He let the scene speak to him.
All the new construction, and the open gate at the complex’s main entrance, allowed hundreds of non-vetted workers, of all types and backgrounds, access to every square yard of this huge compound. Including the mostly vacant newer building where she lived, judging by the lack of cars in the lot.
As Sophia continued along the walkway, he saw she remained oblivious to her surroundings. Not even noticing the pungent scent of fresh mulch hanging heavy in the air. Three workers—in black pants and white t-shirts and black hats with a logo on them—installed greenery at the front of the building next to hers.
The guys paused in their efforts to watch Sophia walk up to her building. They shot open glances her way, with enough intent to make the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
As she unlocked the door to the common entrance, Liam stepped closer to her—making it clear they were together. Before he joined her inside, he paused to send them each a warning glare. At once, the three men returned to their task of planting a shrub nearby. Too near for Liam’s comfort.
Had Sophia even noticed them staring at her? He doubted it.
From what little he understood of her, he suspected she was a creature of habit. Did she know how dangerous any of these workers milling around could be, watching her patterns, knowing she came and went—alone?
He met her inside the common lobby, where she’d stopped at her one of sixteen metal mailboxes to retrieve her mail. Most of the slots alongside hers were blank.
“How many people live in this building with you?” he asked.
“What? I don’t know. People move in and out all the time. It’s Vegas.”
“Who are your neighbors?” he specified.
She waved at the mere six names, out of a possible sixteen, stuck on the mailboxes alongside hers. “They live here.”
“Have you met them?”
“A few. We pass in the halls sometimes.”
Not an encouraging answer.
Then he realized the door behind him hadn’t clicked shut. He retraced his steps and manually pull the door closed. He eyed her with something close to horror. “Sophia, the front door didn’t shut behind you.”
She didn’t bother glancing up, too focused on sifting through her mail. “Thanks for closing it.”
He strode to her and grasped her shoulders, needing to convey the importance of the issue. “Don’t you get it? Anyone could’ve followed you in here, and potentially assaulted you.”
Her hands trembled. Two fliers slid through her fingers to the floor. Her eyes went wide with shock. “Could that really happen—here?”
“I just showed you it could. You didn’t check the front door after you entered. Did you even notice the landscapers staring at you as you walked inside?” He knew he lacked his usual finesse.
But she couldn’t stay safe and innocent. He needed her to be aware the world was a dangerous place, filled with more darkness than she could imagine.
How had she grown up in Vegas, and not known that truth with every fiber of her being?
She’d been sheltered. On the whole, a good thing. But also dangerous, and he wouldn’t always be around to protect her. No matter how strong the urge galloped through his veins.
Her shoulders slumped. “I guess…I’m not used to thinking like that. Like everyone I cross paths with is out to get me.”
A storm of frustration brewed inside him. He couldn’t let it show. He was supposed to be the professional, damn it.
“I know.” He slid his hands from her shoulders, trailing his palms down her bare arms. He noticed bumps rise along her flesh before his touch finally left her. He picked up the junk mail at her feet and handed it back to her. “Just be more aware. Be careful. I’d hate to think of anything bad happening to you.”
With a gulp, she nodded and turned to the second door, with a ten-digit call-in beside it. She punched in the numbers, the same as her code for the front gate.
Suspended over the door, the blinking red light of a camera caught his eye. A breath of relief left his chest. Though he doubted they were monitored with even a modicum of the vigilance Atlas’s casino screening room employed. Few could afford anything close to that. Definitely not a girl about to pour all her savings into starting a new business.
That’s why I’m here, he reminded himself.
During their brief time together, he hoped to instill a little more vigilance in her. If he could, he’d feel better when they finally parted ways. As he thought about that, he found a hollowness took up residence in his chest. One that had no business being there.
Tomorrow, after she passed Logan’s technical interview and returned home on his company’s jet, he’d take it upon himself to contact her condo association, to voice his issues with their gaping security holes. Being the CEO of a security company, he figured his status would gain someone’s attention. As a last resort, he’d put his name to decent use—versus attracting reporters from the Denver newspapers’ society pages, he thought, annoyed they showcased his family there too often. Here in Vegas, he’d maintained connections to people in prominent places, people he’d met as a high-profile bounty hunter. Powerful lawyers, for instance. One call from a top Vegas law office to her condo association could go far. He knew from experience, having done favors for those people along the way.
Remembering the sense of pride those connections had given him, he almost missed that old life. Almost.
Silently, he thanked Trey for the hundredth time, for moving them up and out of this den of hedonism and thieves. Maybe he was too cautious, because he’d seen the worst people were capable of, glad Sophia had miraculously remained untouched by it all. She was so damn innocent—not just for the casino heist, but in every aspect. A rare, precious gem embedded in a dark tunnel of coal.
Fierce protectiveness rose up inside him.
“Take my word for it,” he said, as they mounted a flight of stairs to the second floor. “This city is crawling with people who’ll take advantage of you without a second thought. Just because they can.”
