The ringing doorbell announces her bodyguards’ arrival, and her shoulders stiffen. “Relax, baby, they’re good guys.”
Walking Megan downstairs after I’ve dressed, I open the door to see them still waiting on an answer. “Hey guys, come on in.”
“How’s it going, man? Can’t believe you got hitched!” They both laugh like it’s so shocking.
“Yeah, yeah, bust my balls now before you’re officially employed.”
“Officially? What the–” his comment stops as Megan comes out of her hiding spot.
“Hi,” she waves a little, and it’s adorable. Both men, who stand a good half foot over her, kind of melt in her presence. I don’t like it, but I understand it.
“Megan, this is Trainer and Dodge.” She waves again, they chuckle. “Dodge, Train, my wife, Megan.” I’m sure to emphasize the wife part.
“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Maxwell.” Dodge greets her with a bow.
“Nice to meet you, Megs,” Trainer grins at her as he takes her hand and kisses it.
“Megan,” I snap, not liking them giving her a pet name.
“Whatever you say, boss.” Dodge laughs like it’s a joke.
“I ain’t laughing.” I snap again. These two are gonna be a fucking problem I’m going to regret.
Megan
When Jordan left for the office, he’d been hesitant, and I think it’s because Dodge and Trainer kept flirting with me while he was here. Once he’d gone, they calmed down and started doing their job. Which I don’t think is too hard considering Jordan has state of the art security around the house. They seemed baffled as to the need for their services until I explained about the assistant and her possible threats. They shared a look that left me a tad worried.
“You ready to go, Mrs. Maxwell?” Trainer asks as he enters the library.
“I suppose.” I’m more than a little worried about going to Jordan’s work. Running into Jordan’s ex-assistant has me nervous.
“Don’t worry about that woman. She won’t get within shouting distance of you,” Trainer insists.
“If you say so.” I want to believe him, but it’s just not in me yet.
He and Dodge usher me outside with a hand to my back. The other ones maintain a grip on the guns at their hips.
The trip downtown is quiet as we drive. I’m secure in the middle of the backseat with Dodge and Trainer on either side and a big, burly guy up front driving. I think they are lucky I’m not claustrophobic or we’d have a bit of an issue.
“Breathe, Megan,” Dodge encourages from my side.
My uneasiness is ridiculously high as we pull into the parking garage underneath the building. Looking in from the outside, you’d never know what the company did.
As we enter the lobby floor, people are running around back and forth, rushing like their asses are on fire.
“Is it always like this?” I ask.
“Most days, yup,” Dodge answers me.
“So, you’ve worked for Jordan before?”
They share another one of those looks. “We’ve been contracted on and off with Maxwell, Limited for years as private contractors.” Well then, I guess that explains why they were joking around so much this morning.
The elevator they take me on is controlled by a key, so I assume it’s what Jordan meant when he said the assistant no longer had access to his floor.
The ride is quick, and the doors are opening before I get my bearings. A tall man is seated behind a white curved desk with computer, printer, and phone the only items upon it, ready to greet us with a huge welcoming smile on his face.
“Ohhh, you must be the new Mrs. Maxwell,” the replacement assistant exclaims, and I have no idea what to do with his enthusiasm.