Page 10 of The Knight

“Not now, Sylvie.” Einar took refuge behind the oval meeting desk and steepled his hands on the polished wood. “This team, Freya, is beyond reproach.”

“I already have a team, Einar. One that I chose.”

“This is no longer about your choice, Freya. The sooner you accept what management wants, the easier both our lives will be.”

Freya gripped her elbows so tightly it verged on painful. “Management? You mean the same pencil-pushers who couldn’t tell a quantum algorithm from a grocery list?” She exhaled a shaky breath. “Do you realize the statistical improbability of a security breach with my chosen team? Based on their collective experience and my implemented protocols, I have calculated the likelihood of an unsuccessful transfer is less than 1%. That’s a 99% success rate, Einar. How can management justify overriding those odds?”

Einar pinched the bridge of his nose. “Freya, I know this is upsetting. You spent a lot of time choosing your security team, but this is out of my hands. Out of both of our hands. So please?—”

Clearly, Einar wouldn’t listen to factual reasoning. “You want to entrust its safety to men whose idea of problem-solving probably involves punching things and shouting Hoo-rah?”

A deliberate cough sliced through the air. “Hi...”

6

Freya whirled around.

Sylvie waved a hand to show the men in the doorway into the room. “They just arrived, sir.”

The doorway framed two imposing men. An aura of quiet competence radiated from their stance. They were dressed in black tactical gear, their boots polished to a military-grade shine.

The closer one sported a wild beard threaded with silver, below startlingly blue eyes that were sharp and assessing.

His companion, taller and equally formidable, studied her, his face a mask of professional neutrality. He was a big man, six-feet-four, she guessed, with dark skin and keen brown eyes. Her scientific mind couldn’t help but catalog his features: strong jawline, high cheekbones, full lips—objectively speaking, he was extremely handsome.

What am I doing?

She should look away, but she couldn’t.

I’m a scientist. I’m trained to notice details. Like his smile.

He was smiling at her right now. A slow, confident curve of his lips that radiated charm in mega-watt proportions.

It’s just a smile and what I’m feeling is a completely ordinary physiological response to a symmetrical face. Nothing more.

But these men who looked like they’d escaped from a Bond novel were undoubtedly the security team she’d just finished insulting.Within earshot.

Freya lifted her chin. There wasn’t room for niceties where her work was concerned and if that meant a few bruised egos, so be it. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, gentlemen. No offense was intended. Just an observation of facts.”

“None taken.” The taller of the men drawled.

She shifted, uncrossing her arms, then crossing them again. No position felt comfortable, and her cheeks were inexplicably hot. This was most unlike her.

Einar broke the tense silence. “Ah, gentlemen. Impeccable timing. Freya, meet your new security detail.”

The man with the beard stepped forward, his voice smooth. “Dr. Jonsdottir, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Thom Fox, and this is my colleague, Abe Knight.”

Sylvie, watching the whole debacle from the corner of Einar’s office, let out a small, appreciative sigh. “Oh my, your English accent is lush.”

Freya shot Sylvie a withering glare.

“Sylvie. Perhaps coffee?” Einar smoothed tufts of hair on the top of his head.

Sylvie bobbed and exited the room, but not before giving both men a final appreciative once over.

Seriously?Freya swallowed a sigh of her own as she directed her attention back to the bearded man.Thom Fox.

“Just Freya is fine. We rarely use surnames in Iceland.”

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