She exhaled. “Hello, I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve read the police blotters. Bad things happen everywhere. I can’t live in fear, constantly questioning everyone and everything. But you’re right,” she conceded. “I should be more cautious.”
She should be. Would she?
“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. You don’t know this city like I do. You are one unlocked door away from disaster.”
“Okay! I get it.” Sounding flustered, she made two attempts to insert her key before unlocking her door.
But it wasn’t locked. No sound of a sliding bolt echoed in the hallway.
She bit her lip and looked up at him guiltily, like he might scold her. “I left in a hurry this morning. I must’ve forgotten to turn the bolt.” Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked in a calm tone, because she’d proven his point. Her lack of safety gave him no reason to gloat. He just hoped his observations had, literally, hit home.
“Like you just said ‘I told you so’ without saying it.”
He blinked slowly.
Redness infused her cheeks. “Don’t give me that slow blink, either, Mr. Know-It-All. We’re not in the interrogation room anymore.”
Pleased with her observation, he spread his arms innocently. “Want me to go in first, check things out?”
Rolling her eyes, she pushed through the door. “No, I’m sure everything’s fine.”
Except, she hesitated. She peered inside, entering slowly, her actions conflicting with her bold statement. If an intruder was inside, she had nothing to worry about. Liam would flatten the guy in under ten seconds.
He was glad he’d made it clear he would accompany her while she packed an overnight bag. He would have, regardless of Atlas’s demand Liam keep her in his sights, at all times.
Sophia was more than a job to him. He chose not to investigate th
at thought further.
One idea consumed him. He felt compelled to find out, through stealthy observation, if there was a man in her life. Someone she might’ve kept checking her phone for. Someone who should be here, by her side, through this ordeal—but wasn’t.
My job, now.
A touch of possessiveness accompanied his private claim.
Looking around, he nodded in appreciation. “You have a nice place.”
“I told you it was,” she retorted in a sing-song voice.
He grinned. “If only the security was up to par.”
“Give it a rest,” she groaned.
No problem, he thought. Until I call the manager of your condo association tomorrow.
Not just to defend Sophia’s well-being, he told himself. There had to be other single women in this sprawling development, who deserved proper protection, too. Preventing crimes of opportunity meant fewer potential victims. It just made sense.
“I can brew some coffee,” she offered.
“Sounds great.”
Setting her purse on the counter, she went through the motions, filling the carafe with water, measuring out the grounds, turning on the machine. She handed him a mug from the cupboard.
Their fingers overlapped. She took a half-step back, but didn’t release the mug.
As her gaze traveled upward, her eyes widened.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Her heel scuffed the floor when she took another half-step backward. “You’re…” She swallowed. “You’re really tall.”
“Your powers of observation are getting better,” he said with a wink. “My heritage descends from a long line of hearty Vikings.”
“No, I mean really, really tall.” She cleared her throat, her cheeks turning pink with a blush. “Sorry, that sounded stupid when I heard myself say it out loud. I’m usually taller than most of the men I meet. I’ve gotten used to it. But you even tower over me.”
An unexpected silence drew out between them. If he wasn’t in charge of her protection, he might’ve caved to the urge to draw the coffee mug closer, lean down and kiss her.
The breath caught in her throat. The top fringe of her lashes fluttered. Her fingers sprang from the mug, momentarily entwining with his, before letting go. “I-I’ll go pack.”
When she’d moved out of earshot, he braced his hands on the counter and released a tense exhale.
That was the hottest moment of the past year of his life.
Ironically, he’d started dating and then broken up with Jules during that year. Not a single minute with his ex-girlfriend had compared to the combustible heat contained in that one second with Sophia.
Staring at the intricate layers of color in her granite countertop, he collected himself. What just happened was the reason, five minutes before, he hadn’t wanted to delve into why Sophia was more than a job to him.
Now, it was clear.
I want her.
Wanted to be there for her, as much as he wanted to be with her.
The admission hit him with enough force to knock the wind out of him.
This was beyond problematic. For any number of reasons flashing across his mind, that he found himself not caring about, as much as he cared about her. She’d burrowed into a spot inside his chest he’d half believed was dead. Not so, apparently. He just hadn’t found the right woman.
The fall scent of pumpkin-pie-spiced coffee filled his nose. The color of a bright orange pumpkin, gleaming in the sunlight, reminded him of her eyes.
Those haunting eyes.
They seemed to see right through him.
Damn, he needed to get a grip. This was not like him.
He thought of his brother, Adam.
A year ago, Liam would’ve bet his bank account that his brother would be the last holdout—the one who’d never settle down, never get hitched, never devote himself to one woman. That had all changed when Marissa entered Adam’s life.
Liam had never seen a man so devoted, so in love.
That wasn’t one-hundred-percent true, he admitted, staring at the counter, identifying snowflake-patterns of granite that sparkled like quartz amid the splotches of muted tan and brown. His cousins Trey and Cade had looked at their wives with the same reverence, the same complete adoration. Just a few months ago, Cade and his fiancé, Kylie, had eloped to a small island near South Carolina to get married.
