in language and communication clubs; fluent in English, French, Italian, and Spanish. She graduated high school magna cum laude at eighteen years of age. Instead of taking the summer off, she started cosmetology classes. She graduated after eighteen months, six months earlier than expected, and all while working nights and weekends cashiering at a local grocery store.
At nineteen and a half, she was accepted to New York State University and began working full time toward a bachelor’s degree in business. About the same time, she switched jobs and started working nights and weekends as a stylist in a shop near her home. She graduated from NYU, again at the top of her class, a week shy of her twenty-third birthday, and another six months early. About six months ago, she took a job at Salon Diva and moved into an apartment in the city. No police record, very minimal school debt, and savings that seem impressive for her age. No significant other referenced. No red flags in terms of security, and in a pinch, with heavy protection for the family, she’ll do.
Cole pulls alongside the red-bricked store that is Salon Diva, and Nick opens the passenger door, but I don’t think so. “Stay here with Cole; I won’t be long.” Ignoring his stupid grin, I slam the door behind me as I exit the car.
A bell rings as I walk through the salon door and up to the sleek black reception desk. Alexis walks out from around the corner covered by a long black apron with Salon Diva emblazoned in white lettering. The perfect smile on her beautiful face turns into a frown as she glances around, realizing we’re the only two people in the shop. “What are you doing here?”
I can hardly blame her for being nervous after what happened just a short while ago. “I didn’t mean to scare you. My team and I were across town when we got word that the woman we’re working for needs a stylist to take care of her hair and nails. I thought of you and was wondering if you’d like the job. It’s short notice, and you’d need to do it today, but the pay is excellent.”
Alexis stares at me wide-eyed, and I get the distinct feeling she’s gauging the validity of my offer. Clearly not too trusting, which in this day and age is hardly a bad thing. “How much does it pay?” Tilting her head, she exposes that long, creamy neck of hers, making it difficult to focus on anything she’s saying.
I’d love to slide my hands and mouth down that delectable column, tasting her skin until she’s panting for more of my attention. My dick twitches at the thought, making me glad Alexis is behind the counter and can’t see the bulge already forming in my pants.
She’s still waiting for an answer, and Chase will pay whatever it takes, but I don’t know how much will incentivize her to walk away from her clients at Salon Diva for an entire afternoon and take a job with a total stranger. I decide to go high, thinking back to what she owes on her school loans. “What about five thousand dollars since it’s such short notice,” I answer, taking in her gasp of surprise, and then the narrowing of her violet-blue eyes as she contemplates my outrageous offer.
“Seriously? Just who am I going to style, the Queen of England?”
