Page 14 of Not Ready

“He wouldn’t be a problem for you, even after our agreement came to an end,” I assure her. She clearly doesn’t understand what Bishop does for a living. I won’t have to lift a finger to ensure my promises are kept. “And I will guarantee your safety whether or not you choose to accept my offer. You’re also welcome to stay as long as you may need.”

Despite the extreme financial offer, I still feel it necessary to make sure she understands she’s under no obligation to accept it.

This is not a quid pro quo situation.

She worries her lower lip between her teeth as her shoulders hunch.

I don’t think she believes I’m capable of guaranteeing her safety.

I could tell her I own one of the most sought-after personal protection companies in the country or that we employ top-tier mercenaries who have no moral qualms about taking out the trash. Then again, most will never know the different levels of services we provide, but those who do would attest that we complete every contract with ruthless efficiency. Although, we do have certain operations that even we won’t touch.

“I own Assurance.” I stand, loosening my tie because it’s still bothering me. “You may recognize the name?” The blank stare she gives me proves that is not the case.

“I know that’s the name of the company Bishop works for, but I only learned that this morning.” She rubs her temples.

Right then, it’s time to give her the spiel. “We provide personal protection contracts for high-profile clients. The type of dangers they face are next level, compared to your problem. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened to scare you?”

She sighs, shaking her head. It takes several long moments before she speaks. “I’m a server. One of the guys who comes into the club I work at has been weird lately. It’s gotten worse the last couple of weeks. I actually saw him follow me home one night. Then he was inside my apartment this morning. Bishop told me to leave, but I didn’t have any family to stay with, so he told me to come here.”

My head tilts. “That was the best course of action.” Her situation seems fairly cut and dry. “In many stalking cases, the perpetrator will disregard logical sense if they feel slighted. He’s likely offended that you ran before he was done with you. Stalkers often act irrationally in situations such as this. I’m sure he’s searching for you now, if he didn’t follow you here directly.”

I frown.

The look on her face makes my indigestion worse.

“O-Oh God,” she says in a wobbly tone I instantly hate. Her eyes squeeze shut. “I tried to get my roommate to leave with me, but she wasn’t willing to come because she’s in school. It’s my fault. He’s after me. I just left her behind. If it was only me, that would be one thing, but I’m pregnant. I felt like I had to run, and I really did try to convince her to come, but she’s definitely at risk?—”

I cut off her rambling, saying, “I’ll handle it. Give me your address and your roommate’s contact information. I’ll have a team dispatched immediately.”

Her pretty blue eyes pop open. “Really? Does that only apply if I agree to your terms?”

“Of course not. We’re in the business of protecting people, and sadly, stalkers are often the most unpredictable of all perpetrators.” Well, outside of professionally hired killers, but she certainly doesn’t need to know that. I pull my suit trousers up a bit at the knees, squatting in front of her. “You can breathe easy. You’re safe here.”

She watches me carefully. “Why do you need a fake fiancée? I would help you, but I don’t think this is what Bishop had in mind when he sent me here.”

I sigh, standing to pace. “No, certainly not. Unfortunately, I misread the situation, and now I’m quite stuck. I’ll speak to him directly. Our relationship would stay professional. I simply need you to fill a role?—”

“But to what end? Why do you, of all people, need a fake fiancée? I’m sure you can find a real one without any trouble.”

“Well, that might be true if I was looking. However, I find it insulting that my family is so intent upon sticking to tradition. I have quite a substantial inheritance that will be split among my brothers if my parents don’t agree to disperse it to me before I turn thirty-five.”

“How far away is that?” she asks with wide eyes.

“Just over thirteen months, which is why our agreement wouldn’t last longer than a year.”

The door to the garage slams open and then shut.

I exhale heavily. It appears my window of opportunity has just closed.

Chapter Six

Vale

“Gorgeous?” Bishop’s low, gravelly tone fills the air as the sound of jogging feet approaches.

I scoot forward, rolling my hips and thighs from side to side in an attempt to get off the plush sofa.

“Allow me.” Mercer extends a hand.

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