2. Viktoria
2
VIKTORIA
“ I can’t believe Father changed the schedule without consulting me,” I spat, clutching my phone so tight it dug into my palm. I’d been sitting in the parked car at the regional airport for the last thirty minutes, waiting for a boarding call that never came. “I worked around the clock to get this deal off the ground. I have the right to be there to finish what I started.”
“You know how he gets,” Katrin said, my best friend since we were eight years old. “Parents, right? Grow up all you want, you’re still their little girl.”
Katrin was right—she always was—but I kept seething. “He has to stop treating me like a child.”
“He will,” Katrin said. “My father was the same when I started working for him. You have to take what’s yours. Show him what you can do.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing.” I banged my head against the headrest. At thirty years old, I’d finally become what my father needed me to be—a valuable asset, smart and savvy. Everything Katrin was, seemingly without effort. “This was supposed to be my time to shine. My way of showing Father and the rest of the world I have what it takes to step into his shoes when he retires.” I massaged my aching temples. “ I did all the work, building up the new division. I did the profit-and-loss projections for the next ten years. I proved we have to diversify to stay healthy and profitable. I did the research. I found the right market to expand into. I set up the trade negotiations in the US. Do you think this is Father punishing me for the Marks deal going sour?”
“That was over a year ago,” Katrin said. “And you came damn close with Marks. If I were your father, I’d be nothing but proud.” Katrin’s sigh reverberated down the line. “Did he tell you why he left for Chicago without you?”
“Not really,” I said. I leaned on the window. Various vehicles bustled around the tarmac, servicing the private jet sitting a hundred feet to my right. The jet I should already be on—what was the delay? “He said something about making me less of a target.”
“Have there been threats?” Katrin’s voice sharpened, heavy with concern.
“None that I know of.” I watched the nozzle of a fuel hose snap into the plane. “At least he couldn’t cut me out completely. That would send the wrong message after all the groundwork I’ve already done.” I sighed. “I’ll be there for the final negotiations in New York in two days, but I won’t be attending any of the public or high-profile events. You know, the ones where I should be networking and getting recognition for what I’ve done.”
“Men never understand that,” Katrin said. “How important it is to see and be seen. To build those relationships outside the boardroom.”
I glanced at my watch, frustration mounting. Shouldn’t my security be here by now—the guys from Elite? Why were security companies always Executive or Elite? Or something medieval-sounding, Paladin. Citadel.
Katrin hadn’t stopped talking. “Still, I love New York. It’s hard to get bored there, with all that night life.”
I grimaced. I didn’t know how Katrin made it all look so easy, gliding through life like some silk-draped swan. Katrin fit in everywhere without trying at all—nightclubs, old boys’ clubs, any place, any crowd. Charming, Father had called her, making me wilt. Was I not charming? Could I not command a room?
I had run myself ragged, racing to catch up. I’d rocketed through grad school, earning PhDs in business and economics. In my spare time, I’d studied dance, acting, art, learning to be graceful, poised, erudite. Perfect, or close to it…and still so far behind. Katrin had skipped grad school and gone straight to work. Taken her place as her father’s right hand. Everything I dreamed of and hadn’t attained.
“Night life,” I muttered, almost to myself. I hadn’t seen much of that, even in college. Constant fear of ending up in the tabloids kept me on the straight and narrow. One bad photo or social media post could lay waste to my future, not to mention Father’s reputation. Within Iceland’s borders, we were well-protected—from attacks and from paparazzi—but out in the wider world, it was open season.
“Oh,” Katrin chirped. “Looks like duty’s calling—I’ve got to go. Keep me posted, okay? Maybe we’ll meet up in New York.”
I hung up and plucked my tablet off the seat. Though I hadn’t wanted to say anything to Katrin, I suspected my father hadn’t given me the whole picture. He had to be hiding something, some threat against me, else why travel separately from me, meaning we had to pay for two jets instead of just one? Why all the secrecy and the new bodyguards?
Jabbing the touchscreen, I went to open my e-mail, but an error message popped up—no signal.
Of all the…grrrrr .
I grabbed for my phone again, but I had no one to call. My assistant, Aleta, had developed a sinus infection last night. Of all the damned inconvenient timing. I needed my assistant, but I wasn’t a monster. I could fend for myself until Aleta’s condition cleared up. Certainly, Aleta was in no shape to fly, leaving me on my own—except for the bodyguards. The still absent bodyguards.
I glanced at my watch again, then peered out the window. These new bodyguards better be strong, silent types…with the emphasis on silent. I had so much to do, and?—
My breath caught. Whoa. I stared at the man striding across the tarmac, shameless behind the tinted windows. He was pure man candy, sex in a can, black T-shirt stretched across rippling pecs. His bare arms glistened in the hot August sun. Loose-fitting jeans couldn’t hide his strong thighs—this man hadn’t skipped leg day in years, maybe ever. Dark glasses hid his eyes, but the rest of his face was a superhero dream, handsome and chiseled, with a faint scruff of stubble.
Licking my lips, I fought the urge to lower the window. Rein it in, Viktoria . But I couldn’t tear my eyes off him. Everything about the man screamed lethal intent and danger. The sexy kind. Maybe the real kind. A shiver stole down my spine, and I absently rubbed the rising hair on my arms. The way he moved, prowled , spoke of vast experience or intense training.
My imagination kicked in. Maybe he was a secret agent, sent to abduct me and force me to talk. So many delicious, naughty ways he’d pump (into) me for information?—
The loud beeping of a vehicle in reverse shattered my fantasy. I squirmed, hot with embarrassment and repressed lust. Pulling back from the window, I refocused my gaze, startled to find the man only feet from the limo. He’d closed the distance in the blink of an eye, and so smoothly I’d hardly noticed. Gorgeous as he was, a sliver of unease stole through me. All that speculation about being a target had made me jumpy. Slapping the intercom button, I warned the driver, “Lock the doors.”
