Page 52 of All The Way Under
Roger frowns, but then meets my gaze.
“Saylor told me you’re more than a Navy SEAL. More than a friend too. She also used the word wonderful, among others, to describe you as well.”
I feel trapped in my own skin. Conversations like this are the antithesis of what I’m good at. Perform under pressure, I remind myself. This isn’t any different than a debrief where I lay out the facts and give the truths. Not all the truths, though.
“She told you that, did she?” Real smooth, Brody. “Sir, I don’t think either of us expected—” I begin, but he waves me off.
Roger shakes his head. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. Your resume is impressive, and because Saylor and I are so close, I trust her judgment.” He slips his hands into his pants pockets. “Thank you for taking care of her, and you have my blessing.”
It’s a vague statement, but what else could he mean, other than that he approves of me dating his daughter? My heart pounds as I rub a thumb over the edge of my jaw.
“Thank you, sir. I…I haven’t spoken to her since we’ve been back here,” I say, implying, I’m not sure what, if anything, we have between us.
Mr. Wyndham’s phone rings in his pocket. He silences the call.
“She was in some shock, but she’s coming around. I’m taking Bianca out to eat right now. The jet lag is hitting us hard. We’re going to take most of our security detail, but if you wanted to go visit Saylor, help watch over her, I’d appreciate it.”
There is a double entendre in his words. He knows she wants to see me, and he’s offering it up as a task he knows I can’t refuse. He’s just as smart as Saylor, I realize.
“Of course,” I reply, swallowing. I hike a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll hit the showers and head her way.”
“She’s in penthouse two,” he says.
I already knew that.
“And Brody,” Roger adds, his hand on the door lever.
I cock my head. “Yes, sir?”
“Saylor hasn’t had the best luck with dating. There’s been a lot of pressure on her from a young age, with standards she never agreed with. I need you to know we don’t care about standards or wealth. We care about morals and ethics. It’s hard to findrealin our world. If you can’t be real, please let her down gently.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He leaves, closing the door behind him.
I stand in the gym, hands on my hips, staring at the wooden door for far longer than is normal. I think about what he said and how many different meanings it could imply while I shower and change clothes.
I opt for a pair of shorts and a T-shirt because I lived in jeans for so long, my legs are chaffed and angry. I’m not sure when I’ll willingly put on jeans again.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I realize how long it is. It’s out of Navy standard, longer than it should be. I examine my face closely because a mirror still feels like a luxury. I shaved when we landed, but I have a dark blonde five o’clock shadow. I debate shaving before I see Saylor. I decide against it because it will take more time—time that I could be with her.
Sliding into flip-flops, I head up to the penthouse. A guard is standing there when the elevator doors ping open.
“Brody McCoy,” I say, hoping this isn’t going to be hard. I don’t have it in me to deal with hurdles.
Saylor wants to see me. Her dad approves of me. It’s almost like this is too good to be true.
The guard, wearing a suit, moves out of my way and nods at the door. “You’re expected,” he growls. “I’ll shut the door behind you, locking you in. The room has been secured, and there are guards on the roof of the building across the street, monitoring from all angles.”
His brows knit together. I can tell he didn’t want to give me this information. It was forced to be given.
“She’s safe here.”
Well, I’m fucking glad someone is on the job when I’m not.
I give a short nod. “Thank you. I’ll watch her six while I’m here as well.”
He closes the door behind me, and I turn to a breeze from an open balcony door. The white curtains billow. It smells like a different version of her. A mix of her real shampoo and her inherent scent. The scent that I know. It’s fresh.
A rush of adrenaline hits as my cock hardens in response. I fucking hate that it’s immediate. Hate that I feel so strongly, but it’s innate. I can’t fight my head or my heart when it comes to her.
