Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
R ome checked in with the exterior guards.
“All quiet, Rome.”
“That new camera get installed in the blind spot?” Rome asked.
“Yeah, Ace sent a guy. It’s not tied into the main system yet, so you need to check the feed separately.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
Back inside, Rome fired up his laptop and activated the security system. He glanced up at the ceiling, thinking of Sofie upstairs, sleeping.
He paused. Memories of her sweet ass in his hands, and the taste of her on his lips, cascaded through his head. Damn, the way she called out his name… Desire was hot and heavy in his gut.
Tonight, she needed to rest.
But tomorrow…
Well, they’d see. He couldn’t keep his hands off her for much longer.
His phone rang. It was Vander.
“Hey,” Rome said.
“Sofia okay?”
“Yeah, she’s sleeping.”
“Saw the way you looked at her, Rome. And the way she is with you.”
Rome dragged in a deep breath. “She’s mine.”
Vander made an amused sound. “Damn, you going to take the fall, too?”
“Don’t know where it’s going, but I can’t stay away. She’s mine.” He paused. “I know it oversteps the bounds of my work, but I’m not leaving her safety to anyone else. You try to take me off her security, I’ll quit, and guard her anyway.”
Vander was silent a moment. “Are you sure you can keep your cool? That you can be her lover and her bodyguard?”
“I’ll protect her with my life.”
“Okay. We’ve been through too much together for me to doubt you. You know I trust your judgment, Rome, and at Norcross, we’ve never followed the rules exactly. We both know life is never neat and tidy. But if you need help, or things get sticky, you tell me. I’ve got your back, and Sofie’s.”
Relief rushed through Rome. “Thanks, Vander.”
He checked the security system again. He put on some music—some low, bluesy jazz—and got to work going over the security plan for the gala. There was a ping on his computer and Ace’s face popped up in a chat window.
Born to Brazilian parents but raised in the US, Ace had dark good looks that made him popular with the ladies, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. The man was sitting in his lair at the Norcross Security office—the walls were covered in flat screens.
“Working late?” Rome asked.
“No rest for the wicked, mi amigo . How’s the princess after the attack?”
“Fine. A little scraped up, but sleeping now.”
“Vander said she looks like a perfect princess, but she has a spine of steel.”
“Yeah.” A good description. “Heard you got the extra camera set up.”
“The blind spot is plugged. I’ll get the camera integrated into the main controls tomorrow. I ran a system diagnostic while I was at it.”
“And?”
“There’s a problem with a downstairs window. Someone very cleverly hacked it so it won’t set the alarm off when it’s opened.”
Hair rose on the back of Rome’s neck. “Someone got in?”
“Nope.” Ace sat back in his chair. “Someone got out .”
Rome’s chest locked.
“I’m guessing you didn’t climb out the window in the middle of the night, amigo ?”
“No, I did not.” It was only himself and Sofie inside.
“So, your princess snuck out.”
A muscle in Rome’s jaw twitched. “I’ll find out.”
Why the fuck would she sneak out? Why would she risk herself like that? His gut felt like sludge. Was she meeting a lover?
No . She’d come alive for him. She’d been hungry for his touch. He couldn’t believe that was a lie, or that she was seeing someone else.
“Thanks, Ace.”
His friend saluted him. “Good luck. Go easy on her.”
Rome closed the laptop and headed upstairs.
It was silent.
He didn’t bother to knock, just pushed open the door to her bedroom. It was shadowed, moonlight streaming through the window.
Illuminating the empty bed.
He flicked on the light.
No Sofie.
There was a black laptop sitting on her bed though. He frowned. It wasn’t the shiny, silver one she’d showed him the other day.
He opened it. It had a heavy-duty casing…and a heavy-duty encryption on it.
His cell phone pinged and he pulled it out. It was a notification from the security system.
The downstairs window had just been opened.
Anger flared, but he banked it down. He jogged down the stairs. Quickly, he slipped out the front door and pulled out the second app showing the new camera feed.
He watched a slim figure in black dart through the former blind spot to the trees.
Fuck .
Rome signaled one of the guards, pressing a finger to his lips. “Keep watch,” Rome whispered. “There’s something I need to follow up.”
The guard nodded and Rome stuck to the shadows.
As he reached the street, he saw Sofie out on the sidewalk, a ball cap pulled low on her head. She was walking away from the house, totally relaxed. Like she was just out for an evening stroll. She had a black backpack slung over one shoulder.
Rome scowled. Where the hell was she going?
He jogged to his X6, bleeped the locks, and slid behind the wheel. As he pulled out onto the street, he hoped Sofie didn’t spot the vehicle. He drove slowly and saw her walk down a side street.
