Chapter Three
T he owner of the security firm came out of the office first, followed by the man in the online videos. The dark, grainy footage had not done him justice. He was even bigger in person and much, much more attractive.
His blue eyes were framed by eyelashes any woman would kill for, but it wasn’t just his eyes or his chiseled features that reminded me of the commissioned statues meant to pay homage to Michelangelo back home, it was his whole presence.
He’d given me a subdued smile when he’d arrived, but even that small expression spoke of a man who loved life and loved what he did. Despite the wealth surrounding me growing up and the work I did now, I did not know many happy people.
Refraining from an unladylike sigh, I focused back on the task at hand and made eye contact with André Luna. “Do you have a decision?”
“We have two conditions,” he countered.
Damian took his place next to his boss. Feet slightly apart, hands clasped in front of him, shoulders wide and proud, his gaze focused intently on me.
“Which are?” None of my security details over the years had ever looked at me as intently as Damian did. In fact, I could not ever remember any man looking at me how the bodyguard was staring at me. Like he could read my every thought… like he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for me. The protectiveness in his stance, the dominance of it, it was not something that should’ve been making my stomach flutter, especially considering the latest letter, but it was .
With a grave expression, Mr. Luna crossed his arms. “Two more men accompany you and Tyler to the event.”
“Absolutely not—”
Luna held his hand up. “Nonnegotiable. Tyler goes in with backup or he doesn’t go in at all.”
I refrained from glaring at him, just barely. “And the second?”
“If anything, and I do mean anything, goes south, Tyler gets out. It’s up to him whether he takes you with him. If you get kidnapped, we are not making any promises of retrieval.”
My stomach dropped at kidnapped and retrieval , but I forced down the fear. “This is an art opening, not some—” I started to explain, but the security company owner cut me off, again.
“We both know you’re not being honest about why you need personal security at your event. If I wasn’t neck-deep in paying clients who legitimately need my attention for matters of personal protection right now, then I might waste my time trying to flush out what you’re hiding. But I am, so I won’t. I’m going to leave that up to Tyler’s discretion. Contract terms remain the same per our earlier discussion, but two more men at the billable rate we discussed will apply. They will show three hours prior to the event to assess the potential security threats and give you an evaluation. If you don’t have any other questions, I’ll e-mail you the contract to sign, and Tyler will be at your place tomorrow.”
Stress and irritation flaring, I snapped words back at him that made me sound like a spoiled teenager. “I need him now.” I stupidly glanced at the man who was too handsome for his own good.
“For?” André asked, sounding even more tired and irritated than me.
“As I said, he needs to be fitted. He needs a tuxedo. My tailor is already waiting.”And I was too nervous to be without security, especially after this morning.
“He has one,” André countered.
Damian smiled lazily. “I know how to dress myself, Princess. Don’t worry, I’m not going to embarrass you.”
I fought from growling in frustration and addressed Damian. “This is my event, and I am paying you, heftily I might add, for your services. This is a black-tie event. I will provide the wardrobe. That is nonnegotiable.” Throwing his boss’s words right back at him, I didn’t bother to hide my irritation either. If Damian was to pass as my date, he needed to look the part, right down to the ridiculously large size of his shoes.
André’s hands went to his hips, where one settled on the gun he had in a holster there. “With all due respect, Princess, I’m going to remind you that I run a professional personal security firm. My men are all military trained with combat experience. They are not toys you dress up and parade around at social events. Furthermore, let me be crystal clear so there is no misunderstanding. You are hiring my firm to provide expert security for you and your jewelry. That is it. You are not hiring a dance partner. You get me?”
“He can’t”—I waved my hand through the air like a commoner—“stand around me with his gun hanging from his belt, smirking and winking.” No one would believe he was with me, let alone my date. The letter writer would not buy it, and that would be disastrous.
“I assure you, Tyler will blend in.”
“Yes, he will,” I snapped, giving up on decorum. “When he is in a proper tuxedo, by my side.” Pretending to be my fiancé. I did not think I could stoop lower. But I needed the letters to stop, and this was the best idea I could come up with on short notice. If the letter writer thought I was engaged, then maybe he would finally leave me alone.
André glanced at Damian. “Your call.”
The man winked, winked at me. “New tuxedo it is.” He smiled. “As long as I get to keep it.”
My mouth opened, then snapped shut. “Who else would keep it?”
André nodded once. “Then it’s settled.” He glanced at Damian. “Get her back to her security detail safely. I’ll handle the contract.” He fished keys out of his pocket. “Escalade’s in the usual spot, geared up.”
“Ten-four.” Damian took the keys and gave André his in return. “Be careful with the Camaro.”
They both ignored me .
André stepped across the threshold. “I’ll be as careful as you were with the first Escalade. Lock up when you leave. The code’s the same as the office.”
Damian chuckled easily. “Copy that.”
Luna left, shutting the door behind him, leaving me and Damian alone.
