Page 8 of Don't Bite The Boss
“Security?” I frown back at him, “why would you need security?”
‘Wait, did he say he has enemies?’
“Pru, I’m a billionaire, and moving into the property business, in Italy,” he laughs, “I’d be a fool not to have security.”
“Are you in danger?” I cock my head to one side and study him.
“Not specifically,” he shrugs, “anyway, the doors are opening, we can talk more when we get to the palazzo.”
I frown and follow him down the steps of the jet – something, I can’t put my finger on it, something doesn’t ring true in what he just said to me. Nevertheless, all thoughts of this are swept away when I see two limousines waiting for us on the tarmac.
“Two?” I turn as my boss heads off to the first, and the driver beckons me to the second.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Tristan says as he reaches his ride and leans on the door momentarily to turn and face me.
I nod and step into the limousine waiting for me.
“Of course, the text,” I shake my head, “he ordered this the moment I told him I didn’t want him close.”
As we pull out, the driver depresses the small tinted window between us and asks if I need anything.
“Uh, yes, I’d like to stop at a bar in Naples before we head to the palazzo,” I say sweetly, “for a quick drink.”
He nods and turns in the opposite direction to the way Tristan’s car went, as I lean back into the plush leather seat and peruse the pale leather interior, which features, among other things, a small bar with every known expensive alcoholic beverage – but its not that kind of drink I need.
4
The rooms I have been assigned at the palazzo, a wing actually, look out onto my own private pool, cocooned within a dense high hedge of conifer on three sides, broken by only one small wrought iron gate on the northern side.
“Beautiful,” I sigh, as the last of the night’s stars, illuminated on the water, disappear behind a cover of dense cloud.
I’d like to take a swim, the night is so still and warm, but the sun will rise shortly, and I must sleep. Thankfully, Tristan has thought of everything. My room is completely light-tight. It was the first thing I’d checked upon entering.
Now, reluctantly turning back indoors, I close the blinds, unbutton my pants, and habitually check the pockets as I walk through to the bathroom towards the basket marked ‘laundry’ – stiffening as my fingers close around his handkerchief, his scent filling the room when I pull it from my pocket.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, pushing my nose into it and inhaling deeply, “you smell divine, Tristan Berrington.”
Catching my reflection in the bathroom mirror, fangs fully extended, I shake my head and throw the offending square of linen into the laundry. Turning on the shower, I luxuriate in the hard needles of cold water as they pound down my back. But my fangs are still out when I step out and wrap the thick, fluffy white towel around my torso, and another around my head.
On a whim, I bend down and retrieve the handkerchief and sniff it again. “This is going to take some getting used to,” I moan, as I head to the giant bed taking pride of place in the centre of the room, handkerchief in hand, “so I may as well start trying to become immune to your scent.”
Lying down, I shove the handkerchief under my pillow and let out a sigh of contentment as the starched white sheets cover my nakedness. Tristan knows I only work at night, so I’m not feeling uncomfortable or guilty about sleeping through what promises to be such a beautiful, clear day. I promise myself I’ll have a swim tomorrow evening under the moon, once I’ve finished work, and feeling content and comfortable, snuggle down.
Just as I’m about to close my eyes, the phone rings.
Reaching over to the bedside table closest to me and picking up the heavy handset, I answer.
“Yes.”
“I’ve filled the fridge with blood bags for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t eat the cabana boy.”
“Tristan, what the hell?”
“I just thought I better let you know, he’s the son of the stonemason I’ve hired to work under Nick on my villa. It’s a small community, I’d hate to have to explain if you snacked on him.”
