Page 35 of The Bodyguard

She frowns. She can sense a vulnerability now, sense a nerve’s been hit, because it has, and that’s my fault. I should never have come down this road, got too close, no personal shit should ever have come out, no matter how vague.

She pulls her hand away and sits back, and I too retreat back into the comfortable booth in this pretty little restaurant. I think this is another of her regular haunts, she’s on first name terms with most of the staff. And I find it strange, given who her father is, the fine line he walks every day between just-on-the-edge-of-legitimate and the dark underworld he inhabits for the most part – I find it odd that he’s happy about her being so out there. So high-profile. But maybe she’s his cover. His smokescreen. The prolific daughter running a hugely successful business, started by daddy but built by her. The perfect front. But he’s a very clever man, Mikkel Nielsen. He’ll know there are people watching him. He’ll know.

“Are you sure you don’t want a proper drink?”

Her voice pulls me back to the present, and I look at her, she really does look beautiful tonight, even with that strand of melted cheese that’s caught on her lip. And I lean forward again and pull it off, wiping my fingers on a napkin.

“Oh, Jesus, really?” She looks embarrassed, but she needn’t be. It’s funny. It’s nice, actually, to see someone like her not afraid to completely be herself, but then again, who is she trying to impress? Certainly not me. She doesn’t need to impress me.

“It’s fine.” I laugh, because I want her to feel comfortable around me otherwise this isn’t going to work. Any of it.

She picks up her drink and takes another sip, her gaze now focused on the street outside, the people walking past, mainly groups of young people, it’s Saturday night, after all.

“How much do you really know about what my father and brother are doing?” she asks, almost to herself because she’s still staring outside. She isn’t looking at me.

“I was hired to be your bodyguard, to keep you safe, that’s all the information I’ve been given.”

And that’s the truth. Sort of.

Her head’s still turned away from me, her eyes still staring outside, I’m not even sure if she heard me.

“I just want to go home.” Her voice is almost a whisper, and again I’m not sure she was directing that comment at anyone in particular, she’s just thinking out loud, I’m guessing.

“I know.”

She’s back facing me now, and her eyes, she’s almost pleading with me. And if the circumstances were different, if there was any other way we could do this… There isn’t. It has to be this way. Anything else just won’t work.

“Jesus!” She sighs, throwing her head back, and it’s like she’s flicked a switch. And I have to admit, she does petulant very well, but it isn’t always a good look on someone her age. “How long is this shit really going to go on for?”

She’s frustrated, I get that. I’m frustrated, too. I’d rather be much farther forward than this but her father’s giving us nothing to work with; little more than zero to go on.

“You not eating the rest of that pizza?” I’m looking for a way back in now. A way to get her back on-side, to where we were before, it’s important we get back to that level. She needs to trust me. And, most importantly, I need to trust her.

She looks at me, and there’s still a coldness in her eyes, and I think it’s a barrier more than anything. A shield she’s pulling up to protect herself. It’s her way of dealing with a situation that’s out of her control.

“I’m going to ask them to bag it up for me. Sometimes there’s nothing nicer than cold pizza for breakfast.”

I hold her gaze, and she doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t let her expression waver, and I smile at her. “A woman after my own heart.”

She tries not to smile back, tries to keep that stoic expression in place, but she finally cracks. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Home?”

She shrugs as she beckons one of the waiters over. “I suppose so. Unless you want to go back to the charity dinner?”

“Do you?”

She pulls a face. “God, no! It’ll be nice to spend a bit of time in that house without everybody else getting in the way.”

Yes. Yes, it will.

~~~

“I don’t remember inviting you in.”

She opens the fridge, puts the packaged-up left-over pizza inside, and takes out a half-empty bottle of wine.

“I’m not leaving you alone until somebody else gets home.” I lean back against the counter and fold my arms.

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