He pulled over, then nosed forward enough to spot her.
He saw her get into a blue Tesla.
What the hell?
Moments later, she pulled out onto the street ahead of him. A second later, Rome followed.
He was experienced at tailing people, and she didn’t notice him. When she pulled up at the imposing facade of the Ritz-Carlton hotel, he frowned.
He watched her hand her keys to the valet. Once she’d entered the lobby, Rome pulled in.
“Checking in, sir?” the uniformed valet asked.
“Yeah.” He handed over his keys and quickly strode into the hotel.
The lobby was opulent and modern. There was lots of shiny, veined marble and everything was decorated in shades of gray.
Rome scanned around. Crap, if he lost her…
There .
She was standing with some people at the elevators.
Rome circled around the lobby, moving closer, but staying out of her view. The elevator doors opened.
An old lady with a walking frame fumbled with her key card near the door to the elevator.
“Can I help you?” Sofia asked.
“Oh, that would be lovely, dear. I’m going to the top floor.”
“Me too.” Sofie helped the woman into the elevator.
Rome whirled and found the stairs. He broke into a run, taking them two at a time. Thankfully the Ritz-Carlton buildings only had a few stories. He reached the top floor, and cracked open the door.
Out in the corridor, he saw Sofie helping the old lady to her suite.
“You’re so kind,” the woman said. “Thank you.”
“Have a great night.” Once the lady closed her door, Sofie’s smile disappeared.
She scanned the empty hall, then Rome watched her stride to the housekeeping closet and pick the lock.
It appeared his princess was hiding some pretty interesting skills.
Moments later, she came out dressed in a housekeeping uniform, with a brown wig on, and pushing a cart. Cogs turned in his brain and a suspicion formed.
Rome ground his teeth together. He had no idea what she was up to, but he planned to find out.
Sofie had a lot of explaining to do.
He watched her knock on a suite door. “Housekeeping.”
Rome shot off the text to Ace.
Need to know who’s staying in the Presidential Suite at the Ritz-Carlton.
Sofie opened the door and disappeared inside.
Rome strode down the hall. His phone vibrated.
Boris Petrovich. Russian. Here for the gala.
Rome’s gut hardened. What the hell? This couldn’t be a lover’s meet-up, or otherwise there’d be no need for her housekeeping disguise. He pulled a card out of his wallet. It took a second to override the electronic lock and he slipped inside the suite.
It was silent.
Place was stylish, with gleaming, wooden floors, more shades of gray with a few touches of blue. There was a nice view of the Coit Tower out of the windows.
Rome turned left and followed the faint sounds down the hallway. He moved silently, and saw a door ajar. He pushed it open.
It was the master bedroom.
Sofie was crouched in front of an open safe, a sparkling tiara in one hand, and a small card in the other.
“Resting well, beautiful?”
Sofie’s head whipped around, blank shock on her face.
* * *
No. Oh, no.
Sofie squeezed her eyes shut, praying that Rome was just a figment of her imagination.
She opened her eyes.
No . He was still standing there, looking very pissed off.
He couldn’t be here. If he was caught…
“Rome, I—”
He strode across the room, and snatched the card out of her hand. As he looked at it, something rippled across his face.
“Get the tiara packed up,” he said.
He set the card in the safe and closed it.
“You can’t be here,” she said. “Go.”
His green gaze met hers—hot, angry. “Pack up the sparkler.”
“If you get caught—”
“I won’t.”
“I have diplomatic immunity,” she whispered furiously. “You don’t.”
“So, the quicker we get out of here, the better.”
Dammit . He was so stubborn. She pulled out her makeup kit from her backpack and lifted up the false bottom. Rome watched with interest as she set the tiara inside.
“Resourceful,” he said.
She noticed he was careful not to use her name. Probably worried about any recording devices.
She zipped up her backpack and Rome took it.
“Let’s go.”
She nodded. Then she heard the distinct click of the front door and voices.
Oh, crap.
A muscle in Rome’s jaw ticked. “Go. Do your maid routine.”
“What about you?” Her pulse was racing.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep this.” He jiggled the backpack. “If they suspect you, they won’t find the tiara on you.”
“What if they see you—?”
“They won’t.” He touched her cheek, then pushed her out the bedroom door.
Sofie resisted the urge to fiddle with her wig. She walked into the luxurious bathroom and grabbed some towels.
She walked out and headed down the hall.
“Hey,” a man barked from the living room. “We need more towels in the other bathroom, too.”
Sofie nodded her head. Boris Petrovich . He had clean-cut features but an ugly scowl.
She hurried to the front door and reached the cart. She grabbed more towels, wishing she could just walk away.