4. Anastasia
Anastasia
B eing told my new guard has arrived and I’m supposed to greet him, I purposely take my time getting ready after my long gym session of letting my anger out on the treadmill and the punching bag. It’s close to my favorite method of releasing the emotions that always run too high within me.
The idea I have to be followed by a guard everywhere I go beyond this house is as ridiculous today as it was a week ago when my father dropped the news.
Not to be negotiated.
I tie my hair in a high ponytail with the front sections loose.
Then I dress in a red bodysuit with tailored, high-waisted, slim-leg black pants.
I opt for flats. All I’m supposed to do is show him around the house and to his room, which is annoyingly opposite mine.
Planning to ditch him afterward to go to a pre-semester mixer, I slip what I need into my pockets—things like my cell, some money, and of course the red lipstick I’m wearing, which is sure to need topping up after a few drinks.
Making my way leisurely to my father’s office, I smile to myself, hoping my tardiness makes Victor Ross irritable from the start. If I have to endure this, I can at least have a little fun.
I hear his voice in conversation with my father as I approach, and though I’ve only met him once, it sounds different from what I remember.
I knock before entering, and both stop their conversation as I do.
The agent has his back to me, but he is most definitely not Victor.
The dark hair I expected to find is such a light shade of blond it’s almost white.
He stands from the chair opposite my father to turn to me and I find myself staring at the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Seriously, who looks like that and ends up standing across from some senator’s adult daughter as her bodyguard?
He wears all black. Even his shirt beneath his suit, his watch, his cufflinks—everything solid black, making his hair even more of a stark contrast.
His eyes are an icy blue and his facial structure is sharp, making him appear lethal, yet so damn attractive he feels like a trap.
The final edge that tips him closer to dangerous is the scar that starts on his right temple, hidden by a curl of silver and trailing a jagged line that breaks off into two, one scar narrowly missing his eye and the other continuing to the hollow of his cheek.
“Anastasia, I’d like you to meet Agent Rhett Kaiser, your personal guard for the next six months.” My dad introduces us. “Agent Kaiser, this is my daughter, Anastasia Kinsley.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Rhett extends his hand, but I’m delayed in my confusion and distraction at the deep, entrancing voice.
My hand slips into his, tingling with warmth, and I realize we haven’t stopped looking at each other since I entered.
I pull out of his firm grip, snapping myself out of my stupor to cast my father a frown. “What happened to Agent Ross?”
My father grimaces. “Unfortunately, he was involved in a fatal accident just a few days ago. We’ll be sending our condolences to the family. He was a great man.”
I don’t know why my gaze shifts to Rhett at the news.
His face is near impossible to read, a perfect sculpture of cool indifference, but his hands ball into fists—only for a single tight flex before he relaxes.
When he looks my way I quickly avert my gaze, not knowing what it is about him that’s kind of frightening.
But not in the way I thought he could hurt me.
“It’s just as well Agent Kaiser came highly recommended and was available for immediate placement. He’s been very eager to meet you.”
My spine stiffens. I guess taking the role of babysitting me in my boring postgrad university life is an easy payout for anyone. It’s no wonder he was eager to take it.
“Right, well, can we get this tour over with?” I sigh. I want to get away as soon as possible, not understanding my nerves around this man. Unlike when I met Victor Ross, I’m intrigued by Rhett, and perhaps that’s what scares me.
“You’ll have to excuse my daughter. She can be ... spirited,” my father says with a warning look.
I don’t hide my displeasure.
“A fiery spirit should never be excused,” Rhett says.
My sour expression relaxes at the unexpected comment.
“Anastasia will show you around, Agent. I look forward to seeing you again at dinner this evening to discuss more.”
That was our cue to leave, which I take eagerly before my dad reads the guilt on my face. I don’t plan to make it back in time for that dinner.
I become hyperaware of Rhett trailing me closely—too close.
“You’re already taking this personal guard thing a bit too literally,” I say.
“How many paces should you like me to stand, Miss Kinsley?”
The way he addresses me breaks a shiver. The title, the low tone he speaks in. Is he trying to be seductive?
I cut him with a warning look regardless, at which a smile hints at the corner of his mouth.
