“It’s not necessary,” I say as Archie helps me along.
“Yes, it is,” Max says after us. “Don’t let her get out of it.”
Archie grins. “I won’t.”
“Thank you, Max,” I say as Archie shepherds me inside.
Max nods and leans against his truck, watching me. I can feel his eyes on my body and I have a heat in my cheeks and a flutter in my chest.
Archie helps me inside and I wish I could stay there, letting Max look at me for as long as that gorgeous man wants.2MaxI start my job at Lofthouse Manor two weeks later.
Security isn’t my thing. Never really was. I have the background and training for it, but I always avoided security jobs. I was a cop once already, I don’t need to play pretend.
But when Archie called me and gave me the terms, I couldn’t turn it down. The salary was twice what I made as a detective, way more than I could ever hope to earn doing anything else. It was the sort of money that we could live on and save for years. I could start investing, start saving for Tab’s future.
So I accepted, and two weeks later I’m standing in their great hall while a guy with a crewcut stares me down.
“What makes you think you belong here?” he growls at me.
I shrug. “I was hired. So I guess that means I belong.”
He gets in my face. “The fuck you say? You think this is a joke?”
I smile at him. “No. And if you don’t get the fuck out of my face, I’m going to make you.”
He stares at me. I’m bigger than him and I won’t hesitate to follow up my threat. He must see that, so he backs off.
“All right,” he says. “My name is Patricks. You can call me Patricks.”
“No first name? Or are you Patrick Patricks?”
He doesn’t smile. I think it’s funny, but whatever.
“I was army in another life. Did two tours in Iraq before coming back here and working with the Lofthouse family. We’ve been through some shit and I take this job very seriously.”
I nod once. “I do too, Patricks.”
“Do you? You’re standing there, smiling at me, making fucking jokes.”
“I don’t respond well to hazing,” I admit. “If we’re going to be colleagues, you’d better learn to turn down the macho bullshit.”
His jaw works for a long moment as he glares at me but he takes a breath and nods once. “Fine then. Let’s start over. What’s your name?”
“Max,” I say. “It’s good to meet you, Patricks.”
“What experience do you have?”
“I was a homicide detective for five years and I worked undercover for another six. And I walked a beat, once upon a time.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “That’s quite a resume. Why didn’t you just say so?”
“You were too busy measuring my dick. Couldn’t get a word out.”
That makes him crack a smile. “Okay, fair enough.” He gestures around the room. “This is the main entrance. Most people don’t come in this way. I’ll show you the side entrance where staff comes through.”
“Fine,” I say. “Got to keep the riffraff out.”
He doesn’t smile. “Come on.”
I sigh and follow him. This guy’s going to be a real pain in the ass.
We do the full tour. He shows me most rooms, gives a brief rundown of what they are, and we move on. The place is bigger than I thought it would be, although I’d only ever seen the manor itself from a distance, up on the hills around my cabin. Inside, it’s huge and twisting and maze-like, with branching hallways that end in nothing, and rooms that turn into bigger rooms. The place looks like it was designed to confuse attackers as much as it was made to live in.
“Family stays in the east wing,” Patricks says. “Each member has their own room, although sometimes they change things up. You’ll get used to it. Archie keeps a spreadsheet updated with who’s staying and where. First thing you do every day is you come in, check the spreadsheet, and look up your assignment for the day.”
“Got it, that’s simple.”
“You’d be surprised. Even though Arch works hard at it, he can’t keep up sometimes. You’re going to find people in places you don’t expect, so just be ready for that.”
“Fine.”
We walk through a huge, beautiful ballroom. There are mirrors along the walls, making the space seem absolutely cavernous. Our footsteps echo on the dance floor and I wonder how many hundreds or thousands of rich elite men and women have danced on this very floor.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lofthouse have their own suite,” he says. “And Mrs. Lofthouse has a room at the top of the north tower. That’s her art studio and private room, nobody goes up there without permission.”
“Understood.”
We reach the end of the room and he opens a door that’s been camouflaged to look like it’s a part of the wall. “There are passages all through the house for the servants,” he says. “Well, the staff. I guess they were servants back when this place was first built. Anyway, you need to get familiar with them. They’re by far the least secure part of this whole building.”