In a month from now, his brother would get hitched, and he was the best man. Maybe that’s where this conflict inside him stemmed from—his strident disbelief in love, in the institution of marriage. Because things hadn’t worked between him and Jules? Or the indelible pain inflicted first-had from his parents? Any of the above was possible.
Regardless, he couldn’t deny the electric charge, just now, between him and Sophia.
Did it mean something? Something worth exploring?
He didn’t know.
Hell, at the moment, he didn’t know which way was up.
Drip-dribble-drip.
The coffee finished brewing. He focused on that.
When the last drop rippled in the carafe, he poured a mug, tossed in three spoons of sugar along with three splashes of creamer, and stirred until it was the perfect shade of light caramel. He sipped—and began to spy on Sophia.
He absorbed every detail of her place and filed it away. People’s homes revealed things about them rarely unveiled through conversation alone.
In her case, she was neat and tidy—not a single crumb on the countertop near her toaster or stain on the white carpeting. Books on her living room shelves were spaced evenly by height, grouped by category. Not too anal retentive, at least they weren’t filed by author last name. If that had been the case, they would’ve had no chance of dating. He was too who-cares to be with an ultimate organizer. She seemed pretty damned organized, though, everything in its place, smudge and dust free.
One notable exception was a pile of unread magazines on the corner of a desk straddling an invisible line between the dining and living rooms, filled with coupon books and mailers she probably had good intentions of going through hunting for deals. Something she never found time for, because more important things required her attention. He smiled.
He peeked in the fridge. Pre-made containers of meals for the week were stacked on the left side nearest to the countertop. Three lunches and two dinners left. A carafe of iced tea sat next to the filtered water pitcher. Bagged lettuce and cucumbers were nestled beside dark-skinned avocados and bright heirloom tomatoes. Citrus in the crisper. Half a bottle of chardonnay with a fancy label sat tucked beside almond milk and orange juice on the door.
He arched an eyebrow. Who opens a bottle of wine and saves half?
Overall, a far cry from his high-tech, double-wide refrigerator, with Styrofoam takeout boxes crammed into any available spot—until a twelve-pack of Molson required he forage for room. Eventually, he tossed out the crustiest mystery boxes. Or his housekeeper got fed up with the smell and emptied the fridge for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a homemade dinner. Jules hadn’t been the domestic type. Even before he’d broken up with her a few months back, he couldn’t miss her cooking. He definitely didn’t miss her interior design taste. He grimaced, thinking of the disaster she’d left behind in his house.
None of the women he’d dated was the Holly Homemaker type. Those qualities had always made him shudder. Too much like domesticity and settling down.
Settling, period.
As his perceptive gaze skipped around the open-concept condo, he noticed one obvious absence.
There was no trace of a man in her life. No cheesy couple selfies on side tables. No posed vacation snapshots on the fireplace mantel. No protein powder sitting on top of the refrigerator, because the containers didn’t fit in normal-sized cupboards. No guy food inside the fridge. No guy books on the shelves. No DVDs featuring Arnold Schwarzenegger in the rack by the small entertainment system, hosting a modest-sized TV.
He sigh
ed with relief.
Then he wondered. Why did this confirmation of her single status leave him elated?
In her condo, she’d painted the kitchen a soothing light blue. He continued investigating. Her dining room table was a small rectangle, since the circular leaves were in a drop-down position, a chair posted at either end. It didn’t appear she hosted many dinner parties. Thank God. He hated those stupid social gatherings people used as an excuse to meet up with friends and drink too much. He didn’t require an excuse, just a bar and his brother and cousins, along with some of the guys from the new elite team they’d created at their bodyguard company.
Socializing for the sake of showing off bored him to tears. Maybe that’s why Jules had cheated on him—he’d turned out to be too ordinary, too boring. He shrugged.
The color Sophia chose for her living room was basic beige, hemmed in by white wood trim along the ceilings and floorboards. Her couch matched the neutral decor, a dark tan microfiber suede. He respected comfort over aesthetic beauty.
He continued to inspect the space, out of duty as much as intrigue. He saw recent divots in the carpet, that no amount of vacuuming could cover up. The space had once been configured differently.
In the opposite corner, he noticed unusual imprints embedded in the carpet. They looked like impressions where an art easel had made its mark. And he would know. Before her dreams had been systematically obliterated by his father, his mother Leah had been an aspiring artist.
Liam inspected the carpet near the impressions. A few splatters of paint had left almost imperceptible pinpricks in the tight threads.
Is this where Sophia had created mysterious masterpieces, unseen by anyone? Hidden away, where no one would ask her about them? Or find her creative side more fascinating than accountant who wanted to start her own company?
There was so much more to her. He wanted to know it all.
A flash of concern hit him, wondering if someone who didn’t appreciate her hobby had encouraged her to give it up, stash her creativity in some back closet meant to be forgotten, like old photo albums, no longer relevant. He hated that thought.
The Billionaire's Seduction (Billionaire Bodyguards Book 5) Page 6
