The Professional

by Laine Stockton

  The newest hire was a guy named Scott. He was younger than most of the others, mid-thirties, with a military build and a condescending eye. He was brisk with me, professional, but there was an underlying hint of hostility behind his tone. While the other guards just struck me as sexist lapdogs of my mother’s, content to watch TV in the guard hut and wile away their retirement, Scott seemed hands on. Alert. In my business constantly. It was really annoying.

  I bypassed the tourists snapping photos of the front gate and turned into the narrow alley that sliced between the gate and the massive bank building that took up the other side of the city block. The house passed close to the gate here and made the entrance more private. Before I moved in, my mother had ordered a guard station constructed and a side entrance made, saving me the humiliation of entering and exiting my house in front of dozens of people every day.

  To my annoyance, Scott was stationed in the box, watching the camera screens like he suspected something was going to go wrong any moment. He looked up as I passed.

  “Cordelia,” he said, pressing a button to unlock the iron gate.

  “Scott.” I opened the gate and then reluctantly turned. “Mother says there will be someone coming today to talk about the upcoming visit.”

  He didn’t look up from his screens. “Yes, they’ve arrived. She said she’d be in the office.”

  Thanks for the warning, asshole. I responded by opening the side door and slamming it behind me.

  The entrance opened into a hall between the dining room and the serving pantry that I used as a mudroom. Past the mudroom was the breakfast room and beyond that was the office where my mother’s minion awaited me.

  I hung my purse in the mudroom, turned the corner into the breakfast room, and stopped when I saw a man standing at the window, looking out over the front entrance.

  “Don’t stand there,” I said quickly, out of habit.

  The man took a swift step back and jerked his head around at the sound of my voice.

  My apology caught in my throat when my eyes locked with the greenest pair I’d ever seen. I’d read somewhere that only two percent of the population had truly green eyes and all of a sudden the statistic made sense: this man had been hoarding the pigment to keep all for himself. He must be wearing colored contacts or had somehow managed to Photoshop his face. Which, after tearing myself out of the emerald hypnosis, didn’t seem to be out of the question.

  The man was gorgeous, all cheekbones and chiseled jaw accented by black hair that fell in waves across this forehead and curled under his ears. He looked like one of the marble statues adorning the ballroom had come to life and was now standing casually in my breakfast room, waiting for me to command him.

  He was looking at me expectantly, but probably because I was just standing there gawking at him.

  “Why not?” he asked and I was confused until I remembered I’d just told him not to stand in the window. His voice was smooth going down, verbal fifty year scotch though he couldn’t be much older than thirty. There was a hint of amusement too, an expectation that my answer would make him laugh and a taut anticipation for it.

  “The tourists,” I said. “They’ll get you in the picture.”

  The answer sounded lame; I was the only one that worried about strangers and their cameras. But the man took a further step in and, like I’d guessed, chuckled at my response.

  “We wouldn’t want that,” he said and smiled.

  “Um. Who are you?” I asked. He obviously wasn’t the woman my mother had hired to arrange the house.

  Instead of answering right away, he crossed to me with the hint of a swagger in his step. The image of the ballroom statues wouldn’t leave my mind. He should be wearing a toga, not the dark gray business suit that hugged his broad chest and shoulders and covered way too much skin…

  Shit, what the hell was the matter with me? All thoughts of the Crown and my family’s visit had vanished from my mind in the presence of this man. Maybe Diana was right. I obviously needed to put myself out there more if just the sight of a hot guy in my house was leaving me tongue tied and stupid.

  “My name is Alex Flynn,” the statue said. He reached out a hand. I shook it tentatively. His skin was warm and his hand was firm against mine. He let go first and I pulled mine back down, rigid at my side.

  Think, stupid! Right, the woman. “Is there someone waiting for me?” I asked, gesturing towards the door that led to the office.

  “Yes, Ms. Solomon is inside and expecting you, Miss…” he trailed off and I wanted to cover my face with embarrassment. I hadn’t introduced myself. He probably thought I was so full of myself that I expected everyone to know my name.

  “Harmont. Cordelia Harmont. But nobody calls me that,” I said quickly. “It’s Cora, just Cora…Harmont.” God, please kill me.

  Amusement danced in his eyes and a soft smile played at his lips. “Of course, Miss Harmont.” He stepped aside to let me pass towards the office.

  I nodded sharply, decisively, in a gesture that I hoped made me seem businesslike, but was probably severely undercut by my last few minutes of babbling, and walked as confidently as I could into the office.

  What the hell was that, Cora? I cursed myself as I pushed through the door, still cringing at my reaction. Mr. Alex Flynn was far from the first handsome guy I’d ever seen. I lived in New York! The land of models and handsome Ivy League pedigree. But there was something else about him that was just different from any guy who might catch my eye walking down the street. The way he bounced on his heels when he walked over to me. That confident, breezy charm. The smile on perfect lips.

  “Cora?” I snapped out of it long enough to notice that there was a woman standing in front of me with her arm outstretched.

  “Yes, hi,” I said quickly, shaking her hand. “I apologize if you were waiting long. I wasn’t informed that you were coming.”

