Chapter Eleven #2
Mafia ties. It was a rumor, but he didn’t think so. At least
not normal mafia ties. “They meet in secret? Sorry. That’s none of my business,
but it sounds a bit exciting. I confess I can get bored with Oliver. He flits from party to party. Keeps a desk at his father’s
business but he never does any work.”
“Feels about the same with Edward except for when his father
calls him in to meet with Mr. Surmont. I think he’s some kind of broker,”
Gerald explained. “Like I said, at first I thought he might be a criminal, but
he’s coming to the wedding so he can’t be. Old Mr. Kirkallan
would never allow anyone controversial into that wedding.”
Mr. Surmont. He let that name sear into his brain. “Well,
I’m sure it will end up being a boring affair. Why do they need four parties
before? I’m on call for the entire week.”
Gerald groaned. “I know. It’s like they don’t think we have
lives outside of the job. My wife works in the kitchens. Great cook she is.
She’s been working herself to death getting ready for it. I’ll be happy when
it’s all over with.” He went still and touched his earpiece again. “Yeah. Got
it. I’ll handle it.”
Mal felt himself go on alert.
Gerald’s hand went to his waistband where his holster sat.
“Bloke’s got nothing. I mean we can’t figure out who this guy is. John says he
thinks someone wiped him from the web. I’m going to go find out who he is.
Watch the table for a moment. It’s probably nothing. John’s pretty new.”
Gerald strode off toward the lobby, and Mal kept his focus
on that space because his spine was tingling. Something was going on. He
felt…watched. He looked around but all he could see were security cameras.
Everyone else was paying attention to their own business, and security cameras
were necessary.
Why did he have this feeling? Why was his instinct to grab
Vivian and get out of here?
If this was a military operation he wouldn’t hesitate, but
this wasn’t a jungle or desert. It was the middle of London, and if he caused a
scene for no reason, there would be questions about his continued employment.
He didn’t like this feeling. He was used to acting not standing here thinking.
All around him everyone was sitting and chatting and eating
their five-star meals and drinking their expensive wines. Nothing was wrong. It
was a normal day, peaceful and calm in this part of the city, so why did a
tendril of fear creep up his spine?
Gerald strode into the lobby and immediately confronted the
younger man.
Who pulled out a gun and opened fire.
* * * *
Vivian watched as Mal took his place by the window
with the other men in suits. She’d thought he would at least get to sit at the
bar and have some lunch. “Is he okay?”
Oliver sank down onto his seat, looking decadent and brat
princelike. They were alone. Edward and Tatiana weren’t here yet, but Oliver
was fully in his role. “He’s fine, darling. He’s here to do a job not to enjoy
the restaurant. I happen to know my bodyguard would be horrified at the menu.
He’s more a Sunday roast and bangers and mash kind of guy. I hear the Dover
sole is perfection at this place. The chef is an up and comer.”
She didn’t care about the Dover sole. She cared that Mal was
standing at the edge of the room looking like a dangerous statue. He looked the
way he had in the beginning. Remote. Untouchable, and she knew how much he
needed to be touched.
He’d driven the car today, putting her in the back with
Oliver. When she’d asked to sit with him, he’d told her this was the job and
she needed to stay in her cover.
Oliver leaned over, whispering in her ear. “You need to
relax and stop looking at our bodyguard like he’s your one true love and you’re
about to lose him. We have plenty of time. Pretend I’m your boyfriend.”
His hand played against hers, and she felt nothing. It was
nothing like how her skin tingled wherever Mal touched.
“There are at least two of Edward’s security men already in
the building,” he whispered in her ear. She was sure to the outside world they
looked like lovers exchanging secrets. She managed a tight smile as he
continued. “His personal guard isn’t here yet, so they’re here to do surveillance.”
“For a lunch?” She made sure the words were quiet on her
lips.
Oliver’s hand was on hers, playing with her fingers, a show
of intimacy. “Yes, that’s what I was thinking. This is a lot for a simple
luncheon. He’s scared of something, and I want to know what. I’ve heard the
security around the wedding is going to be strict and tight.”
Which they would get around with an invitation.
“They’re here.” His hand squeezed hers briefly as he rose.
“Ollie Knight. I never thought you would willingly bring a
woman with you. I thought you were more inclined to pick one up for the night,”
a posh voice said. “Tati, this is Oliver. I was telling you all about him.”
Vivian stood and turned to see a couple walking toward the
table. They were dressed to the nines. Or maybe the tens, since everything on
their bodies was designer and at the cutting edge of fashion.
