Page 17 of The Bodyguard

“Not particularly.”

“Let’s go out. Grab some lunch.”

“I just said, I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, well, I am. Come on. Some time out will do you good.”

What would do me good would be to forget this wasn’t happening and get back to normal. Or whatever normal was before this man walked – uninvited – into my life. But I’m well aware that I’m rapidly losing control of a situation I never really had any control over in the first place. And that scares me. That really fucking scares me…

~~~

“I’m going to hazard a guess here and say that this isn’t your usual kind of job.” I snap off a piece of poppadom and use it to scoop up some lime pickle. I wasn’t hungry when we left the office, but as soon as we sat down at our table here at The Cardamom Tree, a popular Indian restaurant just a few minutes’ walk from work, the fabulous smells and the sight of mouth-watering plates of food being delivered to customers got the better of me.

“You have no idea what my usual kind of job is.” Bodie sits back in his seat, placing his fork down on his almost empty plate.

We lock eyes, and I smile slightly. “So, tell me.”

He shakes his head, and smiles back. “It’s boring.”

“I bet it isn’t,” I sigh, scooping up the last of the lime pickle with another shard of poppadom. “So, now we’re a fake-couple, does that mean you’re going to be hanging around the office a lot more?”

“Probably.”

“That’s something to look forward to, then.”

I accompany that remark with an eye roll, but he just smirks, I think he might finally be getting used to my sarcasm.

“You must really regret taking on this job now, huh?”

“I already told you, all I do is follow orders. I do the job I’ve been given, I don’t get a choice in the matter. And, to be fair, I’d actually say this one is getting more interesting as the days go on.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “And I’ve never been one to turn down a challenge.”

“Is that what I am? A challenge?”

“I never actually saidyouwere the challenge.”

“But I am, right?”

I smile. So does he.

“Anyway, I still think all of this is unnecessary. Unless you can convince me otherwise?”

He sits back again, laughs quietly, and shakes his head. “Yeah, your dad warned me about this.”

“About what?”

His eyes lock on mine, and I have no idea why my stomach’s doing what it’s doing now. I’ve just finished a particularly large portion of lamb bhuna and fried onion pilau rice, I’m nowhere near hungry anymore. I’m only eating the last of this poppadom because I feel the need to do something with my hands.

“About you, pushing me to tell you why I need to be here.”

“If you think I’m going to stop you’ve been badly misled.”

“I can’t tell you anything, Lena. Really, I can’t.”

“Would you, if you could?”

“Just let me do my job. Okay?”

I sit back, keep my eyes fixed on his. And there are still so many questions I want to ask him, but this isn’t really the time or the place so I leave it. But I can’t promise it’ll stay that way.