  “No worries at all. It gave me some time to get the lay of the land. I’m Jackie Solomon.”

  Speaking of models, Jackie Solomon looked like she spent her days lounging poolside and her nights with her head thrown back in laughter at exclusive rooftop parties. Tall, shapely, and blonde with honey golden skin and eyes almost as green as Alex Flynn’s, I immediately wondered if they were dating. She couldn’t be too much older than him, definitely not older than mid-thirties. Could I be lucky enough for them to just be platonic business partners?

  I mentally slapped myself and tried to focus on what Jackie was saying.

  “I’ll be around the house the rest of the week, making the last minute preparations,” she said.

  “Um, what kind of preparations?” I asked.

  Jackie smirked and took a seat behind my great-grandmother’s desk where her laptop was already open. I stood in front of her like a grade schooler called into the principal’s office. “Well, we need to get a cleaning crew in here, of course. I don’t know how you live with all this dust,” she said with a laugh, waving her hand through the air like she could scoop up the particles and absorb them into her skin.

  Up until that point, I’d been trying not to dislike her because of how stunning she was. Her comment relieved me; now I could dislike her for being a bitch. So my mother hired a mini-me to start the festivities in her absence? Well, that was fine with me. I’d dealt with passive aggressive bullshit my entire life. I could handle Jackie Solomon.

  “I get by,” I said. “What else?”

  She looked up from her screen like she was surprised I was questioning her roll in my own house. “Well, I do a lot of things, Cora,” she said with the patience of an adult talking to an inquisitive child. “I make sure the house is stocked with food and other perishables to support your family and their staff. I help your mother organize her schedule and prepare events like the costume ball in two weeks. And I help you.” The smile widened and I almost didn’t want her to continue. The look on her face was one of breaking bad news and being a bit too pleased about it.

  “How?” I asked
when it was apparent she wanted me to.

  “I hired your personal security,” she said.

  My head jerked back as if I’d been slapped. “My what?” I demanded.

  Jackie looked innocently up at me. My mother had warned her I wasn’t going to take well to this and she was loving it. “Your bodyguard?” A chuckle escaped her. “Surely you didn’t expect to just be allowed to go unprotected while the Crown is in New York? You’re a prime kidnapping target.”

  “I’ve survived this long in the city,” I said.

  “Yes dear, but, again, the Crown is a highly valuable artifact. It attracts attention.” She looked back down to her computer and pretended to scroll through something. “Your mother is just looking out for you.”

  Yes, of course she is. This has nothing to do with driving me absolutely crazy. I realized it was futile to fight with Jackie about anything. I needed to go to the source and that meant calling Mother back. Which I was not doing now. I’d already talked to her once today. No, that was a tomorrow problem. At least I had a week to get this shut down.

  “Well, I’ll have to talk to her about it,” I said. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  Jackie pursed her lips and seemed to search her mind. Then she shook her head. “No, Cora. There’s really nothing you need to know. Just be prepared for a lot of people to be in and out over the next week and to get used to seeing me.”

  Good God. What a piece of work. “Fine,” I said. “I’m going to be out so good luck, I guess.”

  “OK, just make sure to inform Mr. Flynn.”

  What now? I searched her face for meaning. Her brow furrowed at my confusion. “I trust you’ve met Alex Flynn? Your new bodyguard?”

  She gestured over my head and I whipped around as the door opened. Alex Flynn walked gracefully into the room on near silent feet. He nodded his head to both of us.

  “I’ve already made Miss Harmont’s acquaintance,” he said and smiled briefly at me.

  My heart dropped in my chest and I turned quickly to see Jackie beaming at me. “Fantastic! Now I have a lot to arrange. You two enjoy each other,” she said, very obviously dismissing us.

  I searched for a reason I had to stay in the office so I could tell her to get out, but couldn’t think of one on the spot. I turned on my heel and walked briskly out of the room.

  A bodyguard? Was my mother trying to torture me? She knew what a huge bone of contention the security at the gate was. Why would she do this to me a week before we were about to spend an entire month together? The answer didn’t take long to surface. She wanted to keep a close eye on me while she was in the city. She wanted to see what I got up to and who I hung around with so she could make sure nothing embarrassing got out to the press while the family was here. And that meant that Flynn and every gorgeous inch of him was specifically designed to get my guard down. He was an agent of my mother in pretty packaging and I would not fall for it.

  I stormed through the breakfast room and back into the pantry, grabbing my purse off the hook. I needed Diana and a glass of wine. Or five. Turning, I almost stumbled over Flynn who moved so silently, I thought he was still in the office with Jackie. My God, it was starting already. I wasn’t going to be able to escape this.

  “I don’t really need a bodyguard,” I said flatly.

  The curious, flirty glint in his green eyes faded slightly at my tone. Stay strong, Cora. He’s getting paid for this.

  “I mean it,” I said. “I think you should find yourself another job.”

  His mouth tightened into a thin smile. He saw the change, knew his job just got a little harder. “I like the one I’ve got, thank you,” he said coolly.

  “I can take care of myself,” I said.

  “Everyone thinks they can,” he replied, “until they can’t.”

