Page 19 of Lethal Beauty

I knew I didn’t owe him an explanation, but I wanted to. “My job requires me to … play a certain role … with the outside world.” I weighed my words carefully because they were true in more ways than one, and I didn’t want to reveal too much. “I can let that image slip at home a bit, but even then, I have to remember that public image and reputation are a big part of my success or failure. You’ve seen behind the curtain more than most do, meeting me before we arrived at the airport this morning, but that person you saw in Texas is not the person I can be while I’m here.”

The intensity in his green eyes flared as I spoke, and just like yesterday, he actually listened and thought about what I said—didn’t ignore my words like my brothers did in their bid to attempt running my life or successful businessmen did when trying to lure me into their beds, believing me to be nothing more than a hard-to-get airhead who secretly wanted nothing more than to have them heaving above me and pretending they were a god in bed. I could see the understanding, and maybe even a hint of sympathy, in his expression.

“So, basically, if you want to keep your contracts and status in the community, they can’t see you as a regular person,” he mused. “How can you be the face of the goddess of sex and sin if the world sees you as a flesh and blood human being?”

“Pretty much.” I gave him a small smile. “And I don’t market sex and sin, just clothes.”

He gave me a small smile in return. “Tell that to anyone who’s seen your work.”

I drew in a breath, but before I could respond, he whirled around, heading back to where I assumed my room was located. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll have your room ready for you,” he called over his shoulder.

A curse had me following him down the hall. A teddy bear, holding a red rose, sat on top of the bed, placed between two decorative pillows. Oliver had charmed his way in. Probably paid off a maid with a twenty and a story about romantic love or some shit.

“I was focused on making sure there wasn’t a person hiding,” Brody explained. “I didn’t pay much attention to the bedding.”

I shrugged, knowing what he was talking about but also understanding why he was upset. True, a person was the most common threat he would have to worry about—especially knowing that a fan was starting to go off the deep end, but the stuffed animal could have been something much more sinister. I waited until Brody had taken a picture, knowing he needed to document the scene, before grabbing the bear, stomping to the kitchen, and tossing it into the trash.

“Do you want to change rooms?” Brody asked, shadowing me as I walked from the room.

“No need.” I waved a hand dismissively. “He’s long gone, and it’ll cause them a headache of massive proportions if I ask for another room. The hotel’s booked solid.” I knew I should have played up my concern or fear the way a normal person with a stalker would, but it was far from my first security concern, and I hated playing the damsel in distress. For whatever reason, I also didn’t want to pretend in front of Brody. My brothers might see me as Bimbo Barbie, but I didn’t want him to, even for a second.

He gave me an unreadable look, studying me carefully before slowly nodding his agreement. “Let me do one more sweep, just to be sure.”

I let him sweep the room twice and change the sheets—better safe than sorry with that one, considering what else Oliver could have left behind—before he finally gave me the all-clear.

As soon as he let me into my room, I practically sprinted for it, needing a shower in the worst way. I had yet to figure out why airplanes had their own stink when they controlled the air, filtration system, and seat materials, but I felt completely disgusting. Brody had thoughtfully placed both my suitcase and purse—which was big enough to be considered a shoulder bag—on stands, and I ripped them open, carefully studying the contents to see if someone had rifled through them, but nothing was out of place. Grabbing my pajamas and my bathroom kit, I paused and looked over the room. My need to check and recheck my security was too ingrained for me to let it go, even though I knew Brody had it covered. While I ensured Oliver didn’t leave anything else behind, I cataloged my bedroom. The hotel was old and charming, in an upscale grandeur kind of way, and my room was no different. A large king bed took up most of the room, the frame made of what looked to be antique hand-carved wood that matched the floors, which, despite their polishing, were clearly original and had the marks, nicks, and stains to prove it. The widows were old as well, the frames latching with an old-fashioned lock that a three-year-old with a knife could jimmy, but Brody had secured them with sensors that would trip if anyone tried to enter or exit. I walked to the window, looking as if I were pulling open the drapes an inch so that I could see into the darkness of the evening, trying to see if I could get around the devices if needed. But it was apparent that he’d either gotten the tech from A.T. or had his own contacts because they were not the cheap, easily fooled sensors I’d hoped for. Turning away, I pretended to examine a small black box on the dresser. Deciding I had better keep up my civilian cover, I sighed.

“Brody, you forgot something,” I called, hoping I sounded as ignorant as I was supposed to be. He appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, a kitchen knife in his hand. Seeing what I was looking at, he shook his head.

“That’s a jamming device. It prevents video or audio transmissions from working.”

I drew the clothes I still held to my chest. “You mean someone could have been watching me?” My eyes opened in alarm, and I whirled around as if to walk back to the window, but he stopped me.

“Keep the drapes closed,” he barked as I reached for them. “I have the windows secured so that no one can enter from the outside. The drapes will keep anyone from seeing in. This box will stop anyone from being able to set up a camera or listening device in here, just in case I missed anything in my sweep.”

“What about the bathroom?” I whispered, trying to think about what a civilian would do if they were in my shoes.

“You can talk normally,” he said with amusement. “No one can hear, remember? The device will cover your room and bathroom, so use them as you normally would.”

“What about my phone?” I picked it up from the side table and waved it for emphasis. “Can I still get my phone calls? Instagram? Twitter? How about Facebook?” I channeled my concern from the unease I still had at the thought I wouldn’t be able to reach out to anyone in my room, already knowing the answer to my question.

“I’m sorry to say that your phone and anything else that runs on data or Wi-Fi will not be available to you while in your room, but you can use all of them once you’re out of range. The living room is far enough from the device that you should have no issues using your apps.”

“What if I have an emergency?” I asked, looking disconcerted.

“That’s what you have me for.” His patient answer was firm as if he was waiting for my outburst but not about to change his mind.

“What are you making?” I changed the subject, looking down at the knife in his hand. Frowning, I continued, “I’m not an expert or anything, but is a kitchen knife the best weapon?”

I could kill someone twelve different ways with a spoon, but he didn’t need to know that. “Wouldn’t a gun be a better choice?”

He snorted. “I was cutting up some vegetables that were stocked in the refrigerator. I figured you’d be hungry. You had two cups of coffee, a bottle of water, and a bag of pretzels today. I was going to make you some dinner, but the options are a bit … sparse.”

I bit back a grin, knowing what he was talking about. If I had to guess, the fridge was stocked with still and sparkling water, celery, carrots, and lettuce—and no dressing or vinaigrette of any kind.

“The pretzels are our little secret,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “Salt causes bloating. I’m also supposed to fast for the shoot tomorrow, so I’m afraid they don’t stock anything that might cause me to slip from my diet plan today. But if you’re hungry, you’re more than welcome to call room service. I’m sure you need protein to keep in top form. At least, my brothers always say they do. And I fully intend on eating at least some veggies in there tonight, diet or not.”

I knew he’d ingested meat at every meal today, so he shouldn’t feel deprived of anything like I was. I’d reluctantly waved off the prepared meals served in first class, but he’d feasted on eggs and bacon for breakfast and roasted chicken with potatoes for lunch. He’d also snacked on a meat stick that he’d gotten from a vending machine when I asked him to get me a bottle of water. He looked relieved as he realized he was not required to eat the same rabbit food I was.

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