Page 15 of Dragon Bodyguard
“What errand does she have in the city?” Misha asked.
There was a brief pause. “I believe she mentioned doing some shopping.”
Misha closed his eyes, clenched his teeth once, twice.
For fuck’s sake.
“Right,” he said. “Of course. I’ll be there in two minutes. Put Craig in the bulletproof.”
“I’m afraid the elder Mr. Kuznetsov already took that this morning.”
“Of course he did.”
The bulletproof Cadillac was one of two armored vehicles on the premises. Dmitri would be in the other one as he never slept for more than a few hours, heading out long before dawn to do any nightly meetings. The sit-down that had been arranged between Dmitri, Ilya and their uncle Nikolai had been scheduled for five in the morning. Dragons enjoyed those early hours. They found it auspicious to watch the sun rise on a new day when striking business deals. Even amongst family.
Misha scoffed lightly, mind back on the issue at hand.
“The Rolls, then,” he said. “At least we can give her the chance to arrive to the shops in a bit of style, eh?”
Mrs. Barley huffed a laugh, agreed. They hung up.
Grand. This was going to be interesting. Or excruciating. Or both in equal measure. He didn’t want to see her, but he also couldn’t even think of letting her go on an excursion without proper protection. In his experience, a Kuznetsova was never safe. It was how he’d gotten so damn good at his job: endless practice.
To avoid any unnecessary bump-ins with the woman now officially in his care, he walked around the sprawling house, rather than through it, to reach the garage. He checked his gun, making sure it was loaded correctly before tucking it back in its holster. It rested by his ribs, easily accessible under his jacket and entirely hidden from view.
The driver—Oliver—was walking around the car, inspecting it. It was routine, not only to check for any unwanted blemishes but to double-check that everything was in working order. When he’d first begun training with Ilya’s household detail, he’d thought the practice a tad redundant for such already tightly run security, but he’d learned never to put his full faith in anyone. Not even the men he considered brothers, those he thought would never betray him or their employer. The value of such a practice had been proven to him when the house had come under attack through nothing less of a mutiny conducted by fellow dragons he would never have pegged for traitors.
One could never know, was the truth of it. And so, he kept his guard up at all times.
He got into the passenger seat as Oliver slid into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. They glanced at each other.
“Anyone else joining you?” Oliver asked. He meant if there would be another bodyguard in the car.
“There’s no one to spare,” Misha shrugged. “If she wants to go shopping, better take her shopping. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Quick in and out.”
“If you say so.”
“Hey, if I could convince her not to go, I would. Trust me when I tell you, once this woman has gotten something into her head, even the hounds of hell couldn’t make her change her mind.”
Oliver smiled crookedly at the observation, the electric door of the garage opening to reveal the driveway beyond. And her as she slowly came into view. She was waiting on the steps, watching as the car rolled up. She couldn’t see him through the tinted windows and slipped into the backseat without much of a greeting. She clipped her seatbelt in.
They sat in welcomed silence as Oliver pulled out of the driveway and onto the asphalted road taking them to the main gates of the estate.
Misha was fairly certain that she had no idea he was the one occupying the seat in front of her. It would have been left that way for the duration of their two-hour drive to the city if she hadn’t addressed him.
“Excuse me, how far is it?” she asked.
He waited for Oliver to respond, but Oliver didn’t. It seemed he didn’t feel it was part of his duties to make conversation with the guests. Perhaps they seldom made any. Also, Misha outranked him. The duty to provide necessary information should fall to him. He’d just hoped keeping silent would prompt Oliver to speak in his stead.
It didn’t.
“Just a little under two hours,” Misha therefore replied.
The silence grew thick with unspoken words. And shocked surprise, he assumed.
Yes, my darling, don’t you worry yourself. If I could be anywhere but here, that’s where I’d be.
“I’m sorry, why are you here?” she asked.
