by Isadora Hart
Back in her room she put the pillows on the couch, and he slung the comforter on. Then he tried to lay down. His legs hung over the arm of the couch up to his mid-thigh.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. She was going to get used to just touching him, she decided. So that it didn’t make her stomach curl every time he laid one of those large, reassuring hands on her. “You can’t sleep there. Have the bed.”
When he got up, she laid down instead, and easily curled into the sofa between the two arms. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it would do. “This is fine for me.”
He folded his arms. “I can’t let you sleep on the couch.”
“You’d rather we both slept in the bed?”
It was certainly what she’d rather do, but she knew he was doing a lot better at managing his self-control than she was.
His mask fell apart for a moment, and he looked utterly conflicted. It was such a simple question and it looked like it was tearing his world apart. She sat up, feeling suddenly terrible. “We’ll just share the bed for one night,” she decided. He needed her to just make a decision; putting it on him to choose was putting all the responsibility on him. “Then tomorrow I’ll get the staff to transfer us to a twin room. I’m really exhausted now, though.” Even the thought of getting up from the cocoon she had on the couch was draining.
She knew they had to share the bed, though. The thought of letting his charge sleep somewhere lesser, of putting himself higher, was completely against his training.
She was starting to realize just how ingrained it all was for him.
He relaxed a little when she told him what they were doing. “Okay,” he conceded. “Just one night.”
“Just one night,” she repeated, dragging herself off the couch and onto the bed. She stuck completely to her side even though she liked to starfish, and turned her back to him, wrapping herself tightly in the comforter.
She felt the bed dip and he slid in beside her, and the temperature instantly rose between the sheets. She wanted to slide back and press herself against his warmth, allow him to wrap his arms around her, and distract her from the images of the assassin’s death, of Archie’s death, floating in her mind.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shared a bed with someone.
She shut her eyes, resisted all her urges, and said, “Good night.”
After a pause, a reluctant, “Good night,” came from the other side of the bed.
The awkwardness left her no desire to stay awake, and she fell asleep in minutes.
9.
CASSIE
Cassie smoothed down the elegant navy dress she wore, wishing it came just below her knee rather than just above it. She pushed all her hair over one shoulder, then the other, then neither. She picked up her lipstick and held it against the dress, then put it down again.
“I hate this,” she said, voice flat.
Vikram sat on the bed they’d shared, watching her. “You look fine,” he said.
“Fine?” she asked, offended. “I’ve just spent two hours getting ready.” She hadn’t worn anything other than a pantsuit or scrubs in public in about a decade and the clingy material was making her self-conscious.
“You look perfectly dressed for the opening lunch of a conference,” he supplied instead, religiously sticking to his professional role. Except for his gaze. His gaze had lingered on her hips more than once since she’d emerged from the bathroom wearing the dress.
It was giving her the confidence his words weren’t. “Perfect. God, I hate this stuff.”
“Do you actually enjoy any of the politics?”
His question caught her off guard, and she frowned. She couldn’t face the reality that the day-to-day experience of being around these people wasn’t fun for her at all. “I enjoy the change it brings.” That was true, at least. And if she was talented at it, wasn’t it her duty to do the job? Together, she and Archie had achieved so much for so many people. She checked her purse, and then her bra. Both the memory cards were still there.
She gave Vikram a hard look. “Could I trust you with something?”
“Is it going to put you in danger?”
“It’s more likely to put you in danger.”
He folded his arms. “Just ask me.”
“I want you to look after something for me. You have to keep it hidden, and promise not to look at it, but just keep it safe. On your person, at all times.”
“You want me to hold whatever it is you took from Archie’s arm?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes. I can hold it for you.”
It was silly to keep both the cards in the same place when she was being targeted. This information was make or break. It held the key to the conference.
She knew, logically, it was silly to trust Vikram with it as well, though. She should have given it to Miranda. Miranda knew the basics of what was on the card, and she’d worked hard to achieve getting the information, but somehow Cassie already felt closer to Vikram than she’d ever felt to Miranda. She felt like, even though Vikram tried everything to remain professional, he’d worn his heart on his sleeve since she’d met him and every action seemed genuine. Miranda had left her work on the ground with a guarded personality, and she and Cassie had never been close.
Cassie tried not to think too hard about it as she fished one of the cards from her bra and handed it to Vikram. When she pressed it into his hand, she held it there, clasping his hand with both of hers. “This information might be the reason Archie was killed.” There was no way it should have been leaked, so few people knew about it, but it was a possibility she hadn’t dismissed. “If… something does happen to me, you should watch it and do what you think is best. You should give to Miranda, or the Director. They’ll know what to do.”
Vikram ignored everything she said, other than to reply, “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“But if it does—”
He removed his hand from hers and pocketed the memory card. She opened her mouth to explain that that was definitely not a safe place for highly classified information, but he pressed palms to both sides of her face and bent down so he was on her level. Their faces were so close they shared breath. “Nothing is going to happen to you,” he repeated. “Stop even considering it.”
