by Selma Wolfe
Rick blinked and an unsure expression crossed his face. He looked between the two doors, and then back at Hope.
“I thought… you’re my bodyguard, so I just figured you’d want to be close by. I mean, you can go somewhere else - anywhere else, really, it’s a big house - but the room’s right there, so…”
“Oh!” Relief colored her words and made them sound brighter than she’d meant. Rick perked back up and smiled hopefully. “Well, in that case. Alright.”
Those bright green eyes focused on her and Rick frowned. “In that case…” His eyes flew open wide. “Oh! Jesus.” He put his hands in both pockets and pulled them out to show nothing but lint and seams. Hope cocked her head to the side. He held out his palm, displaying the lone key in it.
“There’s only one key between the rooms,” Rick told her, his face open and earnest. “You have it.”
He was honestly concerned that he’d made her feel uncomfortable, Hope thought in disbelief. A warm feeling curled in her belly and she pushed it away, but not before she gave Rick a rare small smile.
“Thank you, Rick,” she told him, and he beamed happily at her. With his bright smile and eyes and tendrils of dark hair falling around his face, Rick looked young and boyishly sincere.
Hope didn’t know if she could trust it; she barely even recognized sincerity anymore. But she thought that, for the moment that at the least, this seemed like a client she could live with.
The next morning she woke up in slight confusion at the sound of knocking. Hope stared at the 20’ ceiling and oriented herself. In a mansion, next door to the client, need to get up and make herself useful.
“Do you eat breakfast?” Rick shouted through the door.
She cast an eye at the clock and groaned. Weren’t millionaires supposed to be lazy?
“Not at 7AM,” Hope shouted back. She rolled out of the comfortable bed and grabbed some clothes.
“Yeah? Well, I’ll be in the kitchen if you want some anyway,” Rick called, and she heard his footsteps fade into the distance.
Getting ready took five minutes. It was amazing how fast everything went when you had consistent running water; she still wasn’t completely used to that. The only problem with the bathroom was that everything had too many faucets. Hope eyed the taps warily, having been burned (literally) the night before in the shower. Who installed a tap that spat out boiling bubbles into their tub?
On the way out the door she hesitated, looking over at the connecting wall. She fingered the small key ring in her pocket. It was very tempting to go through right now and examine Rick's room while she was alone. If he was going to try to make her into a 24/7 guard (and she was going to have to give that more thought) then she needed to do her job right.
But in the end, Hope huffed out a sigh and left with the door still untouched. Rick hadn't given her any reason to think he'd be uncooperative, she reminded herself. She wouldn't break the rules... unless she had to, of course.
Hope had no trouble finding her way to the kitchen, but she took her time, scanning her surroundings and taking in the architecture. High ceilings meant lots of echoes, she noted, though they were mostly muffled if she stayed on the red rug that flowed down the center of the hallways. She noticed that in spite of its luxurious look, it was on the thin side, probably a side effect of age. Even with sunlight sneaking in the windows, the building still felt dark and castle-like. It was interesting. Hope hummed silently, just the buzz of vibration in her mouth.
"Bacon?" Rick offered when Hope walked into a huge, chilly kitchen with a large wooden table at the center and a counter spanning three walls. She was amused to see a petite woman with dark skin was the one simultaneously cooking the bacon and raising an eyebrow at Rick, who grinned at both of them from his seat at the table.
"No thanks. Coffee?"
The woman jerked her head to the right. "Hope you like it strong enough to sear off your taste buds."
"Sounds perfect." Hope crossed the kitchen to the coffeemaker. She accepted the mug the woman passed over with one hand, and offered a handshake with the other. "Hope Lasser, nice to meet you."
After just a second's pause, the other woman shook her hand. It was strong and calloused, same as Hope's, and they smiled briefly at each other. "Trinity Taylor. I'm one of the fleet of housekeepers for Mr. Stone here."
"I told you to call me Rick," the man called from his spot at the table where he was busy flipping through white pages crammed with tiny black text.
"As you say, Mr. Stone," Trinity said placidly.
"See, this is what I have to put up with, no respect at all," Rick complained, eyes still scanning the papers in front of him.
Hope poured out a cup of coffee and took a seat at the table across from him - a little bit of a liberty maybe, but she was in some kind of weird limbo between employee and guest right now, and if she was going to figure out the boundaries, it needed to be now. She took a sip of the coffee and almost moaned aloud. Perfect.
She glanced up to see Rick watching her over his papers. "You make that look like a religious experience," he said, sounding amused.
"It might be," she said, straight-faced. Rick grinned outright.
After another long pull on the rich black coffee Hope set it down and focused on Rick to get his attention. She flicked a glance at Trinity's back and tilted her head.
"Oh, Trinity's been here for years. You can say whatever in front of her," Rick said with a wave of his hand.
Hope gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. "I can see why these mysterious bad guys are having so much trouble with your airtight security," she told him.
"She's right," Trinity said over her shoulder. "I don't know what you're doing wrong but you better go ahead and fix it, Mr. Stone. We'd never had one problem with burglars before, and then there's two break-ins in the last three weeks. Two! I don't mind telling you that if this keeps up, I am out of here on a fast horse."
