Rare Vigilance (Whitethorn Agency)
Page 8
Atlas tugged gently at the bottom hem of the jacket. He owned some nice suits—a cost of doing business in his line of work—but he’d never owned something where the very fabric felt expensive. He owed Bea big time for writing the clothing allowance into the contract. “I appreciate the craftsmanship. And how quickly they were ready.”
That earned him an approving nod from the consilier. “I will be sure to pass along your compliments,” Helias promised. “Do you have your phone with you?”
Atlas pulled it out of his pocket.
Helias brought out his own and tapped out something. A second later, Atlas’s phone buzzed, asking him to accept the drop. He approved it and looked to Helias for an explanation.
“At Mr. Vladislavic’s request, I’ve sent you the general map of the property that was given to previous agents so you can find your way around more easily. I’ve also sent you all the necessary security codes to access the property’s buildings. When the codes change, you’ll be informed.”
He’d need to glance over those files sooner, rather than later. “Thank you. Will most shifts be spent here?”
“I do not believe so. Cristian is heir to Mr. Vladislavic’s business and takes on some of the responsibilities.”
So, business meetings. Calls. Possible trips.
Helias’s mouth did a funny little quirk, like he’d tasted something foul and was trying to politely hide his reaction. “In addition to his father’s expectations, Cristian has an active social life. He prefers to go out frequently. We will provide any vehicles necessary for his trips.”
“What’s different about tonight then?” Atlas asked, noting the lack of any other vehicles parked out front.
“Mr. Vladislavic ordered Cristian to stay on the property while he was away at an unexpected meeting.”
“He placed Mr. Slava on house arrest for the night?”
The faintest ghost of a smile crossed the consilier’s face. “Exactly. Unfortunately for the rest of us, it means Cristian is more bored than usual.”
Helias headed for the house, gesturing for Atlas to follow behind him. The place was transformed from the previous night’s visit. The expectant quiet of the building had vanished, replaced with the familiar noise of people bustling about, passing in and out of doors as they worked. A few called greetings to Helias on their way, while others kept their heads down and moved with clear purpose. Whatever Decebal’s “business” was, it required a lot of people. Keeping track of them all was going to be a nightmare.
He was distracted from the grim thought by a chorus of raucous laughter and teasing jibes spilling from a room in the back corner of the house. A room Helias headed for with dogged determination. Atlas was tall enough he could see over Helias’s shoulder as they neared the cracked door. A small group of smiling people surrounded an odd-looking billiards table where Cristian was lining up a shot.
Atlas had a split-second to admire the line of his arm directing the length of the pool cue, the brow furrowing in concentration, and the stretch of his worn t-shirt over his shoulders before a woman stepped forward and blocked the view. She was about Helias’s height, with rich dark hair, ivory skin, and the strength and grace of a dancer. She wasn’t smiling. She set him on edge for a reason he couldn’t place.
Helias didn’t seem bothered by her intense inspection. “Ioana,” he said in greeting. She moved aside for him without an argument. She didn’t prevent Atlas’s entrance either, but her cool gaze stayed trained on him every step he moved closer toward Cristian and the rest of the company.
Cristian straightened, giving up his shot in favor of leaning on his cue and scowling at the intruders. The others abandoned their places at the table to stand beside him, watching Helias and Atlas in silence. Ioana and a large man were the most imposing of the group. The other two were more relaxed. The tall woman holding the other pool cue had a model’s cheekbones, but walked like a soldier. The slimmer, shorter man beside her wore expensive athleisure and a haircut that could have paid Atlas’s rent, and continued scrolling through his phone as if Atlas were of little concern to him. They held themselves with the ease of people well aware of their own capabilities, which warned Atlas not to test their skills.
Helias ignored them all and focused on his employer’s son. “Cristian, Mr. Kinkaid has arrived for his first shift.”
“Is that who it is? I didn’t recognize him.” Cristian moved to peer past Helias. “Why the suit?” he asked Atlas bluntly.
Atlas clasped his hands in front of him and reminded himself to stay relaxed. “It’s the uniform.”
“You’re overdressed,” Cristian said before nudging Helias aside with the butt end of the pool cue. His attention never shifted from Atlas.
Helias moved with a slight frown. He looked about to start in on Cristian when an alert sounded on his phone. Like that, the consilier’s focus shifted, leaving Atlas to fend for himself.
Atlas reached up and undid his tie, folded it neatly and tucked it into his pocket. Cristian didn’t look away when Atlas reached up again to the neck of his dress shirt. Cristian went still. Atlas popped the top button slowly and hooked a finger under the collar to pull the fine cotton away from his skin.
“Better?” Atlas asked, deadpan.
Cristian made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat and looked down at the table. “Hardly,” he mumbled.
Behind him, Ioana and the large man exchanged a look. So Cristian being flustered was unexpected.
Cristian lined up his shot and drew back the cue. “There’s no reason for you to be here tonight. You should leave.”
His flippant dismissal caught Helias’s attention. The man slipped his phone back into his pocket and glanced at Atlas, who saw nothing but resignation in the split second of eye contact. See? Helias seemed to say. This is what I warned you about.
He didn’t need Helias to fight his battles for him. And he wouldn’t accept payment for work he didn’t do. Cristian may be his charge, but he wasn’t the one paying Atlas’s bills, and Atlas had no intention of letting down his employer on his first day.