ZANDER
All partners of The Firm have extensive backgrounds in high-profile security and personal client care. We are equipped to respond swiftly and appropriately to any need or crisis.
Ms. Bordeu stands through Cade’s introductions the way she stood through the hearing—still. Her delicate hands folded in front of her. Next to the fireplace in the sitting room where we’ve gathered, with her manager, Kamden Richards, close by her side.
Maybe I imagine that she glances at me a moment longer than the others.
Maybe I don’t.
Unlike in the courtroom, it’s my job to watch her now. I’m required to do it. Required to observe her reaction to everything. So why does it feel so damn forbidden?
There’s a tension I can’t shake, no matter how much I ignore it and focus on Cade. The gentle ticking of the clock seemingly intensifies as every second passes, as does the need to loosen my tie. Clasping my hands together, I ignore the heat that threatens to suffocate me.
I can’t ignore her, though. Every small sway of her body, every nod at Kam’s interruptions, every time her eyes glance down and then land back on me. Holding me there, daring to look away. I’m never the first to break our shared gaze. She’s always the one who closes her eyes and, once they’re open, directs them on someone or something else.
It doesn’t feel like a job right now. It feels like a peep show. As if studying her face for every tiny reaction is something forbidden and off-limits, not the thing I’m being paid to do as part of The Firm.
Cade doesn’t allow silence after the introductions are made, and summarizing the mundane details from the hearing goes on too long. “Now we’ll need to go over protocol, Ms. Bordeu. Would you like to take a seat?”
It’s a smooth transition, meant to put everyone at ease and direct the client’s attention. But when Eleanor’s eyes slide to mine, ease is the last thing I feel. Calm focus has gone to hell and brought the heat back with it. Tension tugs at the air between us. It’s written in the set of her slightly parted, pouty lips. My thoughts tussle with lewd desires that shouldn’t be anywhere on my mind. This situation is never a comfortable one, the introduction of a client and reviewing their specific needs from us. It makes sense that she’s uncomfortable. Especially given her mental health, which is why we’ve been called in. It’s not protection from a stalker or a former coworker or lover … It’s protection from herself, from what I can gather.
It makes sense that she may feel on edge. Skeptical, perhaps. Saddened or embarrassed by the entire ordeal given the excuse her manager continues to state: just a misunderstanding.
But … that is not at all what I gather from her reticence.
It’s my eyes she looks into, far too often, with wariness a dull flare. It makes my palms itch to touch her. To comfort her in a way no professional should ever do. Once again our gaze is broken, but this time it’s due to my brother walking the length of the room as he closes the folder of paperwork, satisfied there were no issues with the general outline of our arrangement.
This woman is in our care as she resides in her private domicile. We will see to it that she receives the same level of care as she was before, including twenty-four-hour surveillance. The evaluation of her treatment will occur at regular monthly intervals by Mr. Aiden Miller the representative of the Rockford Center, along with an approved concierge doctor. Which means we will be here with her for a month, at minimum.
Cade claims a seat by the fireplace and gestures for Eleanor to take the one across from him, then Dane and Silas sink into two free chairs. Damon positions himself behind Cade’s chair, leaning against the wall by the fireplace. Kamden hovers in the open archway between the sitting room and great room, positioning himself to observe although I have no doubts that he’ll be the one speaking on her behalf. He’s already taken that initiative.
Across from all of them, and farthest away from our client, I lean against the wide, black windowsill. This way, I see her in profile. This way, I’m not staring into her eyes.
Professionalism is required and I am a damn professional.
Eleanor lowers herself into her seat and I twist the top off my water bottle. My mouth has gone bone dry, heat prickling at the back of my neck. This woman, in this room—it does something to me.
In this light, I see more of her, more details she’s hidden. Her haunted eyes and too-slim wrists are on display. In the first moment, as everyone gets comfortable, she reaches for her throat, only to brush her fingertips over it and then put her hand back in her lap.
It’s as if she’s out of place in her own home. A home that reeks of luxury and wealth. Old money she was obviously born into.
Her gaze flicks to various places in the room, no doubt noting the changes we’ve made. Even though the room is clearly kept spare and clean, there are pieces missing. Items we took out. No bottles of alcohol wait in the gleaming bar stand in the corner. The picture frames have had the glass removed, which was one of the many recommendations we received from the center.
As I lean back, feeling the cold windowpane against my back and grateful for the chill, I remember how opposed to this I was. I fought Cade and questioned his decision. There wasn’t a single desire in me to babysit an affluent woman who didn’t want to receive her care in a private institution.
The Firm has a background in law and psychiatry, but we’re known for our military experience. We’re more than just professional bodyguards, although that’s what I’d prefer we stick to. Cade’s vision for transitioning this company isn’t why I signed up to be on his team. I wanted an adrenaline rush and as little interaction with the clients as possible. He wants to move into a more high-end, private and potentially gray market.
There wasn’t a dollar amount that made me lean in favor of his decision.
Now that we’re here, I understand the intrigue and the desire for a more complicated situation.
Cade lays the folder in his lap and shakes out his arms.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to roll up my sleeves and get comfortable with the particulars,” my brother says, directing his statement toward Eleanor. She merely gives him a thin smile and nod in return.
“We should be through this quickly, starting with the schedule.” He launches into the shift rotations and designated meeting times, followed by how any items coming or going, including any shopping, will be handled.
That, and more, until Eleanor interrupts him. Her soft voice cuts right into an explanation of the around-the-clock care services we’ll be providing.