She glanced outside. “Three guest houses. Nicholas and Inda live in one. The other two are empty. There’s a terrace overlooking the bay and an outdoor pool. And lots of plants. My gardener likes to pretend we live in a jungle.”
“How many people have unfettered access to your home?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Inda and Nicholas, obviously. Also my gardener, Bert. He doesn’t really have a schedule, just comes and goes as he pleases.”
My brow furrowed.
“I’ve known Bert since I was a kid. He used to work with my grandad. He loves gardening, and this gets him out of his wife’s hair.”
“Is that it?”
“I have a cleaning service. And Brandy has the entry code. My friends do, too. Emily you know, plus Luna and Daisy.”
From what I could see, she was reasonably safe here. But that danger instinct was still making the back of my neck itch. I found a skillet and some oil and got the chicken cooking on the large gas stove.
She slid onto a stool at the island and got out her phone. Her eyes darted up to me every so often as she scrolled through messages or texts and sipped her wine. I wondered what she was thinking. The woman had an excellent poker face. She could have been mulling over the potential details of our contract, already willing to hire me. Or planning to dig in her heels and refuse, maybe to stick it to her friend for going behind her back in the first place.
Of course, she could have been thinking about work. She had an aerospace empire to run.
I finished the impromptu stir fry and plated us each a portion. I slid hers in front of her and she set her phone aside.
“I will admit that smells amazing.”
I took the stool next to her and handed her a fork. “Thank you.”
“All right, Ellis. Do I have to wait for the PowerPoint presentation, or can you lay it on me over dinner?”
I met her eyes, my fork dangling from my hand. “You need me.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. Your security staff at Spencer headquarters seem good. But they have an entire building to cover. And I assume you don’t spend all your business hours in your office. You leave for lunches, meetings, that sort of thing?”
“I do. Quite frequently.”
“So you don’t have security coverage in those situations. It looks like your people do a decent job of keeping you out of the gossip rags, or maybe you don’t do anything scandalous enough to draw attention.” I might have imagined it, but I thought I saw her eye twitch. “But you still have a very high profile. There are hundreds of reasons you could be targeted.”
She took a bite, her eyes never leaving me.
“In my opinion, your home security is adequate.” I wanted to tell her it wasn’t—that she needed someone here twenty-four/seven—but I didn’t have anything to back that up. Just that persistent neck tingle, and I knew that wasn’t enough. “Outside Bluewater, however, I do recommend full-time personal security.”
“You actually think I need a bodyguard.”
“Look, I don’t have an ulterior motive. If you say no, I get to go home tonight and not set an alarm for tomorrow. I’m just being honest. You had an incident that warrants tightening security around you, at least for the time being. You can hire me, or hire someone else. But you won’t find anyone better than me.”
“And you can fill in for my horny chef in a pinch.” She pointed to her plate with her fork.
I smiled. “Next time the meal costs extra.”
“Naturally.”
She went back to her dinner and we ate in silence for a few moments. It was odd. Cameron Whitbury was basically a stranger. Yet I was surprisingly comfortable sitting here in her enormous kitchen, sharing a meal with one of the wealthiest women in the country.
But I’d learned a long time ago that regardless of someone’s title or the size of their bank account, they were still just a person.
Finally, she set her fork down. “Okay, I surrender. Emily wins. You’re hired.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“She and my other two girlfriends have been texting me all day. This is the only way to shut them up.”
“So that’s it? No negotiations? No conditions?”
“I want to make it perfectly clear why I’m doing this. It’s not because I think I need personal security. It’s to appease my friends and get them to stop riding my ass about it. So don’t consider this a long-term gig.”