Page 27 of Close Protection

‘I don’t care if you’ve been in this house since birth,you’re not going,’ he says, sliding my keys into his back pocket and heading for the fridge.

‘But why not? You’re okay with me going to the gala in two weeks but not this?’

The Greenway Group hosts an annual summer charity gala, supporting a different cause every year. It’s invite-only and is one of the highlights of my summer. Everyone dresses in extravagant ballgowns and tuxedos, there’s great food and I get to meet up with a lot of my family and friends that I don’t see when I’m away at school. This year the Greenway Group are supporting the British Deaf Association.

‘The gala has tight, well-monitored security, an exclusive guestlist and well-vetted staff. Whereas the mall has hundreds of unknowns, thousands of people and no screening process.’

‘Well, I think…’ I turn at the sound of Daddy’s voice as he enters the kitchen from his study. We haven’t spoken since dinner last night and on instinct I tense up, ready to call it a day and head back up to my room to avoid another argument. ‘… you should go.’

‘I’m sorry, what?’ I say, not bothering to hide the surprise in my voice. Normally when my father and I have a disagreement we have a cooling-off period then go back to normal. But whatever’s been happening recently has caused that cooling-off period to lengthen. It continues tobe extended with every new disagreement we have. And lately, that’s been a lot.

‘I think you and Milosh should go out. You’ve been through a lot recently and it’s only fair you have a little fun.’ He comes to stand on the other side of the island to where Milosh and I are. Facing me, but still keeping his distance, with a conflicted look on his face.

‘Daphne, darling, I’m really sorry about the way I’ve been acting lately,’ he continues. ‘First in your room, and then last night. This whole break-in thing has caused me so much stress and I’ve really taken it out on the wrong people… well, person. I don’t want to cause a rift between us, especially at a time like this. You don’t have to forgive me now, or at all, but I just wanted to get that off my chest.’ He looks everywhere but at me, fiddling with his hands like someone just gave them to him.

‘Oh,’ he adds, ‘if it helps, shopping is on me.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing me his credit card.

‘Daddy, shopping was always going to be on you, but thank you for the gesture,’ I say, meeting his eyes and giving him a small smile. ‘And thank you for your apology, I appreciate it.’

He retreats to his study with a hesitant small nod, and I turn my attention back to Milosh who’s been leaningagainst the counter silently watching the scene unfold.

‘See, Daddy says we can go.’ I hold up the card, walking over to stand in front of him. ‘He even sponsored the event.’

‘No, Daphne.’

It’s really hard to be annoyed at him when he says my name like that.

Deep, gruff and strong.

I move closer to him, settling my hand on his forearm to draw his full attention to me. ‘Please, Milosh, only for a couple of hours?’ I blink up at him as he slowly takes a gulp of his water, eyes never leaving mine.

I hold his eyes, running my nails up his arm ever-so gently, making gentle patterns against his skin.

‘Two hours. That’s all you get.’

My eyes light up at his answer and I give his arm a gentle squeeze. ‘Thank you!’ I swipe the bottle from his hands. ‘You can drink that in the car, come on.’

Milosh follows me out of the door that leads to the garage. ‘Which one’s yours?’ he asks, gesturing to the line of cars that fills the space. Most of the staff who drive to work park along the private street, so the cars in here belong to either Amelia and Henry, me or my father.

In front of us right now are Amelia and Henry’s Audi, my light-pink custom-made Sharpay Evans-inspired Greenway Motors estate, two of Daddy’s sports cars – oneGreenway Motors and the other McLaren – the Bentley our driver uses and the family Rolls.

Yes, my Uncle Jonathan runs the Greenway Motors side of the Greenway Group, but that doesn’t mean all of our cars have to be Greenways.

‘Take a wild guess, Mr Petrov.’ I smirk. His unimpressed expression amuses me as he unlocks the car, slipping into the driver’s seat. I don’t argue because honestly, I hate driving, and I slip into the passenger seat beside him. I watch as he buckles his seatbelt, mirroring his actions as I soften my voice.

‘Thank you for agreeing to this, by the way,’ I say sincerely. He studies me for a second before nodding curtly and starting the car. ‘I really do appreciate it,’ I finish, placing my hand gently on his as he puts the car into drive.

‘It’s no problem, Miss Green. Let’s just get in and out quickly. I’m guessing you want to go to the Greenway mall?’ I nod and lift my hand off his, as we pull out of the driveway.

My grandfather, Hezekiah Green, founded the Greenway Group when he was a teen. Since then it’s grown into a pretty large conglomerate, splitting off into four groups, each with one of his children in charge. Daddy runs Greenway Discoveries, Uncle Leo runs theGreenway Hotel Group and Properties, Uncle Jonathan runs Greenway Motors and Auntie Emily runs Greenway Aviation. There’s recently been talk between the cousins about a fifth Greenway sector opening up, but nothing’s been confirmed. All of the grandchildren – me included – have been groomed since birth to take over their parents’ sectors and while some of us love it and are eager for it, others aren’t. I’m in the latter category. I’ve decided to go a different route and study Midwifery.

Now that’s arealsore point for my father, so I bring it up as little as possible.

Bored of the silence, I ask the question that’s been bugging me since Milosh arrived.

‘What exactly are you, Mr Petrov?’

‘What?’

---