His Prologue
HIS PROLOGUE
Don’t mix business with pleasure.
It’s my one golden rule. A hard line I abide by.
But as I stare across the office at the blue-eyed goddess in front of me, I’m tempted.
No. Tempted isn’t a strong enough word.
I’m compelled.
I’m compelled to sweep her notepad to the floor, to taste those luscious red lips, and to wrap my fist in those long blonde curls as I lower her to her desk. My hand twitches, aches to feel the softness of her skin, to caress the curves of her body.
But I’m not a weak-willed man.
I don’t act on compulsions, no matter how strong.
I act according to what’s right. What I need.
And what I need is to focus, to nab this job that could be the golden ticket for the men and women I employ.
“Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Blackwell,” Ivy Carmichael says in a sensual voice as she stands and strides around her desk, offering her hand to shake.
Her skin is soft, like the finest satin sheets, and a frisson of lust jolts through me as I imagine what being between her sheets would be like.
Exactly what I shouldn’t be thinking.
I’m here for business.
“The pleasure’s mine,” I reply with a too-easy smile. “And please, call me Callum.”
“Callum,” she says, releasing my hand, and my name has never sounded so damn provocative. She gestures to the seat in front of me. “Please, sit down.”
I ease into the office chair as she moves back behind her desk. To my right, a large window beckons, showcasing the glitz and glamour of the Strip far below. “Great view.”
“It is. My parents were lucky to secure this prime piece of real estate when they opened the casino.” A note of wistfulness enters her voice.
“I was sorry to hear about their passing,” I offer.
“You knew them?”
“No. But when you asked to set up this meeting, I did my research.” I always do my research, and the story of the twins who’d become hotel proprietors overnight about two years ago had been easy to gather intel on.
It should have also warned me how beautiful I’d find Ivy Carmichael—but photos on the Internet simply failed to do her justice.
She crosses one long leg over the other, all business as she meets my gaze.
“I appreciate you meeting with me. I’m looking for someone, or a team of someones, really, who can provide security detail for me around the clock.
They need to be able to act on a moment’s notice, but also be discreet.
I don’t want patrons in The Extravagant to think there’s a need for extensive security here, or that this is the sort of place where they have to check over their shoulder before pulling out their credit cards. ”
I nod, understanding her implicitly. “You want someone who’s subtle, but skilled. Who won’t take their eyes off you.”
“Yes.” And her blue eyes gleam. “I want attention to detail without the bells and whistles. And honestly, I’m not anticipating that this will be a high-pressure job.
” She glances to the closed door of her office then back to me.
“In the few years I’ve been looking after the image of the hotel, there’s only been one time that I’ve really needed protection. ”
“And what exactly did that entail?” I frown, leaning forward. Of course, I know already. Like I said—I do my research. But I want to hear it from her.
She bites her plump red lower lip. “Can I trust you, Callum?”
I don’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
“This isn’t public knowledge. We kept it from the media.
I don’t want word of this getting out in case it affects the hotel’s reputation.
” She glances to the window, the lights of the Strip flickering on as day turns to the seductive hour of dusk.
“I had a stalker. I didn’t think much of it, to be honest—just a few notes and emails at first. Nothing, really. ”
“That’s not nothing.” I frown.
“I know that now.” She grips the pen on her desk so hard the whites of her knuckles show through. “Contact escalated. More notes. Some phone calls. And he ended up rushing me last week as I waited at the elevator bank.”
“That should never happen.” My blood boils, turns to lava as vulnerability flashes in her eyes.
“It’s fine now. He was there for a few minutes, ranting in my face, before he was escorted out and arrested.
He said some things about me, about my parents—things he couldn’t have known unless he’d been following me for a while.
” Her voice recites the fact as if she’s reading it from a list, but I don’t miss the tremble in her hand or the aversion of her gaze, as if she’s ashamed she let things get that far.
I seethe at the thought of anyone putting that look in her eyes, at the prospect of someone getting near her, scaring her. All my protective instincts kick into high gear. So does my need to reassure her.
I lean across the desk and inject every ounce of sincerity I can into my words. “That wasn’t your fault.”
She stills, her big blue eyes on mine. “I know. It was his—his and the security firm I’d hired before. They shouldn’t have let him get that close.”
She’d had security, and they’d just let that happen?
Not on my watch.
That would never have happened on my watch.
And I know I can’t know that for sure—but another compulsion takes hold of me, one I’m all too eager to indulge. “If you hire my firm, I’ll personally make sure I’m the one with you for the majority of the time. And I’ll never, ever let anything like that happen again.”