Close Protection

Chapter 6 Daphne

6 Daphne

I gasp awake and check the clock beside me, 2:42 a.m. Right on time.

I sit up and grab my sleep log notebook to write down the nightmare. I’ve had a lot fewer these past years, but every time it’s always the same one, over and over again.

I check my surroundings and go through my routine of reassurance.

‘You’re fine. No one is trying to hurt you. No one’s in the basement. You’re okay,’ I mumble as I climb out of my bed and slide my slippers on.

Over the years, I’ve developed somewhat of a routine when I get this nightmare – wake up in a delightful pool of sweat, affirm to myself that it was just a bad dream and go to the main kitchen to get a glass of water and some blueberries. Tonight, said sweat was even more delightful than usual, so I decide to change out of my nightdress and into a fresh long-sleeved two-piece set. I rip off my silk headscarf in the process, allowing my hair to cascade down my back and breathe, before it starts reverting back to its curly state.

Feeling miles fresher, I finally make my way downstairs.

I choke out a gasp when I turn to enter the kitchen and see Milosh standing there, pouring milk into a bowl of bran flakes in the dim lighting.

Of course he likes bran flakes, they’re the blandest cereal out there.

‘Mr Petrov, you frightened me,’ I say, clutching my hand to my chest.

‘Apologies, Miss Green,’ he drawls, his voice deep and cold with indifference. He didn’t even so much as flinch when I rounded the corner. He just kept his eyes on the bowl as he continued to pour the milk.

As I walk to the fridge to get out what I need, I give him a once-over. He’s still wearing his black cargos and a black short-sleeve T-shirt, but his hair is now slightly tousled and messy, as if he’s been continuously running his hands through it.

I wonder what it would feel like to run my hands through it?

Yeah, no. We’re not doing that.

Shaking off that thought, I focus on looking for the blueberries.

‘What are you doing downstairs so late?’ I ask, my breath catching as he comes up behind me to return the milk to the fridge.

‘Couldn’t sleep, so I thought now would be a good time to look through the documents Mrs Harris gave me,’ he says, his arm brushing mine as he reaches past me to grab an apple. This close, all I can smell is him.

And it’s intoxicating.

Whatever fragrance he’s wearing is the perfect mix of freshness and pure masculinity, without trying too hard.

‘Why couldn’t you sleep? Is there something wrong with the bed?’

‘No. Just couldn’t sleep,’ he states as he returns to the pile of documents strewn across the island counter, apple in hand.

‘Oh, okay. Well, good.’ I close the fridge, grab a bowl and start sorting through the blueberries. ‘Does your work normally keep you up at night?’ I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

‘Depends,’ is his one word answer.

‘Depends on what?’

‘Whether I’m working military or… private.’

‘Which one do you prefer?’ I ask, moving over to the sink to rinse my fruit.

‘Both have pros and cons, but there seem to be a lot more perks with going private.’ I turn back to look at him only to find his eyes already on me.

‘Oh.’ I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a rush of heat throughout my body while the ghost of a smirk graces his lips as he looks back down at the paperwork in front of him.

‘Why were you crying?’ Milosh asks after a few moments have passed.

‘Pardon?’

‘Why. Were. You. Crying.’

‘Oh, um… My father and I had a little disagreement, that’s all.’ I smile sadly.

‘He made you cry?’

‘No, the situation made me cry,’ I correct, attempting to keep my expression soft. I’d rather not be talking about this right now. Least of all with a guy I only met yesterday.

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’ I ask, trying to keep my tone level, but failing when I hear a hint of exasperation slip through.

‘Why did the situation make you cry?’

I stop for a moment, trying to think of the best way to answer that question whilst still painting my father in a positive light. ‘Well, sometimes talking about my mother can unearth some pretty unpleasant emotions for my father.’

His eyes drink me in as he processes my answer. I turn my back to him and walk over to the cupboard to get a glass, only to find they’ve all been put on the highest shelf.

Of course they have.

Trying to make myself tall, I reach up but they’re still well out of my reach. All I wanted was to get some blueberries and water and go back to bed, why am I being punished?

‘Miss Green, what are you doing?’

I huff. ‘I’m trying to get a glass down.’

‘Stop it, you’re gonna hurt yourself.’ His bored tone at complete odds with his concerned words.

I turn around to look at him, his face suddenly vexing me. ‘Mr Petrov, if I could magically grow an inch I would, but I can’t, therefore I shan’t.’ I turn back around to face the cupboard and, after trying again, I settle on taking a mug off the bottom shelf instead. That’ll just have to do.

As I reach for it I feel a warmth envelop me and that distinct clean, masculine scent invading my nose. My gosh, he smells good.

So good.

I keep my eyes forward as Milosh reaches up with ease, my breath dipping when I feel his chest brushing against my back as he takes out the glass I was reaching for. He sets it down on the counter, but he doesn’t move. He lingers with his front still brushing my back as his arms cage me in.

‘Don’t let anyone speak to you that way again. Yes?’ he commands, voice low and authoritative. A set of unwanted goosebumps erupt across my skin when I feel his breath fan out against my neck, my eyelids closing as I revel in his closeness.

‘I’m sorry, what are you talking about?’ I breathe after a moment, my mind misty.

‘I don’t care if he’s your father, don’t let anyone shout at you. Do you understand me?’ All I can do is nod in response.

‘Good.’ He drops his arms and walks away as if nothing ever happened, while I try to collect myself, gather my things and make sense of it all.

‘G-goodnight, Mr Petrov,’ I say after filling up my glass and heading for the door.

‘Mmm,’ he hums in response, not looking up from his documents.

As I walk out of the kitchen, towards the stairs, I hear a shuffling sound coming from Daddy’s study. Why is everyone up so late tonight? I think, stopping short of the door. But as I reach for the handle the door swings open, revealing a tall man dressed head to toe in black.

‘Hi, princess,’ the man says, a sinister smirk spreading across his face.

‘I’m sorry, who are you, and what were you doing in my father’s study?’ I ask, looking around for a quick out if need be. I’m sure he’s a new member of staff that Amelia hasn’t introduced me to yet, but there’s something eerily familiar about him, and I just can’t shake the gnawing feeling that something isn’t quite right.

‘I’m the new night guard,’ he says, stuffing his leather-gloved hands into his pockets.

There are no new night guards. The only new security is Milosh. So why do I recognize him?

Then it clicks.

The buzz cut. The tall build. The short full beard. The gloved hands.

He’s the man from the CCTV footage.

He’s the man that broke into my father’s office at work.

My heart drops as he cocks his head, letting out a little chuckle.

‘You figured me out, huh, princess?’ I go to run, but he grabs me by my waist before I can get anywhere. ‘We can’t have you running off to call Daddy now, can we?’ he says, yanking me towards him.

The impact of my body crashing into his causes me to drop the mug and bowl. They smash, scattering berries, glass and ceramic fragments across the now-wet floor.

‘Now why’d you have to go and do that?’ he sneers, removing one arm from my waist and grabbing me by the neck, locking my head in his tight grip.

‘Please,’ I wheeze, the word barely audible. He wraps his other gigantic, suffocating arm around the back of my neck, securing the hold as I try to scratch at his eyes.

‘You can try all you like, princess, it ain’t gonna change a thing,’ he hisses.

My vision starts to blur as I open my mouth to scream, but fades away until all I see is black.