Page 88 of Close Protection

The sun shines bright in my eyes as I stir awake, feeling Milosh’s chest rising and falling below me. Yesterday, just as Milosh said, two men showed up at the cottage. One was a sketch artist and one was from Interpol, here to take Ryan away for further questioning. The sketch artist was remarkably talented and managed to draw the necklace so that it looked almost exactly as I described it, so I’m feeling pretty good about the plan. Milosh explained to me that after they find the location where my family is being kept, a specialist firearms command unit will breach.

When Milosh spoke with his major he set up a safe house for us to stay in until this is over. Davis also told us that he’d send a car to take us, the sketch artist and the Interpol team up to the safe house. After the team left we packed up our things and took the car, driving back to England where the safe house is.

We got here late last night and crashed on the sofa, sticking in one of the DVDs we took from the cottage before promptly falling asleep. All we need to do now is sit and wait for everything to come together and hopefully I’ll see everyone again soon.

Now, I sit up off of Milosh and start massaging the crook of my neck. After a few minutes, I hear Milosh start to stir.

‘Good morning.’ I smile, looking back at him.

He flashes a sweet unguarded smile in return before speaking, his voice deep from sleep. ‘Good morning, Miss Green.’ He sits up and stretches his neck, and I can practically see the tension in his delts.

Leaning back, I bring my hands around his shoulders and start kneading into them. I work on the knots until they melt away, then move on to his back, languidly trailing my fingers up and down.

‘Feel better?’ I ask after five minutes.

‘Feels amazing, baby, even though I should’ve been the one doing that to you, given it’s your birthday and all.’

I pause. ‘How did you know it’s my birthday?’

‘It’s my job to know everything about you, Miss Green.’ He rises and walks over to his duffel, fishing something out.

‘Here.’ He pushes a small box into my hand and comes to sit back down.

‘You got me a gift?’

‘It’s only small,’ he states gruffly.

My heart blooms when I carefully open the box to reveal a light pink fob watch.

‘For when you start wearing scrubs,’ he explains.

I bite down on my lower lip and fight the tears that are threatening to invade my face. There’s no way he could’ve bought this yesterday; which means he must have got it before we even officialized everything, before we even spoke about my career choices at the gala, and purposefully packed it in his bag when we were rushing out of the house amidst all the stress and worry.

‘I think… I think I’ll be able to get good use out of this.’ I wrap my arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around my waist.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper into his neck, the first tear falling silently. ‘Thank you so much, Milo. This means more to me than you could ever imagine.’

‘I’m glad. Happy birthday, Daphne.’

We stay like this for a moment as I start silently sobbing. When Milosh realizes what’s happening he pulls away to look at me, worry lining his face.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ His thumb comes to my cheek, drying my tears.

‘Nothing, I just… I think this is gonna work out. You and me.’

He smiles fully and it’s absolutely devastating. ‘I think so too.’

My tongue juts out to lick my bottom lip and his gaze darkens as he follows the movement. ‘You want me to make you some bacon and pancakes?’

‘Yes, please,’ I answer. ‘I’ll have a quick shower while you do it.’

‘Okay.’

Neither of us moves.

Milosh’s eyes are still lingering on my lips with a hungry gaze. A gaze that I don’t think even bacon and pancakes could fix.

‘Are you going to kiss me, Mr Petrov, or are you going to stare at me all day?’

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