  The answer irritated me. His job wasn’t to keep me safe, it was to spy on me. And besides, there wasn’t anything Pretty Boy Flynn could do that a can of mace couldn’t do just as well.

  “Well, I don’t need you,” I repeated, shouldering my purse. “And I would appreciate it if you left me alone.”

  He looked like he was biting back a grin, which somehow made his handsome face even more attractive. “That’s not what I’m getting paid for,” he said.

  “Well I’ll pay you twice as much to go away,” I tried.

  The smile broke through. It seemed unprofessional. “I apologize, Miss Harmont, but I’m currently employed by your mother and taking another job would violate that contract.” He was teasing me. The formal airs dripped with condescension.

  I glared at him. This wasn’t going to be easy. But I knew the city well enough to lose a tail if I wanted to. It didn’t really matter if Flynn followed me around for now. The second I wanted to escape his presence, I should be able to. With that comforting thought in the back of my mind, I opened the side door.

  “I’m going to a friend’s,” I said. “Come or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  Alex Flynn just smiled.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Alex

  As confident as I had been a month ago in Saul’s bar, declaring war on Midas, it quickly became clear that stealing the Crown of Athea was going to be a job on a completely different level from anything I’d attempted in the past. A royal guard, heightened security measures, and the eyes of the entire city watching were only some of the challenges I’d face, not to mention the wild card that was Midas. And then there was the obvious problem of the limited window of time. The Crown would only be in the country for a month and while the actual theft wouldn’t take longer than a single evening, it severely limited the amount of preparation I could do.

  With no time to spare, I enlisted an eager Saul to brainstorm with me, and we spent the first week after Midas’s call trying to scrape together a plan. We sat up late at the bar, whiskey abandoned in favor of a clear mind, bouncing ideas off each other, trying to create a solid operation. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that unlike other jobs, until the Crown was in its place in the country, all we could do was speculate - on security measures, on placement, on odds.

  I’d gone by the Harmont Manor in midtown to get a scope of the place, but even that turned out to be fruitless as it appeared to be occupied already. I’d considered going for it anyway, sneaking in under the cover of darkness, but decided the risk wasn’t worth it. There were plenty of pictures and even blueprints online, and they were just as helpful as the real thing until the Crown made its way here.

  One night, after several futile hours of speculation and getting no closer to anything resembling a plan, Saul had voiced the thought that had been nudging at my mind for the past few days. “What about an inside job?”

  Even entertaining the thought made me tense. It was risky in countless ways, but the upsides couldn’t be denied. I’d have access to parts of the house I’d never be able to see as part of the public. I’d have an ear in the gossip and an eye on security measures. And the more risky my position in the house, the more I’d know. If I was a waiter hired for parties, it probably wouldn’t be worth putting my face out there. If I was an extra security guard on the other hand…

  I had to decide quickly. The weeks were counting down until the royal family’s arrival and if I was going to go ahead with the minimal amount of risk, than extreme measures would have to be taken. My identity would have to be changed again, an expensive but not impossible process. A completely new backstory, work history, and credentials that would hold up under scrutiny from not only the police, but also the FBI. I didn’t doubt their ability to. My guys were good. You didn’t make it to my level without surrounding yourself with the other experts in your field. As long as I didn’t crack under questioning (which wasn’t a worry), than it was only a matter of price and a foolproof alibi for the time when the Crown disappeared.

  After debating the semantics for a day, it was decided. I’d pursue the undercover route and hope to God it panned out. The new problem I faced was that I wasn�
�t entirely sure I could even get a job in the manor. My options were rather limited; I needed to be in the house the entire time the family was there. Landscaping was out of the question as I’d rarely be at the house and I’d never get to see the interior. Housekeeping was also out. The family was most definitely hiring a service and I would stick out like an oak in a flower garden amongst the staff, plus there was no way to guarantee that I would even be put on the palace team. The same would go for a private security agency. With zero legitimate credentials, I couldn’t just join the agency and expect to be placed on such a high profile assignment.

  I was just starting to wonder if this was a bad avenue, impossible even, when Saul got a call from one of his guys that he’d put on feeling out jobs for me. The personal assistant for the Athean Princess had sent out a call to a few agencies asking for a personal bodyguard for the Queen’s granddaughter while the family was in the city. That was the break I’d been waiting for. We got to work immediately on my identity and tossed an application her way for Alex Flynn: professional bodyguard. Flynn lived in a small apartment on the Lower East Side where most of his income came from protecting billionaires and celebrities when they visited the city. It wasn’t too hard to fudge the details. With the help of an old hacker buddy of Saul’s, I created fake tax forms and claims from the past ten years. Client testimonials were tricky, but manageable by routing all the fake reference numbers to another contact who could act the part of numerous people, all praising my name. A little Photoshop on some pictures of clients visiting the city and I was golden.

  Later that night, as I waited for news, I sat at the kitchen island in my Hell’s Kitchen apartment and looked further into the royal family. The Queen, Amelia Harmont, was of course the prominent matriarch. Queen since the late ‘40s, she’d seen her country through the restoration after World War II, brought the small nation back from near economic collapse, and currently enjoyed a booming economy built on mineral mines and ample tourism in the Alps. Good for her.