crack the long silence as they drove out of the city. ‘What should I call you?’
‘What did you call your last protection?’ he finally grunted.
‘Russell it is, then,’ she said, smiling. ‘What are the odds?’
Dark sunglasses turned her way, just slightly. ‘You can call me Brad, Ms Blaise.’
‘You know that Blaise is a stage name, right? First and last name all in one. Like Madonna. Or Bono. Apparently that was a thing in the eighties.’
‘I assumed.’
But maybe he remembered the vast quantities of money that she was spending on this trip, because he spoke again and this time it was longer than three syllables. ‘Would you prefer a different surname?’
‘I’d prefer no surname at all, actually.’ Ha! Like father like daughter.
‘Okay. Seraphina.’
‘God no! That’s as much of a show name as Blaise. Pretty sure Dad’s publicist picked it.’ Forgetting that a little girl needed to live with it.
His lips pressed more tightly together within the architectural facial hair. ‘What do you call yourself?’
‘Sera.’
‘Fine. How about we set some ground rules, Sera?’
She’d had a gutful of alpha-male types. They could tie her in knots way too easily. ‘You know...you sure are shovey about how things need to be.’
‘Establishing parameters is necessary. I have a job to do.’
She opened the console fridge between them in the back seat and cracked the lid on one of several frosty bottles of water she found there. ‘I’m not sure how parameters are going to go with me. Didn’t you read my file? There must have been a note.’
From her father. Or Russell. Or the security detail before him. Her tutor before that. Any of her nannies. How far back did he want to go?
‘There were quite a number of notes, in fact.’
And he struck her as a man who would have read them all. ‘I do like to think of myself as noteworthy.’
Again, no reaction to speak of. Just that steady, impermeable, infuriating, Polaroid regard pointed firmly at the road ahead.
‘How about I set the first parameter, Brad?’ she went on.
‘Go ahead.’
‘What say whenever any one of us has something to say to the other we remove our sunglasses and make actual eye contact? Like polite people.’ She sweetened it with a smile.
Oh, well...start as you mean to continue.
The silence grew weighted—blue whale kind of weighted—but then Brad lowered his head just slightly, removed his glasses and folded them carefully into his breast pocket with the hand not steering, then turned back to meet her eyes square on. But his weren’t contrite, and the act didn’t weaken him. His regard burned into her as if he were scanning her DNA and, for just a moment, she wished she’d kept her big mouth shut.
Pale grey eyes—combined with his dark colouring they were stunning.
Yep, you’re going to need to leave those glasses on...
‘You do realise you’re textbook, I suppose?’ he said as he returned his focus to the traffic around them and she was able to breathe a little easier.
‘Textbook what?’
‘New client. Trying to control things.’
She glanced out at the eight lanes of pristine highway cutting south through the open desert on the outskirts of the city and thought about making light of it. But then something about the unfairness of his judgement pushed a few of her natural justice buttons.
‘Listen, Brad, I’ve lived my whole life in the care of professional people. A couple of jerks, most of them nice. Some of them completely lovely. But all of them were paid to be there, too. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little eye contact when we speak. Just so I know you’re real.’
He focused his grey gaze on the highway ahead—thinking, driving—until finally he came to some kind of conclusion. He swung his regard her way again, and a little puff of heat formed at her collar.
‘Parameter one,’ he agreed on a single nod before turning back to the road. ‘Courtesy in all its forms.’
Meaning...?
But, before she could finish the thought, he barrelled onwards while he changed lanes to tuck their black SUV in behind a huge silver one.
‘Parameter two,’ he continued mildly. ‘I’ll respect your right to independence if you’ll respect my responsibilities as your specialist security detail.’
And if his responsibilities and her rights failed to align...? ‘Is that your way of asking me to do whatever you say?’
‘It’s my way of asking you not to fight me just for the sake of it.’
Hmm. Maybe he had read her file.
‘Fair enough. Parameter three...’ Time to really lay down the law. ‘I’m your responsibility, but not your friend. You get to be annoyed but not disappointed if things don’t go how you’d like them to.’
Okay, so maybe that baggage wasn’t really his to be encumbered with but it couldn’t hurt to knock it on the head nice and early. The last thing she needed on her big desert time out was anything that reminded her of her father’s not-so-quiet disappointment.
‘I’m good with that. Very good, in fact. I’m not here for the conversation.’
She sat back straighter against the plush leather seat. ‘Any final comments?’
He considered. ‘Parameter four. If you need help—if you really need it—you come to me. No matter what else has gone down between now and then. I’ll manage whatever it is.’
There was that word again...
She’d been managed her whole life.
‘You really have a thing for control, don’t you?’ Which was tantamount to waving a red tea towel at the bull of her capricious nature.
He shrugged. ‘I’m paid to control our environment.’
Her environment, for the next four weeks.
‘Okay...’ Four weeks was a long time, she needed to lighten things up a bit. ‘Courtesy, cooperation, respect and emergency protocol. I think we’ve covered everything. Except maybe a safe word? I vote for “capsicum”.’
His dark brows folded. ‘Capsicum?’
‘You know...in case either of us needs out of
