Chapter 25 Finn
twenty-five
Finn
I breathe a big fucking sigh of relief when we clear the gates to Rosie’s new home and another when they swing shut behind us.
I was comfortable acting as her only bodyguard between here and the airport because nobody was supposed to know where she was.
The risk was small, and I was prepared to manage it alone, but the image of two dozen paparazzi lying in wait at the place she’s supposed to be safest kicked my heart into my throat.
I’m pissed I wasn’t prepared. An NDA only goes so far, and I should have expected leaks. I tell myself it’s only for now and not forever, but I’m incapable of bullshit, even in my own head. This is it. This is Rosie’s life, which means it’s also mine.
At least soon I won’t have to ignore the urge to wrap her in my arms. It was hell keeping my hands to myself in that car when all I wanted was to hold her close.
None of this is new to her, I know, and she handled it like a pro, but I can’t stand the fact that she had to.
And I don’t want to be the one to remind her that her stalker could have been hiding in that crowd.
If it didn’t occur to Rosie at the time, there’s no point scaring her after the fact.
As we make our way along the crushed gravel driveway, a restored 1950s behemoth of a house, if you can call it that, complete with manicured gardens and a round driveway with a fountain in the middle, comes into view.
The entire property is unnaturally beautiful, wilderness tamed into something palatable for the suburbs, and when the car sweeps around to the front door, I’m the first to step out.
The driver is almost as quick, but I still reach Rosie’s door before he does.
He nods once before rounding the hood to open the passenger side for Pia.
Stationed outside the open double front doors is the senior member of Rosie’s new security team, a burly guy with ten years on me who I recognize from his application profile picture as John.
I spoke to Drew when we landed to let him in on Pia’s plan and he called ahead to tell the team.
That means of the nine staff with access to the house over any twenty-four period, Drew’s protection personnel are the only ones aware of my personal relationship with their client, and they’ve been instructed to keep that information confidential.
John and I exchange professional nods as I lead Rosie inside. “Miss Thorne,” he says with an outstretched hand. “I’m John, your new lead security officer.”
Rosie gives his hand a strong shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. The property is secure, and you should feel comfortable moving about,” he reports. “Would you like a full briefing now or after you’ve settled in?”
Rosie glances at me, but I want her to make the call. She considers it for a moment, then says, “Finn can tell me what I need to know later. I’ll let you two get acquainted while I finalize a few things with Pia.”
John inclines his head, and we follow him deeper into the house.
Inside, the place is hard to believe, a display of extreme wealth and refined tastes.
Lush carpets and layered rugs, open fireplaces and libraries of books, large windows and crystal chandeliers.
At first impression, the only thing I like about it is the art, but when Rosie’s eyes light up at the grand piano in one of the living spaces, I decide I like that too.
“The residence is secure,” John says when we reach the kitchen, Rosie and Pia on the other side of the opulent adjoining dining room.
“We arrived yesterday to evaluate surveillance capabilities and assess potential risks. As far as private security systems go, we can’t ask for better.
The property is fitted with CCTV at all entry points to the house as well as external perimeters. ”
“Is there a control room?” At John’s nod, I add, “I’ll need to see that later today. What else?”
If John’s confused about seniority here or my assuming the lead, he doesn’t show it. “Marissa, Jarrod, Tareq, and I are operating in four shifts: screen monitoring, property patrol, personal client security, and rest. Drew says you’re retaining the role of bodyguard?”
“That’s right, so whoever’s working personal security can help with property patrol unless they’re required for travel. Next?”
“There’s a fashion designer and his assistant in the guest wing,” he says. “They had an appointment, and we confirmed IDs against the approved list. Bags also checked. No red flags.”
“Noted. Thank you.” I glance toward Rosie and Pia, oblivious to this conversation, but drop my voice anyway.
“I don’t need to remind you that Rosalie’s stalker could be anywhere, including LA, so I’ll accept nothing less than meticulous attention to detail.
Bring any unusual activity to me immediately, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. Understood?”
He defers with a swift nod, and the fist around my heart loosens slightly. I appreciate that Drew has already driven home the gravity of Rosie’s situation, and with a full team in place, I take the first full breath since Rosie told me she was ready to leave Silver Leaf.
