Page 23 of The Bodyguard

Seven

I’ve been in work since five-thirty this morning. I couldn’t sleep, my mind’s too full of shit I don’t really want to think about. This ongoing charade I’m being forced to take part in. So having to drag Bodie in with me at some ungodly hour because this is where I needed to be, well, that gave me a tiny element of satisfaction, no matter how childish it might seem.

The breakfast meeting is over now, and I have two new contracts with two new councils in the bag and teams already on their way to carry out inspections on prospective building sites. Not a bad morning’s work all round. I’m pretty pleased with myself, and keeping busy has managed to take my mind off everything else, even if that’s nothing more than a temporary measure.

A light tap on my open office door causes me to look up. It’s Bodie. Of course it’s Bodie. He’s clutching two mugs of coffee, which I’m guessing he made himself in the kitchen down the hall.

He leans against the doorpost and throws me a grin. I just frown.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting to be invited in.”

“You’ve never waited to be invited in before.”

“You looked like you were busy.”

“I am. So, if you’re going to be hanging around here can you sit over there and not bother me?”

I jerk my head in the direction of the couches at the other end of the office, and he lets out a low whistle as he walks further into the room. “And I had you down as a nice boss.”

I look up at him. “I am. But you’re not an employee.”

He smiles at me, and I ignore the weird sensation in my gut. That croissant and coffee I had earlier was nowhere near enough for breakfast.

“Well, technically I am, but…” He shrugs and kicks the door shut, setting one of the mugs of coffee down on my desk.

“Thank you.” I drop my gaze back down to the email I was writing, but out the corner of my eye I see Bodie sit down on the arm of one of the couches.

“Have you always worked for your family?”

I look up again. “I don’t workforthe family, we all work together. We own all of this.” I finally press ‘send’ on that email and sit back in my chair, spinning it around to look out of the window. The weather’s a little overcast today, a little cooler than of late. But it’s still busy down on the Quayside.

“So, are you ready for tomorrow night?”

I spin my chair back around to face Bodie, and he’s giving me that smirk again, his hands clasped together, he’s actually verging on smug. Which is annoying. It’s like he can just flick a switch, I swear, I can’t get a handle on him. I just can’t do it. There are times when he seems like this really nice guy, like he’s opening up, starting to relax, and then there are other times, like now, when he just seems to ramp up that slightly cocky side to him. “Tomorrow night?”

“The charity dinner. Our first proper night out as a couple.” He accompanies the wordcouplewith air quotes as he gets up and comes over to my desk, perching his arse on the edge of it, his blue eyes locking on mine.

“It’s all make-believe, remember?” I smile at him as he removes his arse from my desk, stands up and slides his hands into his pockets, and I have to say, he is rocking that suit today. It’s dark grey in color, and he’s teamed it with an open-necked white shirt, his hair swept back off his face.

“There isn’t a chance we’re ever going to be able to forget that.” The smile he gives me back is tinged with a hint of sarcasm, but he’s smiling way more now than he did when he first got here, just a handful of days ago. In fact, I’m starting to think he might actually be enjoying this now. Christ knows why.

“What happened to bodyguards lying low, hmm? Remaining inconspicuous?” I’m changing the subject because, to be honest, I don’t really want to think about tomorrow night. It’s one of the biggest events my family hosts – one of the good things my father does for the community he now calls home. His adopted city. His adopted country.

“Not always easy to do.” Bodie leans back against the wall, his hands still in his pockets, his ankles crossed. It’s an ultra-relaxed stance. It would appear he’s getting more comfortable in his new role, which is more than can be said for me. But I am trying. I am. “And under these circumstances? Even less so. Your father’s reluctant for you to be out of my sight.”

“Yeah. I know.” I get up and go over to the wall of windows, my gaze falling on the Tyne Bridge and the steady flow of traffic streaming across it. And then I glance back over my shoulder to check the time on the oversized clock on the wall opposite. It’s almost twelve-thirty. “I need some air.”

“We could go grab some lunch?”

“I don’t have that much of an appetite.”

“A drink, then?”

“Yeah. Okay. I could definitely do with one of those.”

“Come on, then. Let’s get out of here.”

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