Page 31 of Seducing Hope (The Hope Legacy)

I roll my eyes so hard I glimpse my own ass. “Dear god, is that the best you’ve got?”

He gazes down my body. “Not even close.”

Harry appears before us and wordlessly starts mixing my peach schnapps. “A bottle of water, too, please, Harry.”

Harry hands me my drink. “No problem, Natia.” I catch the tic in Archan’s jaw and grin. Mixing my drink with a straw, I turn, only to be greeted by a wall of muscled chests. I freeze and swallow reflexively. Where the hell did they all come from? A girl likes to feel special, but not cornered. I put my drink down, my senses on high alert and my body bracing itself for a fight.

Archan puts a hand on my shoulder. “Relax, I just want to chat, and I have brought a few friends for you to meet.” He introduces a man of about six-foot-four. What are they feeding these men? He has short, cropped, dark hair and deep brown eyes. He gives me a lopsided grin.

“This is Barney, my head of intelligence.” Barney raises his beer bottle in a silent greeting. He moves on to the next man. “You have already met Zac; he is head of security.”

I raise a hand in a small wave. “Nice to see you again, Zac.”

He smiles, but it looks more like a grimace, with hostility still lining it. “And you, Natia.”

I turn to the last man. At six feet, he’s relatively short in comparison to the rest of them. He has light gray eyes, short ice-blond hair, and an athlete’s body.

He raises his hand to shake mine. “I’m Nathan. It’s nice to meet you.” The slightest tingle of pain jumps across my hand as I shake his. I try not to react.

“And what are you head of?”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Acquisitions.” Well, that’s a little less intimidating than the other two.

Leaning my back against the bar, I twist to look at Archan. “What would you like to talk about?”

“I would like to get to know you more.” He leans against the bar next to me and fixes me with that dangerous stare.

“Ah, well if that’s all, then I like long walks on the beach, Italian food, and picnics in the park.”

The men chuckle.

Archan ignores them. “How about why you stopped dancing and joined your uncle’s security firm?” I stop breathing for a few seconds. That’s a very specific question. I make sure to follow the song playing in the bar to reinforce my shields. Shit, did I forget to do that on the dance floor?

“Dancing didn’t give me the necessary intelligence to become a useful member of society,” I spout, throwing his words back at him.

He pierces me with a look. “I disagree. Watching you dance tonight has been an education. Not much surprises me, and even less makes me change my mind. But your passion should be shown to the world. Why did you quit?”

He’s not going to let it drop, so I answer with honesty. The best lies hold elements of truth. I look at the floor to disguise my emotions. “I adore my grandparents, but when my grandmother died, I became distant from my grandfather, and I already don’t speak to my mom and dad. I felt alone in New York—it’s a world away from home, so I decided to come back. Uncle Charlie offered me a job. I’ve been able to reconnect with my grandfather and build a life that involves my family.”

When I look at Archan, numerous emotions pass over his face: distrust, anger, confusion, and the last thing I would expect—empathy.

Zac interrupts our staring. “What do youdoexactly?”

“Uncle Charlie invested in training me to become a security officer. He knew I would get restless in an office job. I love my job.” I’m proud of myself for reciting my prepared answer. It deflects the question, and most people don’t realize I haven’t answered it, yet it’s still the truth.

But Zac isn’t fooled, and he all but rolls his stormy eyes at me. “He trained you to do what, exactly?” Archan slides a hand around my waist and draws me to his side, resting it just below my hip. Heat spreads around my stomach then brushes the underside of my breasts. I hitch in a breath, and the liquid heat that pooled in my lower belly earlier is back.

I know what he’s doing, and I hate him for it. I’d prefer the traditional methods of torture. Kidnapping, beating, fingernail pulling, teeth being taken out, someone even threatened to cut off my hair once. I admit, I reacted to that one… Does that make me vain?

This is a seduction to get me to spill my secrets and destroy my shields. Zac repeats the question, raising an eyebrow. They think they’ve broken me with this crazy sensation torture. They’ve underestimated me.

“I protect people from bad things,” I declare.

Nathan, who watches the exchange with calculating eyes, asks, “What kind of bad things?” I’ve slipped up. People aren’t protected from things—they’re protected from other people.

“Murderers, rapists, kidnappers—”

Barney interrupts me, “Those are people, not things.”

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