The Bodyguard (Norcross #4) - Anna Hackett Page 0,8
support?” Vander asked.
“No. We’re safe at her rental house now, and the exterior guards are in place, along with the increased security system.” Rome huffed out a breath. “But shit, I should never have let her get that close to the crowd.”
“Let me guess, she talked you into it?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s fine, Rome, that’s the main thing.” Vander paused. “You read the brief from Prince Nicholas’ head of security?”
Rome’s gut tightened. “She has a stalker.”
“So far, it’s just threatening notes, but the guy knows her schedule. Let’s hope he hasn’t followed her Stateside.”
Rome narrowed his gaze. Let the asshole come, and Rome would be happy to teach him a lesson.
“Stay sharp, Rome. Keep me updated.”
“Yeah. Later, Vander.”
A quick call to Hunt confirmed the man with a knife was just a local crazy with a deep hatred of anything royal. He claimed he was the long-lost love child of some British royal. He’d been arrested twice for causing problems when various royals had visited.
Rome needed to keep his head in the game…and not on a certain princess’ sexy body and beautiful face.
He made a quick trip outside to organize for her suitcases to be brought in. Someone had retrieved her handbag as well. He also checked in with the team of exterior guards. He’d hand-picked them all himself, and set up their rotating schedule.
Back inside, he heard footsteps, and turned.
With a smile, Sofia walked into the bright, airy kitchen and living area. “Oh, this is even nicer than the photos.” Her smile widened. “I’d love a house like this one.”
She was still wrapped in the robe, but she’d tied her hair up in a messy knot on top of her head. No one looking at her right now would think she was a princess.
“What’s your place like back in Caldova?” he asked.
“I live in the palace. I have my own apartment in one wing.” A look crossed her face. “But I dream of a house like this, all of my own. Not big and palatial, not too small. Just right.”
Rome eyed her. Funny that most people with normal houses would probably kill to live in a palace.
“My bag!” She took it from him. “Thank you.” She set it on the coffee table.
“Your luggage is in the master bedroom upstairs. And I wanted to go over your schedule so I can ensure all your event security is arranged.”
“A few things have been added to the itinerary since it was sent to you.”
Rome grunted. He hated surprises.
She sat on the couch and wiggled into the soft cushions. She curled her legs under her and pulled out a sleek, silver laptop. He’d noticed that about her—outside, she was all polished and elegant, but behind closed doors she relaxed and enjoyed being comfortable.
“Here.” She turned the screen to face him.
He sat beside her and her scent hit him—a subtle, floral fragrance that teased the senses. Ignoring it—or trying to—he focused on the screen.
He grunted. “You have a lot of interviews.”
“To increase awareness of the Royal Jewelry Exhibition and Gala, which in turn, raises money for my charity.”
“Charity?”
She nodded. “The Victoria Foundation. It supports domestic-violence victims. Mainly women, and often children, escaping terrible situations.”
He eyed her for a second before he turned back to the screen. He kept reading, his scowl deepening. “Photo shoot?”
She nodded. “With the jewels. It’s part of the promotion.”
He released a breath. “Okay. Email me a copy, and I’ll start working on the security logistics.”
Nodding, she tapped the screen. “Done. I have some jewelry pieces with me, but the main pieces are arriving tomorrow with an escort.”
He nodded. “That’s all been arranged. We had a safe installed here. It’s a new prototype from Rivera Tech that hasn’t hit the market yet. A Riv3000.”
“My father swears by Rivera safes.”
“Any other surprises?” Rome asked.
She arched a blonde brow. “Did you expect me to just sit around, having baths and going to the spa?”
He crossed his arms, watching her with a narrow stare. “How about we talk about your stalker?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Not a pleasant subject to discuss on an empty stomach. I’m hungry.” She rose and strode into the kitchen. “Let’s eat, then you can pepper me with questions about crazy stalkers.”
Sofie loved the dark-gray granite countertops. Everything in the kitchen gleamed—the granite, the white cabinets, the appliances. It wasn’t too sleek and modern, but it wasn’t lacking anything, either. It was the kind of kitchen where hungry kids would sit at the island with their homework, and tired parents could share a glass of wine