The smile still on his face, Damian turned to me. “Fitting?”
“What happened to the first Escalade?” I had no business asking. I wasn’t here to make small talk, nor breed familiarity.
His expression instantly turned serious. “Nothing to worry about.”
I crossed my arms. “If I am going to get in a vehicle with you, I need to know,” I lied.
His gaze raked over my chest, taking in my crossed arms, then traveled back to my face. But this time, his expression was neither carefree nor serious. It was… professional.
“You tell me why I’m really here, and I’ll tell you what happened to the first company car I drove.”
The black cargo pants, the neatly pressed black company polo shirt, his polished boots, the gun at his waist—it suddenly occurred to me that the man I’d happened to see on the Internet when I’d googled security firms was much more than a pretty face with more muscle than common sense. And I stupidly, dangerously, wanted to know what had happened to a vehicle he’d been driving.
“I need an escort for the event,” I blurted, leaving out the why of it. I couldn’t tell him about the letters. The letter writer had explicitly forbidden it. He had said there would be consequences to the people around me if I told anyone, then he’d made an aside about my assistant. I couldn’t risk her safety. I wouldn’t. If I did, I did not deserve to call myself a Spiros, let alone a princess.
My mother had taught me to never falter in the face of opposition or threats. Not that I thought I would ever need that advice, but here I was, almost twenty years later, wishing I had paid more attention to her when I was a young girl. She had been so beautiful, but her beauty hadn’t been her greatest gift, her wisdom was. I missed her dearly.
Damian raised an eyebrow. “Escort?”
“Companion,” I corrected, not making it sound any better.
“ Companion ,” he repeated, looking like he was holding back laughter.
I fought from closing my eyes in embarrassment and forced words out that made me sound as pathetic as I was. “A plus one, a date, a man to accompany me.” A c onvincing man. Who looked madly in love with me. “Do you think you can manage that?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He grinned. “I can manage that and a whole lot more.”
The smile lit up his entire already-too-handsome face, and for the first time in my life, I understood the expression, weak in the knees.
Struggling to form words, I cleared my throat. “Manners, polite conversation, and attentiveness are all I require.”
His smile instantly dropped, and a shrewd look flashed across his face before he shut his expression down. “No priceless jewel guarding?”
I never should’ve dismissed his handsome features for ignorance. “That is a given,” I added, trying to recover.
He stared at me a moment. “Why do you really need a date?”
A flutter in my chest at hearing him say date made me almost slip and tell him about the letters and my ridiculous plan. “I am concerned about the after-party at my home,” I admitted. “I do not want any incidents.” The letter writer said he’d be in attendance. Acknowledging my fears was not the act of a brave woman, nor was it how I was raised. But being in the presence of this disarming bodyguard was disrupting my equilibrium almost more than the stalker.
His head cocked slightly to the side as he watched me intently. “You don’t feel safe at your house.”
It was not a question, but had it been, I would not have answered it.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he slowly drawled in his American accent .
“We are getting nowhere standing here,” I corrected. “We need to get to the fitting. The tailor is waiting at my home.”
His eyebrows drew together. “How did you slip your security detail?”
“Who says I have one?” I evaded.
“Your family makes a hundred million a week on the casinos in your country. You have a security detail,” he said confidently.
“Maybe I don’t need one in America,” I clipped, because the subject matter disgusted me.
My security detail was a joke. My father’s old guard, too old to effectively be his security anymore, but not close enough to the grave to retire, had been sent with me to America. Nikolas was next to useless, had more attitude than my stepmother, and he’d been milking the payroll of my family’s good fortune ever since we’d gotten here.
He barely remembered his duties extended beyond the front gate of my house, and even that he couldn’t keep secure enough to stop someone from entering. The letters had been showing up outside my home office for weeks, but yesterday the letter was outside my bedroom door.
Still assessing me, the bodyguard scratched his chin. Then he abruptly changed the subject. “The after-party is at your house?” he asked, emphasizing your .
“Yes.” My house, where anyone could walk in, including the letter writer.
He frowned. “You live in the States.”
Again, it wasn’t a question, but this one I answered. “Yes.”
His frown deepened. “How?”
“Excuse me?”
“You live here, you own property here. Are immigration laws different when you’re a rich princess from a country I’ve never heard of?”
I was not surprised he had never heard of Naximos. Most hadn’t, unless you were part of what the Americans called the jet set .
“My mother was American. I have dual citizenship.” I did not know why I was telling him this, except being alone with him and his clean scent that was devoid of the heavy cologne most men I knew wore was disarming.
“Interesting,” he said slowly.
Breaking eye contact and giving myself a mental shake, I got back to the business at hand. “We need to leave now.” I picked up my purse. “Are you driving, or shall I?”
He gave me a smile that I was sure made women fall at his feet. “You don’t want to know about the first Escalade?”
“No, I do not.” Lying, about everything, I walked to the door. “I will drive.”