Chapter Three
Aurelia
I sulk for a good five minutes.
Then I realize I’m playing into the hands of his image of me as a spoiled brat, and it makes me glower even more.
What a load of nonsense this is. Acting as if I’m the Prime Minister or some other important dignitary. Talk about a jobsworth.
“Have you done this before?” I ask curtly.
“Driven a Range Rover?”
“No. Been a bodyguard.”
“I prefer the term close protection officer.”
“Why? Because it sounds more officious?”
He throws me a glare. “Because it sounds less like the subject of a Hollywood movie. And no, I haven’t.”
“No wonder you’re throwing yourself into the role. You think you’re James Bond, don’t you? Double-oh-pain-in-the-arse?”
He inhales, then exhales slowly, possibly calming himself. “Just doing my job, ma’am.” He’s gone all stiff and professional again.
“Are you carrying a firearm?” I ask, curious in spite of myself.
“No, ma’am. Carrying a firearm for personal security is illegal in New Zealand.”
“So how do you expect to save me if I’m attacked? Do you intend to use your sparkling wit as a weapon?”
He stops at a set of traffic lights and has a swig of his coffee. “My plan is to avoid any dangerous interactions.”
“You mean run in the opposite direction?”
“Absolutely. That’s bodyguarding one-oh-one.”
I watch him glance in his rear mirror and check his wing mirrors before he pulls away. He did the same in the car park and the coffee shop. He’s really throwing himself into this.
What a knob.
Except he isn’t, not really. I look out of the window, frowning.
He doesn’t strike me as a guy who’s watched too many episodes of Bodyguard or the movie with Kevin Costner.
Even the fact that he prefers the term close protection officer suggests he’s taking this seriously.
I know what Marcus is like; for some reason he has a bee in his pretty bonnet about me needing protection.
It’s not Luke’s fault. He’s just doing his job to the best of his ability. I shouldn’t mock him for it.
I don’t have any intention of stopping, though. I’m having far too much fun. And driving him nuts is a sure-fire way to get him to quit so I can be left alone.
Studying him as he drives, I take time to note every detail about him.
The way the army buzz cut he must once have sported has grown into a short fade.
The smoothness of his jaw. He doesn’t have any gray, and is probably the same age as Marcus—twenty-eight, maybe twenty-nine today.
His eyes are dark brown, almost black, and they give me the shivers when he looks at me.
As I spend a lot of time around the men in my family, I know a lot about men’s clothing, and little details about his dark-gray suit suggest it’s a few years old.
It’s a tad loose on his large frame; no doubt he bought it before he came out of the army for a wedding or something, and he’s lost weight since he left.
It’s not tight fitting like Caesar’s and Marcus’s Italian cut suits, and it doesn’t have a waistcoat, or any interesting design details. It’s probably off the peg.
His white shirt is clean and ironed, though. His blue-and-white-striped tie bears a Windsor knot, and his shoes are polished. That says more about his military background than anything else.
He doesn’t have a ring on his finger, but it’s not proof that he doesn’t have a partner.
“Are you married?” I ask.
“No, ma’am.”
“Girlfriend?”
He shakes his head. That surprises me. He’s gorgeous—he must have girls falling over themselves to get to him.
“Married to the job?” I tease.
His lips curve up a little, but he doesn’t reply.
“Have you been married before?” I press, aware he’s not going to volunteer any information.
He sighs. “No. But I was with someone. We broke up a few months ago.”
“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.” He looks sad, maybe even haunted, and I feel a twinge of guilt for reminding him. Wanting to make him laugh, I add, “I’m not surprised though, considering what a pain in the arse you are.”
That makes him laugh. I smile, enjoying the way it lights up his face. He has beautiful straight teeth with a slight gap in the front two. He’s really handsome… when he’s not furious.
“I’m single at the moment as well,” I say. Then I frown. Why did I feel the need to tell him that?
“I know,” he says. I guess the rest of our security team have briefed him on my personal situation.
“Not for long though, if Dad has his way,” I say gloomily. He gives me a quizzical glance. “Dad’s retiring next year,” I inform him.
“Yes, I heard.”
“We had an offer of acquisition on the morning of the ball. And at the board meeting just before Christmas, he told us—Caesar, Marcus, and me—that if one of us doesn’t settle down and have a child by the end of next year, he’s going to sell.”
His lack of surprise tells me he’s obviously been told. “Seems kind of harsh.”
“You think? The guys thought it should be me. I told them, I’m not being sold off like some medieval virgin just to please my father.”
He gives a short laugh. “Good for you.”
Mollified that he approves, I continue, “Anyway, Marcus proposed to Wren Carter yesterday and she said yes, apparently, so I think I’m off the hook.”
