Chapter Nine #3
“Vivi, you can do your job in the background. We have cameras, and you can
watch everything through them. It will be exactly like you’re there except
without the possibility of you getting shot. Someone always gets shot, sweetie.
I’m trying to make sure it’s not you. I’ll send someone over. I assure you one
of the ladies will be willing to put up with Oliver in exchange for hanging
around at some billionaire’s estate.”
She felt her skin heat with embarrassment. She would bet the
other operatives didn’t have to deal with their relatives chiming in on cases.
“Then tell him to send an entire team and negotiate with MI6
because none of us is working if Vivian isn’t,” Mal’s deep voice said. “And
good luck with getting the invite. Oliver’s reputation for being fun is exactly
why he’s making his way into that group. He’s been working on it for months.
But I’m sure you can do better. I’m sure you can find someone with the connections
in London society. Vivian has moved around in that society. She knows them, and
they know her as a sweet therapist who helps people get over trauma. You’ll
need to find someone people will be happy to talk to.”
Damon’s gaze had hardened. “Ian, I wasn’t calling to get
your permission.”
“Who the hell was that?” her uncle asked.
That was Mal, and suddenly her flush wasn’t about
embarrassment. It was about how good it felt to have him back her up. William
would have told her she needed to think about it and meditate because she was
putting her life at risk. Tarquin never listened when she talked about work.
None of her other boyfriends would have been willing to put their lives and
careers on the line for her.
“Do you honestly think I would let Oliver protect my
daughter?” her father asked, ignoring the secondary argument. “Oliver will get
distracted by whichever woman gives him attention. I would never allow him to
watch over Vivian.”
“You know that’s part of his cover, right?” Damon shot back.
“He’s an extremely effective operative.”
“He’s still not guarding my daughter,” her dad replied
stubbornly.
“He’s not the bodyguard.” Vivian was getting frustrated but
she couldn’t show it. She couldn’t give her father any reason to freak out more
than he already was. She needed to make him see her as the competent
professional she was now, not as a bratty teenager. “Oliver is there because
he’s the subject-matter expert. He’s been following this group for over a year.
He’s the only reason any of us can get into that wedding, so I don’t think
sending in another team is going to work.”
“Then who is the bodyguard?” her father demanded.
“Is he the asshole who just told off his boss?” her uncle
asked.
“I am, Mr. Taggart,” Mal replied, not moving from his place.
“I’m former Captain Mays. I’m sure Damon can send you my CV.”
“I have your CV,” Uncle Ian replied, a bit more settled now.
“Any reason you’re not on camera?”
“There’s not a lot of room, and my place is in the
background,” Mal replied. “But I assure you I can protect Vivian. If you’ve
seen my CV, you know how many years I’ve spent in the military.”
“I know you only have one leg,” her father said.
Vivian felt her jaw drop. “What did you say?”
Her dad’s eyes closed and he took a breath, a sure sign that
he knew he’d gone too far. He was a wonderful father, but he could get
overprotective. “Sweetheart, I’m not trying to be rude.”
“And yet you’re doing such a good job at it,” Vivian
accused.
Her dad seemed to accept that and moved on. “I’m sorry. I’m
only trying to point out that this is a demanding job. There’s a reason they
put him on desk duty. A bodyguard has to be in tip-top shape. Any weakness
could cost his client.”
“Mr. McKay, the next time you’re in town, let’s spar and see
who should be behind a desk,” Mal said.
“Do you honestly believe I didn’t test him?” Damon seemed
angry this meeting wasn’t going as planned. “He can run a mile in five minutes.
He can take Oliver down with ease.”
“Anyone with breasts can do that,” her dad muttered.
Her uncle chuckled. “And everyone in the world can take Alex
down. He’s gotten soft in his old age. Personally, I would love to spar with
you, Mays. But don’t think I’ll play fair since no one else will.”
If Mal was intimidated by her six-foot-five, pure muscle
uncle, he didn’t show it. “Well, if you go for my leg, you should know I nearly
beat to death the last man to do it. It’s handy. It helps me walk. I can use it
as a weapon. Sometimes I use it as a backscratcher.”
She stood up and turned his way. She couldn’t stand that
they were questioning him this way. The last thing he needed was more
humiliation. “Mal.”
She was shocked to find his lips were curled up, and he
winked her way.
“William was right. Your uncle’s a massive arse,” he said.
“Okay, okay.” Her father took another steadying breath.
“Vivian, we need to talk about this because I think you’re doing this for all
the wrong reasons. I know you’ve had a rough time on the romantic front, but
you’ve always been independent and strong. You don’t need to prove anything for
a man to want you.”
“What?” She turned and stared at the screen. It looked like
it was the part of this meeting where the humiliation turned on her. “What are
you talking about?”
He made her sound utterly pathetic. Was this what her
parents thought of her? And who had told them about Mal? She might have thought
Damon would give them a heads-up, but she’d come to believe he was serious
about his employees’ privacy.
Uncle Ian sat back with his dumbass-is-about-to-go-off look.
He had a lot of those.
Her father fell right into that one. “I’m talking about
Oliver. I would have hoped you would have learned your lesson with that
ridiculous boy.”
Her uncle laughed. “Tarquin. What the fuck kind of name is
that? It sounds like a prissy bottle of gin.”
Mal snorted, a sound of pure agreement.
He was not helping.
And she was confused.
“What about Oliver? Look, I know he has a bad reputation,
but there’s a reason for it. He’s an excellent operative and a good Dom who
takes care of his people.” Oliver could be obnoxious at times, but he came
through when needed. Always. He was surprisingly sensitive sometimes.
Her father had gone pale.
Actually, so had her uncle.
“Thank you,” Damon said under his breath.
Her father sighed. “We know about your crush on Oliver.”
“Vivi, I thought you were the smart one,” her uncle began.
“I know that weird British guy cried a lot, but at least he wasn’t a walking
poster for chlamydia.”
She felt her jaw drop. Where had that come from? “I do not
have a crush on Oliver. Who told you that?”
“Why else would you stay in London? And now you’re talking
about him being your top?” Her father put a hand on his chest like he was going
to have a heart attack. “I don’t need to hear that. Sweetie, you don’t know
where he’s been.”
“Could you stop talking about my son like he’s a used rag?”
Damon asked. “Don’t forget, Ian, I’ve known you for a long time, and you were
older than Ollie. I know how many women you ran through when you thought
Charlotte was gone.”
“I was emotional,” her uncle shot back.
“Then let’s call Ten Smith and talk about who you were