John and I make our way over to Rosie, and I mirror his professionalism. As long as I’m responsible for Rosie’s personal safety, I’m going to do the job right, no matter how hard it is. One wrong choice when it doesn’t matter could easily be one wrong choice when it does.
“Your afternoon appointment is waiting in the guest wing,” I tell them. “John can take us there when you’re ready.”
Rosie casts me a kittenish look, glancing up underneath her lashes. “Thank you, Finn.”
I’m good at not smiling when I don’t want to, but it’s never been this hard to keep a straight face—or my hands to myself. “You’re welcome, Miss Thorne.”
We follow John along wide halls and across a covered courtyard to a self-contained part of the house with three enormous bedrooms and two full baths.
On the other side of a white-painted door is a king-size suite with a four-poster bed, extra-wide stand mirror, and a man dressed top to toe in well-fitted black, his long hair slicked back and gray at the temples, his forehead smooth and lashes dark.
He’s fussing with fabrics flung over the bed, a younger guy at his side shifting and rearranging things as directed, but he glances up at our arrival, and his eyes grow bright.
“Mio passerotto,” he exclaims with his arms flung open. “It is so good to see you.”
Rosie takes two steps in his direction, but mine are longer.
“Finn,” she says, setting a gentle hand on my arm when I block her way. “Marco and I are old friends.”
She darts around me and into the old guy’s embrace, and he hugs her with an amused look for me over her blonde head.
“New bodyguard?” he asks dryly.
“Not exactly,” Rosie replies lightly as she moves back a few steps. “Finn worked for me on tour. He’s recently returned.”
“Ah.” Marco presses a finger to the side of his nose. “Part of the spring clean?”
“The spring clean?” she asks, then grimaces. “You mean the breakup with Chip. What have you heard?”
He waves a hand at Rosie’s clothes with eccentric flair. “Strip, darling, and let me see you. We’ll talk while I measure that gorgeous little figure of yours.”
I scowl as Rosie peels off her skirt and tank, sending a little extra heat in the direction of the designer’s beady-eyed assistant who drops his eyes and scurries for the measuring tape.
I keep scowling as Rosie, wearing nothing but a thin lace bra and panties, steps onto a small dais arranged in front of the mirrors.
I know it’s ridiculous and she’s only doing her job, but nobody’s ever more vulnerable than when they’re naked around strangers, and I’m uncomfortable with any hint of Rosie’s fragility right now.
“You are glowing, darling,” Marco gushes as he circles Rosie with a discerning eye.
“I have never seen your skin so fresh. Where have you been these last three weeks? I couldn’t get hold of your team when you missed your fitting for the benefit concert next month, but you must have been having lots of fun to forget all about me and then show up today with a face as pretty as this.
” He gasps and smacks his cheek. “Have you had one of those ponytail face lifts? Is that why you’ve been missing for weeks?
Oh, that’s so smart. Get in while you’re young before all that skin has a chance to sag. ”
The guy’s a tool, and I grit my teeth so I don’t accidentally say so.
Rosie meets my eye in the mirror, then dips her chin with a blush. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Marco, but any glow you think you see is thanks to three weeks of rest, lots of spring sunshine, and loads of water.”
I smirk to myself. And multiple orgasms.
Marco snorts as he clicks his fingers for the measuring tape, which his assistant places in his open palm. “Three weeks off? I can hardly afford that now, can I?” He winks at Rosie. “So, you’re no longer engaged, my love?”
Rosie lifts her chin while Marco loops the tape around her thighs, snapping numbers to the assistant who scribbles them down. “No, I’m not.”
“Good. I can stop holding a grudge that you chose a nobody to design your wedding gown instead of me.”
I growl, then turn it into a cough when all eyes in the room turn on me.
“Give it a rest, Marco,” Rosie says. “You know I love you.”
“Hm. Maybe, but not Chip, eh?”
I’m this close to telling this guy to back off when Rosie plants her fists on her hips. “What have you heard?”
“Everything, darling. You know that.” At Rosie’s exasperated sigh, he rolls his eyes, but by the smile on his face, I’d bet he’s loving every minute of this. The tape goes around Rosie’s waist. “Okay, fine. But you didn’t learn this from me.”