The Bodyguard (Norcross #4) - Anna Hackett Page 0,14
safe requires more than just guarding the body. You need to understand them, their light and shadows. All their hopes and secrets.”
Secrets? What secrets did Sofia have?
The designer gave Rome another thorough once-over, sighed, then sailed out the door.
Rome wandered back, glancing at the stairs.
Sofia had a few phone interviews throughout the afternoon. Another hour passed, and she still hadn’t appeared.
Their first off-site interview was tomorrow at the television station. He had everything prepped for security. She also had a photo shoot at City Hall, where she was going to pose with some of the jewels for the promotion of the gala. Sorting out security in such a public place had been a headache, but he’d finally gotten it all arranged.
When she still didn’t come down, he went up to check on her.
Dead silence.
Rome felt a brush of sensation across the back of his neck. Was she napping?
“Princess Sofia?” No answer. He stopped at her bedroom door and knocked. “Princess?”
No answer.
But as he leaned closer, he heard noise. Movement.
He pulled the Glock from his holster and shoved through the door.
Then he froze.
Sofia froze as well—right in the middle of jumping on her giant bed.
She was in her yoga gear again, earbuds in her ears, and a half-eaten Whopper in one hand.
She eyed the gun, then pulled her earphone out of her ear. “Rome…” Pink flushed her cheeks. “I was just…um...” She pushed at some hair that had escaped the messy knot on the top of her head. “I guess you can’t pretend you never saw this?”
He cocked a brow and slid his weapon away.
With a sigh, she bounced and dropped to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Well, I’ll have you know that this giant bed has been begging me to jump on it, and I love Whoppers. Luis snuck it in for me.”
“Why didn’t you just order it?”
“It’s just not done. It doesn’t fit with what everyone believes a princess should do, or eat.” She smoothed her hand over the covers. “Nor does jumping on the bed.”
“Like an excited kid.” She was nothing like he’d expected.
“Can we keep it between us?” she asked, hopefully.
Rome nodded. “Princess, I’m here to keep you safe. I don’t judge.”
She nodded. “Just to keep me safe. Right.”
He saw the faint flash of something in her eyes before she looked down.
He followed her gaze, and noticed her feet were bare. Damn, even her feet were beautiful. Her toenails were painted a soft pink.
No one looking at her now would think that the cool, haughty, ice princess who’d arrived off the jet yesterday was this woman. She looked like a college student.
“But if you want a Whopper,” he said, “just say so. I’ll order it and say it’s for me.”
Her head snapped up and she shot him a bright smile. “Thanks, Rome.” She leaped up and hugged him.
He stiffened, his brain telling him to step back.
But she felt so good. Smelled so good. He slid an arm around her. There were so many contradicting pieces to Sofia of Caldova, and they were all too damn attractive.
She hugged him tighter and beamed up at him. “I also think it’s time you call me Sofie. All my friends do.”
Sofie. That suited her much, much better.
“I’m not sure it’s appropriate,” he forced himself to say. He also forced himself to let her go and step back.
Her smile dimmed, but she rolled her eyes. “People are always so worried about what’s correct—” she did air quotes “—but I prefer to do what’s right. How about Sofie behind closed doors, and Princess Sofia out there?” She jerked her head toward the window.
“Deal. I’m guessing you don’t need lunch.”
She patted her belly. “No.”
“Then I want to go over the gala.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Do you go over everything with a fine-tooth comb?”
“Yes.”
They settled in at the kitchen island. She made them coffee.
“The gala’s being held at Bently Reserve,” he said.
“Yes. They’re going to do up the grand Banking Hall to be dazzling. The space sounds incredible. Twenty-five-foot-tall Doric columns flank the room, and there’s hand-painted travertine walls and Italian-marble floor tiles. Not to mention two stunning chandeliers. The jewelry will be displayed on the main floor and on the mezzanine level. Under bulletproof glass, of course. The jewelry pieces all have royal connections, and they’ll have one real princess on hand.”
Her smile dimmed a little. Rome guessed that being on display wasn’t always appealing to her.
“Security for the gala will be tight,” he said, “but I’m not taking any chances. I’ll be