The Bodyguard (Norcross #4) - Anna Hackett Page 0,42
could.” Realization hit her. “This is why you joined the military? Became a bodyguard?”
He just stared at her.
This big, rugged, protective man was paying his penance and honoring his sister.
Like she did for Tori.
“Tell me about Lola,” Sofie said softly.
His eyes changed. “She loved to sing. Drove us crazy.”
As they finished their breakfast, he talked about his sister, telling stories that made them both smile.
Then the doorbell rang.
Rome rose and went to answer it. He came back with a large bouquet of flowers. They were huge, exotic blooms in shades of white and purple.
“Sorry, these aren’t from me,” he said.
“I get stuff like this all the time.” She grinned. “Besides, you’ve been a little too busy to order flowers.” She searched the blooms. “No card.”
“Yeah, the guards checked it. The florist said it was a cash sale.”
“Wait.” She crouched a little. There was a small envelope on the bottom of the vase. Sofie recognized the handwriting. Her gut cramped, and all her happiness drained away.
Rome cursed and set the flowers down. He took the envelope and flicked open the note. His face hardened.
She held out a hand.
He shook his head. “You don’t need to—”
“Rome, I won’t bury my head in the sand.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
She took the note.
You’re mine, Princess. No one else can have you. Only I will touch you. Only I will choke you and see your fear.
“Lovely.” She wrapped her arms around herself.
Rome hugged her. “I’m not letting this sicko close to you. Ever. I’ll protect you, Sofie, whatever it takes.”
Chapter Twelve
As Rome walked with Sofie into the Palace Hotel, every one of his nerves was tight. The extra guards who’d followed them from the house were two steps behind them.
He was still pissed about the flowers.
He’d spent an hour trying to find who’d sent them. All he’d found were dead ends.
The stalker was here in San Francisco. Rome could sense it.
Just like he could sense the bad vibe in the air.
Cameras clicked. Sofie, dressed in pants a color between gray and purple, and a pretty, billowy blouse made of shiny purple fabric, waved to the cameras. She looked elegant and beautiful. Her hair was out today in a gorgeous fall of strawberry blonde.
He wanted to scoop her up and carry her away.
What he hated most of all was the fact that the glow from their night together had dimmed. He saw a hint of fear in the back of her eyes, the stress in her body.
But she didn’t want to let her fans down. Or her charity. She waved and smiled graciously.
He hustled her into the hotel. Built in the late 1800s, the place was grand. He felt like he’d stepped into an emperor’s palace, with all the cream marble, arched ceilings, and enormous chandeliers.
There was a small line of people working its way into the luncheon. The charity luncheon was being held at the Garden Court restaurant. It was the main restaurant of the hotel, and on the first floor, but it was closed to the general public for the luncheon today.
The extra guards broke off to take up their assigned places. When a couple spied Sofia and started forward to talk to her, Rome scowled until they stepped back.
“Rome! That was rude,” she whispered.
“Don’t care. Your security is my main concern.”
“I don’t think that couple was my stalker.”
He grunted.
“You look so good in a suit.” She pressed a hand to his chest, a private smile on her lips. “I miss seeing the tattoo though.”
“Cameras and keen eyeballs,” he warned.
She winked and stepped back a little.
He liked seeing her more relaxed. “I didn’t tell you that you look beautiful.”
“But you prefer me naked?” Her voice was a low, private whisper.
He leaned in. “Yes.”
She shivered—that sexy, little wiggle that he loved. Finally, they reached the doorway to the Garden Court, and he watched her put on her princess face and straighten.
“Let’s do this so we can go home,” she said.
Home. He liked the sound of that.
It was even more opulent than the lobby, with a huge, curved-glass ceiling arching above. The chandeliers dangling overhead were even larger. There were some jewelry pieces displayed under glass on pedestals around the restaurant.
Rome walked a step behind Sofie, staying quiet and unobtrusive. This crowd was wealthy, and comfortable with bodyguards. He earned a few gazes. Some just gave passing glances, others barely seemed to notice him, and a couple of well-dressed women shot him speculative looks.
He ignored them all. He kept his focus on Sofie, and continued