Page 13 of Caleb
“Good luck,garçon,” Annette chirps as we head out. I reply by looking over my shoulder and raising a brow in her direction. It makes her laugh. I shake my head with a smile and follow Aaron out.
“Seems like you caught Annette’s attention,” Aaron says as we walk through the parking lot toward the black Mercedes. “She doesn’t usually like anyone.”
“I hadn’t talked much to her until today,” I admit, adjusting my curly earpiece inside my ear. “She seems to like you too.”
“She likes menow.” He huffs a laugh. “It took us a while to be able to talk to each other like normal people do. She was young and mouthy when she started working here, but she’s clever, cunning—committed. I get why Ambassador Murphy hired her. But once she realized we were both going to be looking at each other’s faces every single day, she quit running her mouth with me.”
“I see.”
“Just try to keep it in your pants.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
Aaron shoots a disapproving look my way and unlocks the car. I step beside the back passenger door, waiting for Miss Murphy to arrive. “You don’t want to get involved with one of Ambassador Murphy’s most trusted employees.”
I snort, slightly annoyed by his insinuations. “Got it.”
“I’m serious about this,” he says, stepping beside me.
Aaron thinking I’m somehow inclined to be romantically involved with any woman right now, especially someone like Annette, who’s not only much older than me but a co-worker, is straight-up insane.
“Aaron, what the fuck?” I whisper back. People are coming and going in the parking lot. “I’m not interested.”
“No harm in laying it out for you,” he says. “Now, stay put because Miss Murphy is headed our way. I’ll start the car.”
Snorting, I turn my gaze toward the staircase. My jaw tenses. Miss Murphy is gorgeous, but she’s a girl. I’m glad she’s not older and closer to my age because that would’ve been tricky. Not that I would even dare allow my mind to toy around with the idea of us getting closer in any other way that’s out of line with my job title if that were the case.
Besides, we’re from two different worlds. She looks effortlessly graceful, intelligent, and cultured. Or at least that’s what I’d think a girl of her status would be like. And I’m just a broken guy from Tel Aviv who will never deserve a girl like her.
Her eyes radiate warmth and kindness. I know I don’tknowher yet, but she doesn’t seem like trouble. So that’s already a win.
She’s in the same uniform she wore the first day I saw her. A grey pleated skirt that falls a couple of inches above the knee, a dark grey vest over a white collared blouse, a white and red striped necktie, and a deep red blazer. She’s wearing her long, auburn hair down and parted in the middle. The early morning sun makes it look a bit orange in places. It’s fucking lovely.
She takes the last step and walks in my direction, carrying that damn leather backpack over her shoulder, making her frame angle more toward her right side from the apparent weight.
That’s it. This shit about me “staying put” and interacting with her as little as possible needs to be postponed for another day. I make a beeline for Miss Murphy, not giving Aaron a chance to jump out of the car to hold me back or make a sound to make me stay in place like the trained dog he wants me to be.
So I want to help her with her bag. What’s he going to do about it? I know there’s a protocol in place and all that crap but who gives a damn.
Miss Murphy freezes in place, her cheeks getting rosier by the second, the faint and scattered freckles on her nose and cheeks blending in with the blush. She stares at me like I’m the villain who’s come to take her away to his secret lair. It makes me want to smile and say I’m one of the good guys, but I keep it professional by standing a good few feet away from her before formally introducing myself.
“Good morning, Miss Murphy,” I say, resting my hands in a single fist in front of me. Her eyes get bigger, and her bow-shaped lips part just a tad. It’s as if she wanted to say good morning back, but she can’t, so I keep talking. “Nice to meet you. I’m Agent Cohen.” I offer my hand, and she takes it in a firm, confident handshake that stuns me.
She gently drops my hand, but her eyes, which I can now clearly see they’re a stunning shade of green, are still looking into mine. They’re beautiful but painfully sad looking. Almost … transparent. Like she’s not trying to hide the fact, or maybe shehastried to hide the sorrow but has either grown weary of the task or failed miserably at it.
A primal urge to whisk Miss Murphy away and talk it all out with her, to make that sadness go away, to make things feel better, invades me. But that’s crazy because we just met a few seconds ago, and she would probably freak out. Besides, I’m in no way equipped to deal with anyone’s emotional baggage when I’m a fucking mess inside. And try topping that off with having to deal with my personal brand of demons that cling to me like blood-sucking ticks.
And I might havejustmet her, but I know her name is Guillermina—a fascinating name—and I know I’ve no fucking clue how to say that, but I’m looking forward to asking her about the pronunciation.
I also know she’s been dealing with her mother’s death. Grieving. Just like me. And that’s enough to make me want to fix things. Fixeverything. Aaron tells me she hasn’t made any real friends since arriving in Paris, and it makes me uncomfortable to think she might feel lonely.
Don’t ask me why.
I know it’s not my place to have these thoughts, but I feel like I know her, if only a little, on paper. I’ve read the files countless times and have explicit details about what happened to her mother, how things were dealt with, her father’s plans for her security, and the secrets he keeps and plans to keep from her.
I also know it’s only been a few months since she returned to school. For almost two years, while in Oslo, she was privately tutored and rarely left the Ambassador’s Residence, or so Aaron told me. So howthe fuckam I going to be okay with this girl looking like she might come undone any second now?
“Nice to meet you, Cohen,” she says, her soft voice slapping me back to reality. A hint of a smile draws on her rosy lips, but I can tell she’s making an effort to summon even that simple gesture.