Deviant asshole.
“At least three,” I say.
“Of your leg span or mine?”
Considering the height of him, I don’t have to look lower to gauge how much bigger his strides are compared to mine when I only meet his shoulder.
I stop walking to face him, folding my arms with the irritation he’s stirring already.
“Did you really just use a cheap excuse to look at my legs?”
“My eyes have been trained on yours the whole time. I don’t need an excuse. It’s my job to ensure every part of you”—to make his point, his blue gaze slips down my body, and I damn myself for the disruption in my stomach at that slow assessment—“remains intact.”
“You’re to keep those eyes on the invisible, nonexistent threats around me, not on me, Agent.”
“On you, around you—my full focus is entirely yours.”
He’s making my goal of trying to drive him to quit easy. It’s like a silent challenge sparked between us just now. I smile sweetly, pushing down the unwelcome giddiness in me before turning into the next hall, not bothering to account for him keeping up.
I point and explain all of the main rooms: games room, cinema, pool, gym, dining room, kitchen. He barely gets a glance at any of them before I’m moving on, but much to my ire he doesn’t seem fazed by my lack of enthusiasm for him or the tour.
We get to our rooms, and I awkwardly stand outside mine and cast a hand behind him.
“That’s your room,” I explain to his patient, calm stance.
“Aren’t you going to show me inside?”
“I think you’re capable of figuring out a room on your own. There’s a bed, and you have your own bathroom.”
Rhett has this annoyingly devious look about him that always seems to be debating if he should incite argument out of nothing more than amusement.
“Give me your phone,” he says, holding out his palm.
“What? No.”
“I need to place my number inside, just in case.”
My jaw locks in defiance, but I decide it isn’t worth being petty. I fish it out of my pocket, unlocking it before I hand it over.
He taps for a few seconds longer than I think necessary, and I come close to snatching it back.
“So, this is what you didn’t want me to see?—”
I do reach then, nearly grabbing his whole hand and pulling him to my chest too when I rip the phone back.
The screen only displays his new contact info.
“Now I’m really curious as to what you’re hiding in there,” he muses.
“Nothing,” I snap.
Rhett’s barely-there smile is becoming a trigger to my volatile thoughts. He dips a hand into his pants pocket before unlocking his phone and handing it out to me.
“If you will, please,” he says at my hesitation.
It’s open on the dial screen.
I take his phone with more reluctance than necessary before adding my number.
“If that was all, I have something I need to do,” I say.
“Then I’ll see you at dinner, Anastasia.”
“Just Ana,” I correct before I can stop myself. My full name sounds too formal.
“Ana,” he repeats after me, and from his mouth it sounds enticing.
I need away from him, so I spin on my heel to march off.
“Where are you going?” he calls after me.
“You’re not on duty yet, Agent. That’s none of your business,” I say without looking back.
Every time I lay eyes on him I can’t explain the conflict inside me trying to gauge him. It’s like he can protect someone from the world, but also tear it apart in his wake.
I rush out of the foyer after checking my mom and dad aren’t around to question me.
It’s easier to plead forgiveness later when they insist having dinner with my new guard was more important than a party.
I beg to differ. In fact, more so than before, I’m longing for the distraction from a certain stunning blond man who is to become a regular presence, too close for comfort.
Something in the gleam of his stupidly attractive eyes tells me he won’t commit to the three strides rule.
Plucking the keys to the matte-black Porsche from the garage wall, a little flashy but my favorite to drive, I fold inside as the door finishes opening and speed off.
I’ll leave it at the party and Uber home.
I smirk to myself. Perhaps I’ll ask Rhett to retrieve it tomorrow, make his pretty face useful for something.
I can’t erase him from my mind and it’s sparking my frustration. I press on the gas, surpassing the speed limit just a little. My hands tighten around the wheel. Stop thinking about him. He’s just a man, no better than Victor Ross.
The moment I think it my mind scolds the lie. Though there’s a note of guilt in me for ever thinking badly of the sense I got from Victor now he’s tragically gone. I spent the week determined to prove to my father I don’t need a guard and would make the poor guy quit by becoming his problem.
Yet now Rhett Kaiser may have just become mine.