“But—”
“At least stop vocalizing it so often,” he said, releasing her and going back to full height. “Where is your faith in me? Giving me classified information one minute and thinking I can’t defend you the next.”
“It’s not that I don’t think you can’t defend me,” she hurriedly denied, finding the breath that had been swept away from having him so close. “I’m just scared.”
“I know.” He fished the memory card from his pocket and turned it over in his large fingers, before pulling a knife from his belt and opening a compartment in the handle. “It’ll be safe in there,” he promised.
“I have no idea why you have a knife compartment. Are you secretly an assassin? I didn’t realize assassin was such a common profession until this weekend.”
He laughed. “No, I just get my knives cheap from a place that also supplies some… more unsavory organizations. Can’t say I’ve ever used the compartment much, to be honest.”
She smoothed down her dress. “I always wondered how men lived without being able to stash things in their bras. I guess now I know.” She was stalling, and picked her purse off the table, double-checking her knife was still there. This was going to be the most heavily guarded event in the known-universe, but she felt safer knowing it was there. “Okay. I guess we have to go.”
They left the room and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around her middle. That definitely wasn’t a power stance.
People were going to be talking about Archie. Everyone was going to be offering their condolences and she was going to want to cry.
“Will you be by the wall?” All the conferences she’d been to in the past had h
ad bodyguards in attendance, and they normally lined the walls of the room, gaze constantly searching after suspicious people.
“No. I want to stick with you, if you don’t mind. I know it’s not common practice.”
She looked warily around the corridor as they walked toward the elevator, so close to Vikram’s side she almost brushed against it. “No, I’d feel better if you did. At least until I get into the swing of things.”
In the elevator down to the lobby, Cassie replayed a mantra of all the lessons Archie had taught her over the years. She replayed all the times she’d watched him interact with the people he hated. She was going to channel him tonight, let the things she knew about him take over. She could do it. She was going to make him proud.
She took a step away from Vikram before the elevator stopped, and he straightened his posture, completely in bodyguard mode.
They were professionals, through and through.
The fact they’d slept in the same bed last night and he’d been cupping her face less than half an hour ago meant nothing.
The lobby was swarmed with journalists, and she stopped only briefly to give a statement. “Everyone continues to mourn Archie, but we all know how dear this conference and the issues it is addressing were to him, and he’d want it to continue. I’m certain there will be some constructive discussions to start the week.”
It was only an informal thing today on the official agenda, but this was where all the important first impressions and mind games begun. It was essential she played this right, especially when it came to the Agalaxians.
She walked with her head held high into the ballroom they were hosting the opening lunch from. It was shut off from the press, but she felt no less relaxed as a waiter immediately came to put a shot of Dhast in her hand. It was the main export of the planet the first president of the IU had come from, and was drank as a custom in all gatherings on the space station, formal and informal. She downed the shot, struggling not to wince as the overpowering taste of aniseed flooded her senses. It burned the back of her throat like always, but that part was welcome.
Just one and it might help loosen her up.
Before she’d had time to scan the room, a middle-aged man came, took her hand, and pressed a kiss to it. “A human custom, am I correct? I’ve done much reading on your culture.” He was smaller than a human, and his skin too green to have originated from Earth. His face was mostly human, though. She recognized him immediately as the king of a small planet invited due to their history of protest against further IU involvement in planetary affairs. He was a rival.
She did a small curtsy, the smile on her face forced. “You are correct. It’s a pleasure to meet you face-to-face, your Majesty.”
“Kthlis, please. And you too, my dear. I knew Archie very well, of course. I’m quite upset he didn’t bring his stunning aide with him in the past now I’ve had the pleasure to look at you.”
“You are too charming,” she said, laying a hand on his arm and giggling. The fact he called her Archie’s aide would have made her lash out if it had been her first day. She’d learned control by now, though. She could do this. If she could deal with this ass, she could take anything that was thrown at her. “I do hope you’ll introduce me to people. You know how it is, being the new girl at these things.”
“Don’t fear, my dear.” He laughed at his own rhyme. “I’ll introduce you to them all. Not that you’ll need it, I’m sure. Quite the drama surrounding you this conference. I heard about the attack last night, I do hope you’re okay.”
“Oh, you know. It gave me quite the scare. I’m shocked the security hasn’t been tighter. It’s quite appalling that someone was allowed to sneak through considering what has already happened. I’m thinking of raising it with someone when the conference is over. If my bodyguard hadn’t been there, this lunch might have been pushed back another day.” She didn’t flinch away or grimace when Kthlis laid a hand on her arm, long, yellow nails digging into her skin through the lace of her dress. “You should come and meet the Crown Prince, I know he’s been very interested in meeting an old rival’s successor.”
