“Good,” I said.
“Good? That’s all you have to say about that is good?” he asked.
“Do you want me to pat you on your back? Yes, it’s good. You didn’t lie to me. That’s a good thing. Trust is a two-way street. I have to be able to trust you as much as you have to be able to trust me.”
“So, you knew all that,” he said.
“Yep.”
“Every bit of it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You just let me ramble on about it to see if I would lie to you.”
“Yeah. I researched you thoroughly before I even decided to show up for your fun little interview. I enjoyed our wordplay, by the way. Very interesting,” I said.
“Fine. You know about my background. What’s yours?” he asked.
“I already know you’ve read my file,” I said.
“I also know there are always details in files like those that are overlooked for the sake of conciseness.”
I grinned as I drew in a deep breath.
“I was an MP in the Army. Military police officer. I was also on an SRT. It’s the Army equivalent of a SWAT team. I wanted to go directly into Special Forces, but they weren’t taking women at the time for those kinds of teams when I wanted to apply. When I couldn’t do what I wanted, I left to find somewhere I could. I got a job with a private military contracting firm so I could better utilize my strengths but ended up specializing in hostage rescues when it came to terrorists.”
“Why did you specialize in that?” he asked.
“Because I can speak their language.”
“What? You know how to think like a psychopath or something?”
“No,” I said flatly. “I actually speak their language. I’m fluent in Pashto, Dari, and Kurdish, and I can muddle my way through Arabic.”
Derek nodded his head as if he was listening intently, but I could tell he was once again blindsided by my admissions. This man really was an idiot.
“After that, I transitioned into asset protection,” I said.
“Bodyguard work,” Derek said.
“Sure. That too.”
“You’re hired,” he said.
“You don’t need to state that. I know I already am.”
“You really are confident, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Most could say the same about you. I can start immediately.”
“You can start tomorrow,” he said. “I have a fundraiser function where I’m accepting an entrepreneurship award. I can’t take you there with me.”
“You’re not going alone. There’s a death threat looming over you. You hired me, so I’m going to protect you no matter where you go,” I said.
“Well, you can’t go dressed like you are. And you don’t strike me as the kind of woman who has a formal dress simply lying around somewhere.”
“Do I strike you as the kind of woman who knows how to shop?”
His eyes raked up and down my body as his cheeks twitched with a grin. Of course, he would take that as a prompt to study my “assets” again. For a man whose life apparently hung in the balance, he sure as hell didn’t act like it did.
I was still having a hard time convincing myself this situation was as bad as Deac made it out to be when we were communicating.
“You’ll need to be more elegant. Sexy, if you’re coming with me. I have an image to keep up, especially if this is going to stay out of the press,” Derek said.
“I’m trained to take down entire regimes, Mr. Steele. I can walk in a pair of heels.”
“But if you plan on being at my side for the duration of all of this, you can’t throw flags at all. That means an entire wardrobe change.”
“Question, Mr. Steele. Would you make a male bodyguard do this same thing?” I asked.
“I wouldn't hesitate in putting him in suits that matched the quality of mine. He would need to blend in just as much. Your current wardrobe is fine for the house, but at my company and at my functions, it is not.”
“Fine,” I said.
“And nothing is to be mentioned to the press. At all.”
“Confidentiality is something I take very seriously. It comes with me, and it’s also stated in my contract,” I said.