A pleasant warmth chipped away at my earlier irritation. “Been Googling me, Ms. Alonso?”
She lifted her chin, her cheeks turning an adorable brick-red. “I don’t enter pretend relationships without doing my research.”
“Hmm.” I fought a laugh at her dignified tone. “Then you’ll know I attended MIT. Mike was a classmate. We competed for everything—grades, girls, internships. I was always a step ahead, and he hated it. He’s made it his life’s mission to one-up everything I do.” A wry note entered my voice. “He’s yet to succeed.”
Unless he counted the Deacon and Beatrix accounts, which were nothing in the grand scheme of things.
I was competition to him. He was an annoyance to me.
Stella’s brow furrowed. “That sounds like an exhausting way to live.”
“Perhaps.”
People like Mike were too small-minded to devise their own goals, so they looked to those who were more successful than them for a roadmap instead.
No originality. No true purpose or drive. Just a mindless need to stroke their egos for an audience of one.
It would’ve been sad had I given two shits about their lives.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get the account.” Mischief lit Stella’s eyes. “I, personally, wouldn’t entrust my wellbeing to someone who wears a light blue suit to a black-tie event.”
This time, I didn’t hide my laugh.
Stella and I circulated the room for the next hour before we finally came face to face with Richard Wyatt.
After the obligatory small talk, I steered the conversation toward his security needs, but he seemed more interested in my relationship with Stella.
“Christian Harper with a girlfriend. I never thought I’d see the day.” Richard chuckled. “How did you meet?”
“We met at Queen Bridget’s wedding,” I said smoothly. “I saw her across the room and asked her to dance. The rest is history.”
In truth, we’d exchanged only a quick greeting at Bridget’s wedding, but the story Stella and I had concocted for our meet cute served several purposes: it was simple, easy to remember, more interesting than admitting we met during an apartment tour, and close enough to the truth we wouldn’t trip ourselves up if someone dug deeper.
Plus, name-dropping Bridget always impressed clients, though Richard’s face remained unreadable.
“Speaking of history, I understand you’ve had bad experiences with protection services in the past.” I steered the conversation back to the topic at hand. “But given your public profile, a bodyguard is a necessity, not a luxury.”
Richard gave me a wry look. “It’s always business with you, Harper.”
Yeah, I didn’t attend this fundraiser for my fucking health. Baby turtles? Cute, but not cute enough for me to spend a Saturday night saving them or whatever the hell the party was supposed to do.
I didn’t need Richard as a client. Most of my money came from behind-the-scenes software and hardware development, not protection services.
But his pickiness when it came to hiring was legendary, and I thrived on a challenge.
“You should spend more time with family,” he said. “Relax a little. I took my wife and kids skiing last month, and it was the best…”
I tuned him out as he yammered on about his son’s natural talent at snow sports. I gave negative fucks about his family vacation, and his kids sounded annoying as shit.
Stella, on the other hand, appeared genuinely interested. She asked questions about his kids’ hobbies and offered to connect him with an eco-friendly fashion brand that might be a good partner for his wife’s annual charity fashion show.
It was all so cordial I wanted to shoot someone just to liven things up.
“Where was your last family vacation?” Richard drew my attention back to him.
“I don’t go on family vacations.” Even if my family were alive, I would rather cut off my arm than go on some group cruise through the Caribbean.
Richard’s bushy brows collapsed into a frown while Stella squeezed my hand in what felt like an admonishment.
“Christian can be a workaholic, but he isn’t all business all the time,” she said quickly. “Fun fact: we danced at the wedding, but I didn’t agree to date Christian until later. When I ran into him while volunteering at a senior living facility.”
My smile froze. What the fuck?
That was not the story we’d agreed on.
“Christian volunteering?” Skepticism colored Richard’s words.
I didn’t blame him. My charity went as far as writing a big check.
“Yes.” Stella’s smile didn’t budge. She ignored my warning glance to stay on script and continued, “He was a bit uncomfortable at first, but it’s grown on him. He’s a natural. The residents just adore him, especially during bingo night.”
She lowered her voice. “He doesn’t admit it, but he lets them win on purpose. I saw him hiding a winning card once.”
Bingo night? Letting them win? For fuck’s sake.
“Huh.” Richard eyed me with newfound interest. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Harper.”
“Trust me.” My tone matched the Sahara in dryness. “Neither did I.”
We chatted for a few minutes longer before Richard’s wife came up to us. She and Stella instantly struck up a rapport and drifted off on their own conversation, leaving me and Richard to discuss business.
He listened to me make the case for why he needed a professional protection team, but he interrupted me before I could make an official pitch.
“I know why you came, Harper, and it’s not for the baby turtles. Not that I would tell my wife that. She was thrilled when you RSVPed yes.” Richard cast an affectionate glance at his wife, who was talking to the ambassador from Eldorra.
My shoulders stiffened. Where the hell is Stella?
She’d been talking to Richard’s wife just ten minutes ago.