“The woman he was sitting with at the ball?”
“Yes, that’s the one. He’s always had a thing for her, apparently. I’m pleased for him.” It hasn’t changed the fact that I’m annoyed at him for making me have a bodyguard, though. I fully intend to have it out with him again at some point.
“Here we go,” Luke says. He pulls into the Kōrero car park and slots the Range Rover into a visitor’s space by the building.
“Okay, hold on.” I check my reflection in the mirror on the sun visor and reapply my lipstick.
“Is it just a meeting today?” he asks.
“No, I’m giving an interview for their Countryside Spotlight feature.” I pocket my lipstick and blow out a breath.
“Are you nervous?” He looks surprised.
“I’m always nervous on camera.”
“You don’t look it.”
“You’ve seen some of my interviews?”
He hesitates, then says, “One or two. You seem very natural.”
“Well, that’s something.” I open the door. “Okay, let’s go.”
We walk into the building together. Luke glances around as I report to reception, then comes and sits beside me in the waiting area, his sharp gaze continuing to take in the busy foyer.
“What are you checking for?” I ask.
“Making sure I know where the exits are. Assessing potential threats.”
“Can you see any?”
He nods toward the water cooler. I follow his gaze and see a man standing there. He’s about five-ten, in his forties, and wearing a jacket and trousers. He looks perfectly ordinary. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Why is he standing by the water cooler but not pouring himself a drink? Why are his hands in his pockets?”
“Seriously? He’s just waiting for someone.”
“Maybe. But until he takes his hands out and moves on, he’s on my radar.”
Amused, I nudge him with my elbow. “You love all this, don’t you? Covert ops. It’s like being a spy.”
“Without the trilby and magnifying glass.”
I giggle, and his lips curve up.
“Ms. Ashford!” A woman approaches me with a smile, and I get to my feet. She’s in her thirties, smartly dressed, with a clipboard. “I’m Emma, I’m Lara’s assistant.”
“Please, call me Aurelia.” I hold out my hand, and we shake.
“All ready?” she asks. She glances at Luke.
“You can stay here,” I inform him. “I’m sure their security officers will know what to do if someone tries to kidnap me.”
But he says, “I’d rather come with you, ma’am.”
“You’re not sitting next to me while I’m being interviewed. You’ll make me even more nervous.”
“I’m happy to sit outside the studio.”
“Jesus.” I roll my eyes. “Sorry about this,” I say to Emma as we start walking across the lobby, Luke following a few feet behind. “My family’s being over-vigilant at the moment. I don’t know why.”
“Big brothers, eh?” she says cheerfully. “I’ve got three. I know what they’re like.”
We continue chatting until we reach the elevators, and she presses the button. When the carriage doors open, Luke puts an arm across, stopping me from passing him. I wait, embarrassed and exasperated, as he goes in first, glances around, then gestures for us to follow.
“For fuck’s sake,” I say.
Emma laughs and presses for the third floor. “I can think of worse things than having a handsome man following you around twenty-four-seven.”
Luke studies his shoes, and I exchange an amused glance with Emma, who then observes him with renewed interest.
When we arrive at floor three, she takes me to the studio. True to his word, Luke stays in the waiting area outside, while I go in and meet Lara.
I don’t know whether he goes off while I’m doing the interview, but when I come out, he’s waiting, and he gets to his feet as he sees me approach.
“All good?” he asks.
“Yep.” I breathe a sigh of relief as we head for the elevators. “It’s going out over the weekend.” This time I stand back and let him go in first, then follow him in. “Aren’t you going to say ‘good girl’?” I tease as he presses for the ground floor.
He mumbles something. I think it was, “Definitely not,” but I can’t be sure.
“Emma liked you,” I tell him playfully.
“I know. She asked me out for lunch.”
My eyes widen. “Wow, she didn’t waste any time.” I surprise myself by feeling a small stab of jealousy. He’s my bodyguard! Fucking cheek. “What did you say?”
“I thanked her politely and said I was flattered, but otherwise engaged.”
“You could have gone. I could have driven myself to the office.”
“And have you make a bolt for the border? I don’t think so.”
“Don’t be hurt when I ditch you,” I tell him. “I’m super skilled at evasive tactics.”
“Do your best, ma’am. Just don’t complain when I rugby-tackle you to the ground.”
The door slides open, and he marches out. I follow him, glowering a little. “Talking of rugby,” I say, “do you support the Wallabies or the All Blacks?” They’re the Australian and New Zealand national rugby teams.
“The Wallabies,” he says. “My dad’s a big fan.”
“I suppose supporting Australia builds character.”