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“Miss Wolfe?” We both turn to see Guinevere coming along the hallway. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Miss White. I’ll be staying out here, you may retire for the night. Do not feel you have to be up and working early tomorrow.” Annika speaks as she starts typing away on her computer, no thanks for the poor woman who was rudely awoken in the middle of the night.
“Thanks Guinevere,” I say, looking up at her. “You were really helpful tonight, I’m sorry if it seemed I was snapping at you.”
She turns and gives me the warmest smile I’ve seen from her. “Not at all, Mr Campos.”
“Harvey,” I correct her with a smile.
“Harvey,” she agrees. She looks between Annika and me, tutting as she heads back the way she came. I look across to Annika expecting the same disdainful look, but she eyes me curiously.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She dips her head again, going back to her busy work.
Guinevere comes back a few minutes later with a tray carrying a cafetiere filled with coffee that permeates the air with a wonderful aroma, two cups, a jug of milk, and a plate with some biscuits on it. Turning to Annika as she places the tray on the carpet between us, she looks serious when she says, “Try and get some sleep, okay?”
Annika only glances at her and then goes back to her typing as Guinevere heads to her own bedroom. I pour myself a cup and take a sip before undoing my tie and the first two buttons of my shirt, wishing I had something more comfortable to wear.
14
ANNIKA
My eyes crack open to an unwelcome and unnatural light. Slowly becoming aware of my senses, I realise my cheek is pressed against something hard and uncomfortable. My neck is stiff and my back aching, my arse completely numb. Something woke me, the smell of fresh coffee wafting to my nostrils. I lift my head from the door frame and rub at my cheek, sure there must be an unsightly red line up the length of my face. Rolling my shoulders to loosen all the seized muscles, I blink to adjust to the bright lights of the hallway and find Harvey stood in front of me wearing long shorts and a grey tank that’s loose fitting and cut deep in the arms so the chiselled muscles of his pecs are nearly completely on show.
I must look confused as I stare up at him as he chuckles, handing me a steaming mug of coffee. He folds his legs, coming to sit opposite me where he’d been last night and takes a sip from his own mug.
“Morning, sleeping beauty.”
I stare at the liquid steaming from my cup. “Miss White is up?”
“No, she’s still sleeping. It’s still early, only seven o’clock,” he says, his lips still to the rim of his mug.
Seven? That’s late morning for me. “You made me coffee?”
“Yes.” He elongates the word, looking at me expectantly like he’s waiting for me to make a point.
“Why would you do that?”
He frowns. “Because you’ve been up most the night and what little sleep you have had was against a door frame? Because I know you drink coffee? Because I was awake before you and it was a nice thing to do? Pick one.”
“Why would you want to be nice to me?” I eye him charily.
“Jesus Christ. Has anyone ever looked after you who wasn’t paid to do so? I mean, I’m paid to be here and you’re still suspicious!” He shakes his head disbelieving.
“You’re hired to stand next to me and look menacing, not to make me coffee.”
He rolls his eyes. “I thought I was hired to protect you.”
“I told you,” I say rolling my head on my neck. “I don’t need protecting. You’re really nothing more than a status symbol.” I peer into the mug again.
“You really can be a bitch, you know that?” He doesn’t say it spitefully, just matter of fact.
For some reason, despite that description being used to my face and behind my back many times before, from his lips, it bothers me. I set my face into my go-to blank coolness and don’t look at him when I say, “That’s what they say.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did, and it’s fine, I care very little what you think of me,” I lie. “So, is there poison in this coffee?” I raise my brow at him, hoping the stupid indent on my cheek from the door frame isn’t diminishing my gravitas.