Rick clutched theatrically at his heart. It was pretty effective in his simple (though undoubtedly expensive) black tee-shirt that clung to him and hinted at a surprisingly fit torso. It made Hope look at him, anyway.
"Trinity, what would I do if you left me?" he said mournfully.
The woman brushed hair out of her face with one hand and used the other to set down a plate of bacon that Rick immediately fell on. She shook her head fondly. "You'd forget me by 2:00, that's what."
"Never," Rick said, voice muffled by bacon - and yet somehow he managed to avoid both chipmunk cheeks and looking like was talking with his mouth full. Maybe talking and eating gracefully was something they taught millionaires.
Trinity rolled her eyes and walked back over to the stove. "You forgot who Karen was just last week."
Rick frowned. "The redhead? So?"
"So she's worked here for nine years."
Rick shrugged and turned his gaze back to his reading. "Oh well. So I have a few flaws."
"You're not wrong," Trinity muttered, though she smiled as she said it.
Outwardly Hope didn't smile, but she was more than content to sit back and listen to their comfortable banter as she sipped the rest of her delicious coffee. Not every morning would be as easy as this, she was sure. She would take her peace where she could get it.
The papers on the other side of the table shuffled, and Hope glanced up to see Rick shuffling them neatly before tossing them right into the recycling bin next to the table.
"You're done already?" Hope asked, not even thinking about it.
Rick's eyebrows shot up and then he relaxed.
"I'm a fast reader," he said carelessly. Hope studied his tousled hair (genuine post-sleep article, or tousled? She didn't know enough about hair to tell), designer clothes, and easy smile. She wondered if maybe he just liked to be thought of as somebody who read.
"So..." Rick clasped his hands together on the table and leaned back in his chair. "You've got questions, I take it."
Hope set down the mug. "In a manner of speaking. But
I have to be up front with you. You're paying me to be here, but if you don't listen to what I say, I'll be ineffective. So I'm asking questions, but I'm only going to listen to certain answers. Alright? I'll cooperate with you whenever I can, but at the end of the day..." she took in Rick's careful attention and decided on full honestly, "most of my job is to prevent you from accidentally getting yourself killed."
He seemed to think about that for a second. Then, oddly enough, the corner of his mouth tugged upward.
"You're interesting," he told her, his brown eyes as honest as his words. Hope didn't really know how to respond. "I'll try my best to behave. Promise."
He gave her a full-on grin that made Hope doubt extremely the effectiveness of that promise. Off to the side Trinity snorted quietly.
Hope propped her elbows on the table and brought her hands up in front of her lips, like she was praying. For patience, maybe. Or luck. "So you want me to shadow you 24/7? You should probably know I haven't done that before. Most people haven't. It's not industry standard."
"Will you do it anyway?" Rick asked. His face was serious for once. His eyes flitted compulsively toward those notes he'd tossed into the trash. Hope wondered what that was about.
This house was interesting, and Rick was interesting, and honestly, she had nothing else to do. Her internal debate raged for about a quarter of a second before Hope nodded and said, "Fine, but in that case we need to establish new ground rules. I need to know what your expectations are. If I'm not just clearing situations at events and outings, then I need to know what it is you want me to do in your house."
"That's fair." Rick pursed his lips and drummed his fingers along the top of the table. Even through the thick wood, the tapping reverberated across its surface and up Hope's arms. Disconcerted, she pulled her arms away and folded her hands in her lap.
After mulling it over for a moment Rick said, "I guess I just want you to stick around in case something happens. It would be good to have someone in the house who knows what to do, and how to keep things safe."
"Things?" Hope asked softly.
For the first time, all of the charm and carelessness fell away from Rick's handsome face. He looked suddenly solemn, even stern.
"I meant... I meant people, of course," Rick said, holding her gaze in a way that made Hope feel like he was evaluating her.
She wanted to press the issue, but his uncharacteristic seriousness and the pages in the recycling bin made her pause. Later, she decided. Hope was certain she wouldn't get anything else out of him now.
"How close to you are you expecting me to stick?" she asked instead.
The tension cleared from Rick's face like a breeze had blown it away.
"Oh, you can do whatever you like," he said brightly. "Hang out, explore the house, whatever. Just stick around the grounds and keep this on you."
Hope watched as he dug in his pocket and produced a small, almost flat rectangle. Rick placed it on the table and shoved it across to her. The kitchen lights glinted off its metallic surface and Hope realized it was technology. She caught it carefully.
“Uh… thanks.” She picked it up gingerly and eyed it. Was that the ‘on’ button at the top, or…? “I’ll try to take care of it.”
Rick shrugged. “It’s yours. Do what you want with it.” He pushed his chair out and stood up. “If you need anything, just call - my number’s in the phone. I’m off to do some paperwork.” He smiled lazily. Yeah, sure, Hope thought. He looked more like he was about to drink mojitos by the pool.
“I’ll return the phone to you when the contract is over,” she said firmly. She peered at the thing. “Um. And. How do I…”
The sound of footsteps made her look up to see Rick’s back just as he vanished around the corner.
“You’ve got your hands full with that one,” Trinity chuckled from the corner.