The locks clicked down and I exhaled. Not a moment too soon. The unsettling man bent to talk to the driver. Just as I was about to crack the barrier between the front and back, the locks clicked again.
What the ? —?
The door beside me swung open, letting in the warm air and gasoline fumes. The man leaned in, holding out his ID.
“Lee McCallister,” he said. “I’m with Elite Security Services. You should’ve gotten my text.”
“Your—” I sat straighter, scowling through my surprise. I couldn’t let this man see me sweat.
“Check your phone,” Lee said.
I checked it. Lee’s text was there—short and to the point. I checked his number, and it matched the file I’d been given. His picture matched, too, though it hadn’t captured his sheer physical presence, which was why I hadn’t made the connection.
“So? Are we good?” He eased into the limo, too close for comfort. I jerked back on instinct.
“I beg your pardon. I don’t recall inviting you in.” I yanked my feet out of the way. Lee cocked a brow.
“I mean, I could debrief you from the tarmac, but you’d just end up with a crick in your neck.” He slammed the door behind him and stretched out his legs. All the air in the limo seemed to ripple around him, and the formerly roomy car began to feel like a compact. He twisted to face me, leaning into my space. And making no apologies for it either. With only inches between our knees, he stilled, his gaze doing a slow tour of my form, from my cheeks, flushed hot, to the four-inch Prada sandals on my pedicured feet.
I felt suddenly aware of my body, the taut press of my nipples against my lace bra, the heat of my skin, the hitch in my breath. The slide of the hem of my Carolina Herrera sheath dress inching up my thigh. I brought up my arms and crossed them over my chest. Lee raised his sunglasses, and I gasped. He had cat’s eyes in a vibrant shade of amber. Those eyes locked on mine, and my heart skipped a beat. I’d never seen eyes like that, so fierce, so bright, brown and yellow striations radiating from the pupils. Coupled with the scruff clinging to his jaw, he looked positively feral.
I realized he was talking, his deep, rich voice caressing me like a lover. Or the purr of a jungle cat, almost a growl. I swallowed hard.
Get it together. He’s just a man.
He smirked. “Did you hear a word I just said?” Those gorgeous eyes sparkled with something like mischief.
“I heard you,” I lied. I needed to take back control. I made a show of studying him from head to toe, as he’d done with me. His boots were dirty, and I let my lip curl. His jeans were faded, his shirt worn thin. I also couldn’t help noticing that his biceps were magnificent, his torso drum-tight. I cleared my throat. “You cannot be my bodyguard,” I snapped, and drew myself up. “My security is always impeccably dressed.” I motioned to his body, my silver and gold bangles clinking with the movement. “This is completely unacceptable and unprofessional.”
“For a cross-country trip?” Lee looked amused. “Who’s going to see me? I’m dressed for ease of movement, not to be easy on your eyes.”
“What? That’s not—” I felt my ears turning red. “If you can’t dress appropriately, you won’t be accompanying me on this trip.” I swiped my phone awake. “I need the name of your supervisor. This is a disgrace.”
“It’s Sebastian McKinney,” Lee said. “I’ll step out while you talk.” He did just that, leaving me to gape after him.
I didn’t want to call Sebastian McKinney. Truth was, I didn’t care much what Lee chose to wear. He was right—no one would see him at forty thousand feet. But now I’d have to call, or Lee would know I’d just been trying to put him in his place.
Feeling petty, I dialed. McKinney answered, and I let him talk me into respecting Lee’s choice of outfit. When I hung up, I knocked on the window, and Lee got back in. I smelled his soap as he sat—a clean, woodsy fragrance. Manly, I thought, and a shiver ran through me.
“I need you to trust me,” he said. “There might come a time when I’ll give you an order, and you following that order will mean life or death. You gonna have problems taking orders from me?” He turned toward me, as though presenting himself for inspection.
I swallowed hard and tried not to stare.
“If you’ve got issues,” he pressed, “let’s deal with them now. Come on, hit me. What’ve you got?”
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. Was he making fun of me? “I’m fine,” I said. “But I need you to understand you work for me.”
“I work for your father,” Lee said—and was that a smirk? He was enjoying this, the smug SOB. I grabbed my tablet and sat up a little straighter.
“Well, whoever you’re working for, it’s time you got started. I’ve got a plane to board, so you can?—”
“Not yet,” he said. “I have a few things to sort out with my team. I’ll come back and get you when I’m ready for you to board.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I jabbed a finger in his handsome face. “I’ve been waiting in this limo for a half an hour already. I’m boarding the plane now. I have too much to do?—”
“As I said,” he retorted, his low, icy tone effectively silencing me. “I need you to trust me. Now, I’m asking again, do we have a problem?”
“No, but why?—”
Lee leaned forward, crowding into my space. “I promised your father I’d bring you to him safe. You going to make a liar of me, or do I have your trust?”
My jaw dropped and I sputtered, my words tripping over themselves to be heard first. How dare he, this asshole ! Trust was earned, not demanded. I’d earned the right to be treated with respect, not dictated to like a child. I knew he had a job to do, and I had no intention of getting in the way of any safety measures, but I’d bet anything he wouldn’t use that kind of tone with my father.
But before I could respond, he’d climbed out of the vehicle. I sat glaring at his retreating back, my nostrils flaring with every inhale.
“You’ve bullied the wrong woman, Lee McCallister. Just wait, and I’ll show you who’s in charge.”