Page 8 of Protect Your Queen

I looked at her skeptically. She was a baron’s wife, and while information on her was sparse, there was nothing about her that screamed rags to riches.

“You’re going to be shepherding around some of the richest and most famous people in the world.” She suddenly got a little quiet, changing the tone of the conversation to one of instruction and counsel. “We dress like them, and to some degree, we eat, and act like them, too. We blend into the local population… except the local population are the One Percenters. Remember that for all the glitz and glamor that we rub elbows with, we’re not one of them.”

I wondered where this advice was coming from. Was it from lessons she had learned? Or did I just look like the social climbing type? If the first, then I felt sorry for her and the Baron. If the latter, then she had misread me.

“And for fuck’s sake, don’t go on duty and start using your associations to get you laid in the bar.” She pushed herself up with the arm rests of the chair.

I snorted, “Don’t worry. It’s not really my style.”

She returned with a skeptical snort of her own. “Really? What are you? Theonlycelibate Delta guy in existence?”

“That has generally been my experience, yes,” I deadpanned, trying not to react to her raised brow.

“Sure, bro.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Go buy new clothes and come back tomorrow morning.”

Using company time to go shopping? This was a pretty sweet gig.

Holy fuck. Mycardidn’t cost as much as the clothes I had bought.CLOTHES!It burned through half my signing bonus.

I came in with a new suit and the Baron looked me up and down. He did that weird frowny smile and said, “Burn what you wore yesterday. I wouldn’t wish that on the thrift stores.”

Was he out of touch or sarcastic as fuck?I wasn’t sure.

I passed him without a word and went to my assigned office. I finally took the time to feel the seat under my ass and ran my hands over the hardwood office desk. It was far nicer than anything I’d had in the Army. I was leveling up! But, shit, I felt a bit like a charity case. Like I was the token poor guy in a room of millionaires.

I checked my phone. One missed call. I clicked the button to re-dial and heard a high-pitched, audible squeal as soon as it connected.

“I got in!” My sister said without preamble.

“What?” My heart leapt to my throat as complicated feelings came to the surface. “You’re kidding! You got the big envelope?”

“Yes! They accepted me! I can’t believe it! Ah!”

I could almost see her dancing on the other end. A little happy dance she had done since she was a toddler.

“Congratulations, Elyse, you deserve it!” And she did. She deserved this chance. “Julliard! Jesus! That’s amazing!”

There was a wistful sigh on the other end. Then she cleared her throat.

“It’s okay, right? I know you wanted…”

“It’s not about me,” I said in mock sternness. “Just because I had to change my dreams doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have yours.”

“Really?”

“Really, really!” I swallowed the bitterness down, staring at the palm of my right hand. The jagged, long cuts were forever marked across my skin, disfiguring the lifeline. I could still feel the tug of stitches even now, five years after the fact. Long ago, I had dreams. The Army was a stepping stone. Then it was gone. “What were you gonna do?Notbe a musician because I can’t be one? That’s crazy talk!”

“And the tuition…” Christ, I knew it was killing her to ask. I put her out of her misery.

“I got the job.” I heard another squeal from her. “We can sell Mom and Dad’s house and get you a tiny place in New York. You might need roommates until you’re big and famous, but we’ll make it work.”

“I love you, Chris.” I knew she was wiping a tear from her eye. My little sister was prone to fits of extreme emotion. Not tantrums, but extreme and overwhelming joy, sweetness, and happy tears. Just one after the other in a rolling high of feeling. “Things are really happening for us.”

“They sure are, kiddo,” I whispered, as we said our goodbyes.

Problem was, I had no fucking idea what my job really was, other than the bodyguarding part. That was the easy bit. But outside of that, my only experience was getting my ass kicked by the owner’s wife. And she was the most approachable of the crew.

I was about to look for Lea when a man walked in. His shiny black hair was slicked back, and his dark eyes darted around the room as he knocked on the door frame. He wore a navy suit with the slightest plaid pattern. His burgundy tie was held with a gold pin that had a stylized letter I. He peered into my open door, and I immediately came to attention.

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