Page 25 of The Banker

“No, I just saw the concert hall, the backstage area and the reception building. My stepfather got a tour while I had iced tea with Billy and Ana inside the venue.”

His gaze lingers on me for a few seconds while a range of emotions seem to glide across his face. Surprise, followed by annoyance, followed by resignation.

“Aren’t CIA operatives supposed to have good poker faces?”

He drops his head in exasperation, then flips it back up, showcasing a heart-stopping smile. “It was always a weakness.”

I turn away and busy myself with the banana skin, feeling my appetite slowly disappear. “Well, is that ok?”

“Of course,” he replies. “It’s a beautiful island. It will be my pleasure to show it to you.”

My chest flutters again and I force the banana down with a glug of juice.

“Great. Well, let’s go,” I say, putting the juice box back in the refrigerator.

He snaps the top of his laptop closed and gets to his feet. I notice he’s wearing the exact same uniform as last night—a black suit, shiny shoes, and an earpiece.

“Can you wear something else?” I ask.

He looks confused for minute. “Like what?”

“Like, something less formal. You’ll roast in this heat.”

“I’m a bodyguard,” he sighs. “This is what we wear.”

“No,” I correct. “You’remybodyguard, and you will wear what I ask you to.” I smile, cheekily, so he knows I’m not pulling rank. “Something more casual. You may as well be wearing a neon arrow sign pointing right at me. I don’t need people spotting a celebrity from the other side of the island.”

His jaw clicks and that damn flutter starts up again. “Whatever you say, ma’am,” he bites out and walks back towards his suite.

“And you can stop that right now, too,” I call after him. “Ma’am makes me feel like an eighty-year-old grandmother.”

He ignores me and returns a minute later wearing something that takes the breath right out of my throat. Calf-length combat trousers, large black training shoes and a fitted back t-shirt with the SKS logo emblazoned across the front. I can see the sharply cut outline of his upper body, and it has made my mouth dry. Finally, I know what this is, what this freaking flutter is telling me. I’m attracted to my bodyguard. I mentally kick myself.What a damn cliché you are Aurelia Bird. And what the hell have you done? You’ve just agreed to live with this guy for the next three months and you’ve got a freaking crush on him. Plus, he’s old enough to be… well, ok, not my father, but not far off.

I finally find my voice. “That’s more like it,” I mutter. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t smile at my reaction, but his eyes do, and they taunt me for a few seconds before he opens the door and steps out onto the boardwalk, then he stops sharp and I walk straight into his solid back. My forehead smacks against his shoulder blade.

“Ow!” I say, rubbing my head. When he steps to one side, I see why he’d pulled up so abruptly. A woman, about my height, older but beautiful, is standing opposite us, staring at Isaac. Her expression is indecipherable but they look at each other for a long time before she finally speaks.

“Isaac,” she says, simply.

“Mrs. Navitsky,” he replies. I hear something like an apology in his voice, but it doesn’t make sense. Her eyes dart to me and she looks me up and down with the merest hint of a sneer on her lips.

“Aurelia Bird,” she states.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, holding out my hand. She takes my fingers, limply, then whips her hand back, as though I’ve burned her. She says nothing further, but looks back to Isaac and clenches her jaw, before spinning around to the sound of a door closing in the next villa along. A large, blonde man with a hard expression walks towards us. Mrs. Navitsky takes his hand, he nods to Isaac and they walk together down the boardwalk, both looking distinctly unhappy, neither of them looking back.

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