Chapter 12
Dominic
“I’m hearing a lot of noise from Firm Stand lately. What can you tell me about that?” Eli Preston asks. He is a coordinator for our security systems. He handles everything from the guys we have on the ground to our surveillance.
Bad Wolfe Security Solutions works with everyone: government, celebrities, politicians, protecting government facilities, private properties, event buildings, and sensitive information.
Our guards work on the ground, and through intelligence communications, we ensure our clients that their business stays safe.
Preston’s job in all of this is keeping me informed on how smoothly our jobs are running.
“The last I heard, the Governor of California seems to think he needs a presidential entourage as he’s on the campaign trail,” I say.
Andrew chuckles. “He’s a Governor. What’s he want, a helicopter?”
“Just about,” I say. “For the right price he can have it, but I do think it’s over the top.”
“Do we have the capacity to provide that?” Preston asks.
“You tell me,” I say. Andrew and I are in the meeting room talking to Preston’s face on a screen in front of us.
Andrew is doing everything from bouncing his foot to clicking a ballpoint pen, and I am about two clicks away from throwing the thing across the room.
I’m not a fidgety man. I’m also not a man who is okay with other companies trying to outdo our performance by cutting corners and using big words.
Rafe Shaeffer is though.
“My only concern is Shaeffer,” Preston admits, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes. There it is. I knew we couldn’t get through a meeting without his name being brought up.
“What’s he got to do with it?” Andrew asks. “Shaeffer only works with celebrities, investors, athletes, and actors—people that can give him benefits.”
He’s not wrong. Rafe does love free Lakers tickets and standing next to Grammy nominees on the red carpet. Meanwhile, who knows what else he’s dipping his hands into when they’re not looking.
“Well, from the sounds of it, he’s taken a recent interest in governmental figures. According to the Governor’s reps, Shaeffer’s already told them he can provide sky surveillance.”
“That’s insane!” Andrew shouts, throwing his hands up and tossing the pen to the side. Thank God.
“It’s a move on the chessboard designed to distract us from what we really want.
If he wants to babysit the Governor and buy him new toys, let him.
We are keeping our eyes on Golden Rule. It’s a multi-billion dollar firm, and when they switch security companies, I will be damned if they choose his over ours. ”
I am done with the conversation, at least as far as Preston is concerned. We shut the screen off, and I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers, closing my eyes to regroup.
“You’re really just going to let Rafe take over that job?”
My eyes snap open. “The man wants a goddamn helicopter, Andy. We are not dumping our resources into that. That’s exactly what Rafe wants us to do.
We hand over our top-end shit, and what do we have to offer Golden Rule?
Our bid needs to have the best of the best. From physical to cyber, onsite, personal, and regulatory compliance.
They won’t settle for anything but top-tier controlled entry, secured server rooms, cameras, alarms, and after-hour monitoring.
Eyes that are wide awake around the clock. ”
“I know, I know,” he nods. “You forget I work here too. I just mean that even if we do hand over the government job so we have more resources, we are still short, aren’t we? Problematically, Rafe comes from old money.”
“And you forget that I do too,” I snap back.
“Yeah, but your money is locked up,” he says, and I could punch him for that. He seems to catch on, and his expression softens slightly. “Any movement on that?”
“If you’re asking if my loving father has agreed to hand over my inheritance so I can secure the job, no, and he doesn’t plan to. His stipulations won’t budge. That’s not who he is.”
A permanent scowl rests on my face as I drive home. That meeting didn’t go as I’d hoped. Honestly, I don’t give a shit about the government job, but I don’t like feeling like Rafe is winning. If either of us is going to pump needless resources into a job, I’d rather it was him.
I want the Golden Rule job.
I want it because the pay involved is astronomical.
I want it because I invested my own money in it.
I want it because when you work in my industry; you learn a lot about people and what’s behind the doors you’re guarding for them.
At the level we are at, security can be a dirty business.
Everyone is trying to protect something.
I found that people who have a lot of money have the most to protect, and some of those things are less than savory.
There’s a lot of shade in this industry, and I do my best to keep our hands clean.
Rafe doesn’t fight clean on any platform.
If he gets access behind the scenes with a company like Golden Rule, he would be privy to a lot of information.
A lot of people could get hurt, and it would all go unreported because he’s that sneaky.
I’m not about to let that happen.
When I get to the house, I find Mila standing in the kitchen polishing the stovetop.
“Do we cook on that enough to need weekly polishing?” I ask. I’m in a shit mood.
“I do,” she says without looking up. Then she says, “How was your meeting?”
It’s the first we’ve spoken since our little incident the other day in my office. We don’t often have conversations, but the air has been tense since then.
“Unproductive,” I say. “Frustrating.”
“You want to talk about it?” she asks. It feels like an olive branch. Andrew is usually the only person I ever willingly vent to. I prefer to take it out in the ring. But right now, I feel like a shaken Coke bottle, about to blow its lid.
“I want a drink,” I say. Mila does one last shimmering swipe over the stovetop, then quietly puts away the cleaners before walking over to the cabinet for a glass and a bottle of whiskey. She sets both down on the bar.
“Where did that come from?” I ask, nodding towards the unopened bottle of my favorite bourbon.