“So I hear,” Hope sighed, and went over to help with the dishes.
CHAPTER THREE
A branch reached out and snagged on Hope’s braid. In the dimming dusk light, she missed it and cursed when it yanked her to a stop.
The gardens were suddenly less pretty, she thought as she untangled her hair. Still, she couldn’t deny that the grounds were impressive. Hope had spent the day walking around the house in a grid, establishing a perimeter in her mind and familiarizing herself with the lay of the land.
Surprise surprise, the grounds were huge. Relatively plain grassy fields stretched along the length of the driveway in front of the mansion, with just a few trees to break up the landscape.Behind the house was where things got interesting. Immediately outside the back doors was an Olympic-sized pool filled with temptingly clear water. And beyond that lay the gardens.
Intricately planned and lovingly grown bushes, trees, and flowers of every shape and color imaginable were arranged for more than a square mile. Elegant stone pathways wound through the gardens, around the pool, and connected several actual terraces attached to the back of the house. Hope was pretty sure that someone had wanted to live in fair Verona with the Montagues and Capulets. Some of the plants looked old - she wouldn’t be surprised if Rick’s grandparents, rather than his parents, had been the ones to plan and plant these beautiful gardens.
From a security standpoint, of course, they were something of a disaster.
Hope rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead and grimaced. There were a hundred thousand places that a prospective attacker could hide out here. Not only could they hide, they could hide a whole damn army and a Trojan army as well. This was probably the least defensible estate in the world. Just her luck.
The only bright side was that the inside of the mansion was quite the opposite. Hope pulled open the heavy back door and wandered down the halls, noting the small windows and thick deadbolts on the heavy wooden doors. There was a lot of space to get lost in here, and that could be an advantage with foreknowledge of the terrain.
Hope nodded to a red-headed maid as they passed by her, turning on lights to make up for the swiftly fading daylight. She wondered if this was Karen, but the woman gave her a quick smile and was gone before Hope could actually say hello.
By now it was officially dark outside, and checking on her client seemed like a good idea. Rick had sent her a couple nonsensical texts throughout the day that had popped up on her screen and made the phone vibrate - do you know the average lifespan of a domestic pig, and then a second later, never mind just googled it.
She hadn't replied to either one, but it didn't matter because an hour ago she'd run into Rick outside and he'd told her that he was going to play some video games in the rec room, which was all the way in the east wing.
The high arch of the hall that led toward Hope's bedroom already looked inviting. In some ways it was familiar; it reminded her of the luxurious home she'd spent three years in and out of when she worked in Africa. The memory turned sharp with nostalgia; Hope reminded herself not to get too comfortable. Bodyguards didn't get to stay.
As she rounded the corner and her door came into view, Hope pulled out her phone. She stared dubiously at it. Both of Rick’s messages continued hovering in the middle of the screen when she poked at the buttons.
There were way too many buttons on this phone and they all had multiple characters on them. And it was a touchscreen. Hope thought mournfully of the simple black brick she'd used during her last gig. She tapped a glowing blue center button experimentally and everything went dark.
In the middle of her mental swearing streak, Rick's bedroom door swung open and he walked out bare-chested.
The two of them froze and stared at each other. Hope was too well-trained to drop her phone, but Rick wasn't so lucky. He'd been carrying a shirt, and it fell straight onto the floor, where he proceeded to step on it.
"Oh for..." Rick recovered from his surprise and reached down to grab the shirt.
Hope wasn’t some sheltered choir girl who had never seen skin before, but her eye was immediately drawn to Rick’s body anyway. He
tended to wear clothes that fit the shape of his body and clung tight enough to give her a good idea of his form. She’d already gotten used to him walking around with his sleeves shoved up his arms to bare his forearms like some Victorian striptease. But even though Hope could approximate a reasonable idea of what he’d look like naked, it didn’t matter. She wanted to stare at the bare skin on display; wanted to read the small white scar on the back of his left shoulder and the exact curve of his hips.
Rick held up the wrinkled shirt and eyed it like he was thinking about putting it on anyway, but there was an odd bluish shoe print right in the middle of the fabric. Hope frowned at it. What could he have been walking in to put that strange dust on his feet, she wondered? And what was he doing in his room at all, when he’d told Hope he was going to be on the opposite end of the mansion? These were delicate questions. She should probably approach them with care.
“What were you doing in your room?” Hope asked. Tact was for people who didn’t know what they wanted.
Rick had already turned the broad plane of his back to Hope. He curved his neck to shoot a glance over his shoulder at her. Owning a few beaches clearly did him good; he was tan all over. He wasn’t heavily muscled, but his shoulders looked developed and capable, and there was a curve indicative of strength around his biceps.
“Couldn’t find the game I wanted to play,” he said easily, and caught her eyes with a smile. “Thought I’d look in my room.”
“Did you… ” Hope trailed off as Rick slipped through the door to his bedroom and clicked it shut behind him.
“Find it,” she finished, alone in the empty hall.
After just a minute the doorknob rattled and Rick came back out. He was buttoning up a loose-fitting black shirt with one hand and used the other to pull the door swiftly shut behind him.