She was led to where the reptilian Prince was arguing with a server. “The expense is irrelevant,” he was saying. “I know how much I give to the Intergalactic Union. Not being offered a measly glass of champagne is ridiculous.”
“Qugrom, please,” Kthlis joked, though it was with a small bow and a lowered gaze, too full of deference to be a proper tease. “The Dhast is more than good enough to get you through the day.”
Qugrom clapped Kthlis on the back, but the gesture was too heavy-handed not to contain a warning. The server took that opportunity to slink away. “Oh, Kthlis. Only to those whose palates have been poisoned by this tar.”
“This is Cassandra Maxwell, the girl replacing Archie in the conference,” Kthlis said, drawing attention away from himself.
“I see.” Qugrom looked her up and down, beady black eyes taking in every inch of her body. She felt Vikram tense beside her, and resisted the urge to turn and look at him.
After a thorough inspection of her person, Qugrom offered a slight nod of the head rather than a full bow he might extend to someone of higher standing. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra Maxwell. I hope you do my old friend justice on the floor tomorrow.”
“They are big shoes to fill,” she replied, her own bow so low she had to worry about revealing her panties to anyone behind her. “It’s an honor, your Majesty.”
Archie had spent years and years cultivating his relationships with these people. He could walk among them as one of them. She didn’t have that ability yet.
10.
VIKRAM
Vikram watched with increasing irritation as Qugrom carried on his conversation with Kthlis as though Cassie didn’t exist after that. When she laughed in all the right places and offered a comment, he glanced at her once but didn’t respond. She was being trodden all over, and yet she continued to stand there with her head slightly bowed and staring at him as though he was the most interesting thing in the world as he bitched about how the IU weren’t providing a good enough service for someone of his stature.
It was the most infuriated he’d ever been, and he wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed at the ignorant asses who were treating her like this, or at her for allowing herself to take it.
She had the wit and the knowledge to ruin either of these men in an argument, he was certain, but she never even tried to contradict their points.
His entire body was stiff with tension from the urge to pull her aside and ask her what she was doing.
He spent a good hour in that state, watching as she finally left the side of Qugrom to be introduced to several other delegations around the room. The majority were men, and she never went up to the women and introduced herself to them. He couldn’t understand why—they would surely be less demeaning.
All of them loved to touch her, too. Each would lay a hand on her arm; one even dared to wrap an arm around her waist, hand drifting far enough south to caress her backside when she first leaned in to hug him as a greeting.
Vikram’s hand clenched and unclenched into a fist for a split-second then, and it was when he knew he had to take a break. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, not missing the shiver that ran down her spine as his breath caressed her ear. “I’m going to stand at the wall, if that’s okay.”
She nodded without turning to him, the epitome of cold professionalism, and he hated the sting to his pride at that. He knew she was different, had treated him differently to all other charges the past two days, but that was a harsh reminder that ultimately she was just the same. Just a client.
He took a deep breath and joined some of his fellow bodyguards on the wall closest to Cassie. There were several firms at the conference, but Vikram went to the fellow Suytovians. They had eyes on the conference, standing dead still and with their hands behind their backs, but chatted to each other over the hum of conversation from the main floor.
>
“Vikram,” the man, Maxshov, that he stood next to greeted. “Your charge give you a break?”
“I requested one. Listening to that conversation was starting to make my ears bleed.”
Cvetas, from the other side of Maxshov, shook his head. “You really need to learn to block it out, man, I don’t know how you haven’t perfected that yet.”
Most of the bodyguards he spoke to had a lively imagination. They had a world inside their head they disappeared to for most of the day, fictional or not. No one ever listened to the conversations of the men and women they guarded, and he could understand why. It was enough to drive him mad on a regular basis. He’d never been able to, though. It was probably one of the reasons he’d been in training years longer than everyone else. His mental state wasn’t the same as theirs.
“Trust me, this thing is driving me over the edge.”
“She’s bad?” Maxshov asked. “She’s pretty to look at.”
Vikram’s jaw clenched. “Not her. The rest. They’re all so false.”
“And she isn’t? You just so happened to get the one who was different to all the others?”
His reputation as someone who hadn’t exactly graduated top of his class wasn’t unknown. He’d always had a bit of ribbing from his colleagues because of it. He didn’t see them very often, though. It didn’t bother him. “I guess I’m just a lucky man.”
“I don’t know about that. I saw that hand clench on the floor. I’m sure I’m not the only one who did.” Cvetas looked around Maxshov to tell him this, a frown on his face. It was from concern, not humor. “Don’t do that shit.”
Vikram looked away. “It was a stupid mistake.”
“If you’re going to make a stupid mistake every time one of these old guys touches her, you’ve got a problem,” Cvetas replied, before resuming his upright position against the wall.
Vikram had wanted to stand here to catch a break, but it was stressing him out even more. Mostly because Cvetas was right. He was losing control.