Chapter 3
ERRYN
“Nearly done,” she called in her usual singsong way I’d grown used to over the decade she had been in my employ, and I nodded, casting an eye over the menu card next to my plate before following her.
I rarely went into the kitchen, not that I could have found a thing in the neatly organized room full of shining metal implements and impeccably categorized cupboards.
If Claire had put her mind to my line of work, the woman would have been unstoppable.
Even at nearly retirement age, not one knife was out of place in the row above the gleaming appliances, all sharpened to razor edges and ready for her to attack her latest creations.
It was as if she had taken my approach to food as sustenance over pleasure personally and took great pains in coming up with new dishes that might entice me.
“You would like the second meal taken down to the guest lounge, I assume?” she asked as I stepped through the door, already arranging a tray with a second set of cutlery.
“I didn’t know if she had any dietary requirements, but I can whip up something else if it’s not edible.
Now, you liked the fresh figs last week, didn’t you?
I noticed they were all gone, so I went ahead and ordered more for next week.
Don’t want you getting sick of them now, do we?
” She nodded to herself, not even waiting for my reply as she charged on.
“While I have you here, do you want anything special for your birthday dinner? And how many can I expect?”
The last question came with raised eyebrows and a tinge of hope, as she finally paused long enough to take a breath.
“Just me, Claire,” I said, allowing the barest tilt of my lips to placate her. “Potentially my new house guest as well, but that is still three weeks away, and I will have this squared away by then. I will leave the cuisine in your capable hands.”
“No guests? It’s not every day you turn forty-five, Erryn.”
Claire’s eyebrows fell as she caught the look I gave her, and she harrumphed under her breath, moving to stir whatever was in the pot that smelled so inviting as she muttered something into its depths.
I ignored her sulking and placed an envelope on the pristine counter.
“Your Visa card for expenses expires this month, the replacement is in there. Liaise with Rossi for her requirements and charge any additional expenses to the usual account. All her meals can be served to her quarters, and I have instructed Matilda to assist you if you need extra hands with the additional workload.”
“Extra hands!” She huffed. “Away with you. I am wasted on your bird stomach. It will be nice to finally have an appetite in the house to give me something to do!”
“Mhhmm,” I hummed, my phone chiming with a notification that the elevator was on its way up.
I left Claire muttering to herself, waving Matilda off as I intercepted her heading for the foyer and telling her to go home for the night.
Between my elderly chef and my neurotic housekeeper, I barely had to lift a finger to keep my house running, but I still liked to feel as if I had a finger on the pulse of my own home.
The elevator bell rang as it opened, revealing Helena dressed in simple cargo pants and a black jacket, a large canvas bag slung over her shoulder, and frowning.
“I have already isolated two security risks, and I haven’t even crossed the threshold,” she said in lieu of a greeting.
I raised a brow at her. “I can assure you, my security is just fine.”
She stepped into the foyer, and I caught a faint scent of her shampoo as she passed by, the subtle notes lingering in her wake as she went to inspect the door that led into the living area beyond.
“This leads to your living space?” she asked, pointing to the main door.
“It does,” I said, irritated at being questioned in my own foyer.
“And this one?” She pointed to the only other door that led to the lower level.
“Guest quarters. You will find everything you need down the—” I cut off as she dropped her bag, heading toward my level.
“There were no blueprints in the file, so I will inspect both levels for security issues before anything further,” she said, disappearing through the door without a backward glance.
“Rossi!” I barked after her retreating footsteps.
She paused long enough for me to catch up, though her attention was on scanning my home for unidentified threats.
“As I have already stated,” I said, seething, “this is an ornamental position. I do not require you to be on active duty while in the confines of my home.”
She glanced at me then, without an ounce of the usual trepidation I saw from others.
“Respectfully, Loxley, there is an active threat against the Triarchy Chairs, and my contract is to ensure your safety. While I appreciate that your own skillset no doubt exceeds my own, my own life rides on the successful outcome of this.”
“Pardon?” I asked coolly.
“What agent would last five minutes if the Chair they were contracted to protect was harmed during?” she said just as coolly back. “Plus, I have a damn record to uphold.” She winked at me, striding off into my study and leaving me fuming in the hall.
Ben answered on the second ring. “Yes, hello?”
“Who else was on the list?” I snapped.
“Uh…” There were footsteps and then a long silence. “Every level one female is either out of the country, contracted, or on medical stand down. I can have Cage replace Rossi within the hour if she is unsuitable?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I held back the irritated sigh as Rossi’s footsteps receded further into my home.
“Ma’a—Sorry, Loxley?”
“Masters’s contract was up first,” I said. “I think she was due back by the end of next week. Put an alert on her file not to take another contract until she has seen me.”
“Absolutely. And shall I send Cage in the meantime?”
“No.” I snapped. “I’ll make do.” Hanging up, I took a second to regain my composure, furious that I had let myself get this irritated, and went in search of my new headache.
I found her standing in the middle of my lounge, a small device in one hand and her phone in the other. There was a flash of green as she glanced at me.
“You run a smart home system,” she said. “Impressive, I’ve only seen this once before. Panic room access is where?”
“My study,” I replied. “Biometric and passcode.”
“Good.” She nodded. “And there is no direct access from the lower level to this one?”
“Not unless you think people are going to be shimmying up the laundry chute,” I said acidly.
“You will find your accommodation on the lower floor. Take your pick of the rooms available. Claire—my chef—will see to any food requirements you have, and Matilda—my housekeeper—arrives at 0600hrs daily. I have logged both their numbers into your contact list, should you need anything. We leave at 0700hrs.”
She hummed her acknowledgment, though her attention was on the screen in her hand as she tapped out a message.
“And yours?” she asked after sending off whatever it was.
“My what?”
“Number,” she said with a slight curve of her lips. “Unless you prefer that I run communications through your assistant?”
It had been a very long time since I felt like I’d been on the back foot with anyone, and somehow this woman had managed to do it within minutes of being in my home—and that was completely fucking unacceptable.
“I will add it in. Please ensure you use my personal number for emergencies only,” I said evenly, refusing to show this woman how furious she was making me. “Feel free to get settled in your room. Dinner will be served shortly. I am assuming you have not eaten.”
“Of course,” she said, still with a hint of a smile that suggested she found this entire thing…amusing? God, I needed a drink.
I returned to the dining room to find Claire setting my food down at my usual place at the long dining table, and she beamed at my quiet thanks as I sat, my mouth watering at the rich aroma of lamb.
“Did you want dessert tonight?” she asked, sounding ever hopeful as she poured me a generous glass of red.
“No. Thank you, Claire. That will be all.”
I ignored the small huff of disappointment as she bustled off back to the kitchen, my attention on the Triarchy database as I authorized my personal details to be loaded into Helena’s contacts before slicing off a tender bit of lamb and popping it in my mouth.
My stomach growled again, impatient after a long day of forgetting to eat, and I let out a contented sigh as I washed it down with a sip of wine.
I could do this. I could deal with a stranger in my space for a short time. It wouldn’t take me long to iron out the issues in the database and get everything running smoothly again, and then life would return to its normal flow. I just had to get through the next few days.
My phone chimed, and I glanced down at a new message.
Helena
Ignore the power cut incoming. It’s just me syncing to the security system and rebooting it.
“What—”
I was plunged into darkness, followed moments later by the sound of a pot clanging to the ground from the direction of the kitchen. Seconds later, the lights blinked back on as my smart home technology reconnected.
“—the fuck.”
My phone pinged again.
Helena
Your smart home isn’t very smart. We can discuss this later.
I was going to fucking kill her.