Bolt swiveled around and put his hand around her shoulders, his large frame engulfing her as he propelled her in the opposite direction, which happened to be toward her apartment. He barked orders into his cell phone as they walked the few blocks to her home. Once there, he quickly got her inside the building.
“What happened?” Regina asked. “Why were they?—”
“Not now,” Bolt ground out, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He nodded to the concierge on duty and all but shoved Regie toward the elevator banks. No gentle hand on the small of her back this time.
The elevator dinged its arrival. He corralled them both inside and pushed the button for Regie's floor.
“But I—” she tried, but he interrupted again.
“What part of staying safe did you not understand when we discussed security measures?” Bolt’s hazel eyes sparked with anger. “If I push you behind me, you stay behind me. Understood?”
She nodded. “I didn’t understand what happened.”
He dragged a hand down his face, taking a deep breath. When he looked at her again, his eyes were still intense, but the anger had subsided. “It’s instinct to want to see what’s going on. But those photographers could have had weapons instead of cameras.”
The severity of what could have happened at the Lofn offices all of a sudden hit her. “You could have been stabbed,” she said. “Or shot.”
He clenched his jaw and looked at the ceiling for a few seconds before addressing her. “No, Regina. You could have been stabbed or shot.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t think to say anything else. She’d somehow forgotten about the whole bodyguard thing. And even though she knew—well, now knew—that the job entailed him stepping between her and the perceived threat, it had touched something deep inside her. When had someone last taken care of her? Her grandfather cared about her, of course he did, but he protected who she represented for the company and profits, never just her.
Regie struggled to control her emotions. For once, she felt grateful for the long elevator ride to her apartment. She lived on the top residential floor. Big open suites available for the residents should they want to throw a party for a hundred or so of their closest friends occupied the level above her home.
There were indoor and outdoor entertainment spaces, both offering the same splendid view as Regie's apartment. A few levels below her, the whole floor offered a state-of-the-art gym, an Olympic-size pool, and changing rooms with saunas and steam rooms.
Impressive and modern, the building still felt a little soulless. Although, Regie liked to think that she had made her space cozy. It, too, looked stylish and modern, but she’d worked hard to make it look lived in—like a home rather than a showpiece.
As he stepped out of the elevator, Regie changed the topic. “How are the employee screenings going?”
Bolt shot her a look and that muscle in his jaw ticking again. “We’ve staged the interviews as if they are part of the IPO process, and since I’m the CEO's fiancé, I can’t ask any questions.” He took her key card from her and unlocked her apartment. Motioning for her to stay in the hall, he stepped inside and then returned a few minutes later. He gestured for her to enter and continued their conversation. “I have to watch all the interviews via live or recorded video. It’s frustrating, a little boring, and it makes me tired.” Bolt placed the wrinkled takeout bags on her kitchen counter and handed back the entry card to her.
"Oh, that reminds me." She dug around in her bag and then handed him a different key card. "I requested this for you. I know you already have arranged to have access to the building, and since we're supposedly living together, it doesn't make sense that you have to knock on the door each time you come home...here." She rubbed a palm against her thigh.
"Thanks." He pocketed the card. “The keys Heimdall Shield used to install the cameras were short term only. If you hadn't requested a permanent key, I would have arranged for one. But I didn’t want to push it since you obviously value privacy.”
“I appreciate that.”
Awkward silence grew as they stood in her kitchen, just looking at each other. Suddenly, Bolt sprang into action, unpacking the food containers. Their contents hadn’t leaked, despite their slightly misshapen forms. “I meant to ask you why you decided to name your company Lofn Wellness.”
"How familiar are you with Norse mythology?" she asked.
He smiled at her. "I work for a company named after the god who keeps vigilance from where the rainbow bridge meets the sky. He watches for invaders of Asgard and the onset of Ragnarök."
"Okay," her lips twitched. "I guess what I should ask is how familiar you are with Norse goddesses."
“I know the main goddesses, but not much about the minor ones. Lofn is the goddess of comfort and love, right? Is that how you think of your company, loving and offering comfort?"
Her lips stretched into a full smile. "That's part of it. Lofn also arranges unions between people who have been forbidden to marry by society's rules or authorities. She is the goddess of forbidden love."
He tilted his head, squinting at her. "Wellness is forbidden?"
"No." She shook her head. "Nobody has anything against people being fit. But for individuals who identify as women, society makes it really hard for us to accept ourselves as enough. There are so many rules about what size we should be, what hairstyle we should wear, and even about how we should behave. One of the forbidden loves in our culture is a woman loving herself fully without feeling the need to change herself according to the norms and constraints society puts on her."
"But aren't you contradicting yourself if you're selling fitness with a message that people don't have to change? Isn't working out about changing yourself?"
Of course, he would go there. Most men did. “I hear this argument a lot, but not from many women.” A half-smile played on Regie's lips.
“I’d hate to be repeating what dense men ask all the time. Please explain it to me, though.” His words were playful, but his face looked serious. He looked as if he wanted to truly understand.