Tatiana Tottenham was at least six feet tall and probably
had to take in the size zeros she would buy at high-end stores. She was
painfully thin, and her pretty face looked like it was etched from marble, but
from the reports she’d read it had actually been a plastic surgeon who attained
her perfection. She’d had several surgeries after she turned eighteen. With
platinum blonde hair and what was probably a top-of-the-line spray tan, she
looked chic and elegant. She gave Oliver a smile. A seductive smile. She held
out her hand. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Knight. I hear you’re a very bad
boy.”
And this woman was getting married soon?
The bride-to-be completely ignored Vivian and zeroed in on
Oliver, who took her hand like a gentleman. “All lies, Ms. Tottenham. Vicious
lies. I only have eyes for my Vivian. This is my girlfriend, Vivian McKay.
Vivi, this is Tatiana and Edward. I’ve told you all about them.”
Yes, he had. They’d spent hours going over the facts about
these people’s lives. Mal had been with them. She liked working with him. He
was quick and smart and had excellent instincts.
He was also very distracting. She forced herself to smile
and nod Tatiana’s way. “Lovely to meet you.”
Edward moved in and took her hand. “Yes, it is lovely to
meet you.”
He brought her hand to his lips. Vivian had to force herself
to stay still and not slap the asshole. “You as well, Lord Kirkallan.”
Oliver had told her to misuse the title. It was actually his
father’s, but Edward loved to hear it.
The man chuckled and released her hand. “Oh, dear. That’s my
father for now, but one day.” He looked behind her. “Gerald, you may join your
friends.”
She noticed the stocky man who looked a bit uncomfortable in
his black suit. He had an earpiece, and his suitcoat couldn’t quite hide the
outline of his gun. So this was a man who knew he wouldn’t get in trouble.
Firearms weren’t allowed for bodyguards in the UK, but everyone knew the rich
were different. Mal had taken precautions to hide his own.
Edward sank to his seat while Oliver held out Vivian’s
chair. “It’s a bit like having a toddler. Go play, Mr. Bodyguard. Useless
wretches all of them, but I suppose if someone is going to take a bullet,
better him than me.”
She already hated this man. She’d hated him on paper. He was
the kind of wealthy man who thought everyone else was beneath him. Not in an
I-make-more-than-you way, but in a real, visceral, I-was-born-noble way. From
what she could tell Tatiana matched him.
Tatiana allowed Oliver to seat her as well. “Such a
gentleman.”
“I do try,” Oliver said and then moved back to his own seat.
“Well, it’s good to finally meet the woman who took Kirkallan
down.”
Tatiana smiled, but it was a cold thing. “Oh, darling, let’s
not pretend this is anything it’s not. Our parents decided long ago that this
wedding would happen. So it’s happening. Eddie and I are practical about it.
I’m practical about everything. That’s what happens when you’re kidnapped at a
young age. You get street-smart fast.”
She could guess where that practicality came into play. It
was strange that she was joking about the kidnapping, but dark humor was a way
to handle trauma. Tatiana had been briefly kidnapped at a young age. Vivian had
to wonder how much of her armor came from that one incident.
Edward huffed a laugh. “She’s not practical. She’s
particular. Picky. About everything. I had to call to make sure the restaurant
didn’t have a specific type of music playing. Classical. She hates it.”
She frowned. “It’s boring and offends my ears.”
“Certain songs? I thought it was all classical music. You
know my father hired a string quartet to play at the wedding,” Edward
challenged. “He insists it’s tradition.”
She shrugged. “As long as I approve of the set list, it’s
fine, but I can’t stand it while I’m eating. That doesn’t make me picky. It
means I know what I like and I am strong enough to ensure I don’t endure it.”
“Well, I suppose we all have to be practical when it comes
to marriage,” Oliver said, gesturing the server over and ordering drinks.
Martini for him. Gin, up with a twist. A glass of rosé for her. The happy
couple joined Oliver, though they preferred vodka for their martinis. “Although
sometimes ideas change when you meet the right person.”
He put a hand over hers.
Edward snorted, but it was obvious Tatiana tried to cover
for him. “Vivian, where did you and Oliver meet?”
“Our parents have known each other for ages,” Vivian
replied, watching them both. She could tell a lot from body language. Tatiana
held herself apart from her fiancée. She’d allowed him to lead her in, but the
minute she could, she put distance between them. “They formed a company
together.”
“Ah, yes. That security firm your father owns, or partially
owns,” Edward said. “I thought she was some secretary you were banging. I’m
surprised. She’s met your parents.”
“Well, I first met them when I was a child,” she
interjected.
“How many women have you brought home to meet your parents,
Oliver?” Edward asked.