“I bought it,” she says. “With the card you gave me. I figured since the last of the other bottles got mopped up, you needed a replacement.”
Damn.
This is more than an olive branch.
“Is this a white flag?” I ask her as I sit down and break the seal on the bottle.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“For what happened the other day. The coffee, the yelling…”
She bites her lip and my blood fissures under my skin. “Call it a truce,” she offers.
Damn, this girl is stubborn. I stare at her, and she stares right back. I’m not used to that. I’m used to women being clumsy, blank, and dense. But this girl isn’t any of those things. She’s detailed, determined, and bold. Honestly, I don’t know why she’s working as a maid and a bartender.
I allow my scowl to soften a little. “Drink?” I ask.
“I’m good, thanks. My boss gets grumpy when I’m not at peak performance.”
“He sounds like a hardass,” I play along.
“The worst,” she says, and it earns her a small smirk.
“So what’s got you so stressed?” She asks as she grabs a cloth and starts dusting cabinets.
“You mean besides the fact that I run a million-dollar security industry with a billion moving parts?” I ask, taking a sip.
“Oh, is that all?” She asks, and I can hear the smile in her voice. Is she flirting with me?
“I have a…rival…so to speak. He thinks he is going to outbid me on a job, and it’s a real pain in the ass.”
“Are you going to let him?” she asks.
“Am I going to let him what?” I ask, looking over at her. She’s buzzing around, making sure every inch of my kitchen is spotless. It’s making me a little uncomfortable, but I don’t think it’s the glistening countertops that have me shifting in my seat. It’s the way she looks while she’s doing it.
She’s petite but curvy. Her ass is nearly perfect, even in those knock-off brand leggings.
She pulls her hair into a tight, no-nonsense ponytail, but it looks wavy and wild when she lets it down.
She’s understated, but not plain. Actually, now that I look at her in the sunlight that pours through the windows, I realize for the first time just how attractive she is.
“Are you going to let him outbid you?” she asks, continuing to move around. I keep my eyes fixed on her ass and vividly picture how it would feel to hold it in my hands as she grinds against me.
“You don’t have to keep cleaning,” I blurt out. “Sit down for a minute.”
“Okay?” she asks with a curious smile. Then she pulls up a chair. Thank God.
“And no, I’m not going to let him. If I can help it. Unfortunately, there is something standing in my way that I can’t seem to find my way around right now.”
“No? But you find your way around everything,” she says, and I am not sure what she’s implying. She’s definitely flirting with me, but it’s not over the top and desperate like most girls. Too loud, too obvious, too much. No, she’s subtle, playing a gentle game of cat and mouse, like it’s a dance.
We need to change the subject.
“So, what about you?” I ask, taking another sip.
“What about me?” she asks, biting her lip momentarily. I swear I have seen this girl somewhere else. It’s driving me insane.
“I don’t know. You’ve been working for me in my house for months, and I hardly know anything about you.”
“Oh, really?” She asks, arching one of her perfect eyebrows and curling her lips all in one gesture. “A big shot security man and you didn’t do any digging before you hired me? I find that hard to believe.”
“I ran a background check, of course. But if you’re asking if I dug into your personal life, the answer is no. I don’t use my position to sneak around,” I say. Unlike some people.
“Fair enough,” she says. “Well, you’ve seen my apartment. It’s not much. LA is expensive, so I work three jobs, as you know. I’ve been a bartender and waitress since high school.”
“You never wanted to do anything else?” I ask. “College? A career?”
That seems to hit a nerve because she just stares at me for a moment before saying, “I couldn’t afford to do anything else. Not everyone–” she stops. Looks away. Swallows. Then looks back. “Not everyone’s life goes the way they plan.”
I’m not poking around in that anymore. There’s a wound there that, if I had to guess, hasn’t scarred over. “Family?” I ask.
“No.”
“Husband?”
She snorts. “No.”
“Boyfriend?”
His eyes land on mine hard, and the challenging smirk is back. “No.”
I nod. “Fair enough,” I say, echoing her words. I get up and my phone buzzes. A text from Andrew. “I should get back.”
She gets up too and grabs my glass and the bottle, heading for the sink. But when she goes to walk around me, I sidestep, blocking her path. It’s unexpected, and she almost runs into me. We are standing in front of each other, nearly touching, the whiskey in my exhales filling the air between us.
I don’t know what I am doing or why. But I am just so curious. My eyes trail from her eyes down to her lips, making them part simply by focusing on them. She smells like berries, flowers, and want.
My hand slowly rises up to her face, and I take her chin gently between my fingers.
Mila emits the smallest gasps because she knows what’s coming.
We both do. I lean down and press my lips to hers, softly, testing the waters, then fully.
It’s electric. As her body softens against mine, she lowers her arms to her sides, glass and bottle still in hand. I reach around her to pull her closer.
But my phone rings and my mouth rips from hers. Mila takes a step back, and I answer it.
“Andrew,” I ask, clearing my throat.
“He’s jumping on that job, just like you said he would,” Andrew says, and it pisses me off.
“Of course he fucking is,” I say, turning to head into my office. As I close the door behind me, my pulse races. My chest is pounding. I’m unraveling. I don’t know if it’s because I am angry about what Andrew is telling me, or if the moment was ruined.