Sweet Talker

by Robin Bielman

  They so are not, but I comply. A million times. Different punches, different kicks, until thank the heavens our time is up. I wipe the perspiration off my forehead. Catch my breath. Removing my gloves, I thank Dax for kicking my ass. He says he’ll see me tomorrow for weight lifting and moves on to his next victim. I mean client.

  Water never tasted so good as I empty my bottle. Dax knows how to get a body in shape, but my muscles are too exhausted and my throat still too parched to appreciate his expertise at the moment.

  This is what happens when you take time off to lick your wounds.

  A few familiar faces nod or smile as I make my way through the private gym to the locker room. Whenever I’m in LA, this is usually where I start my weekdays, and despite my grumbling, I’m happy to be here.

  Happy to be home.

  After my epic mishandling of my last assignment, I’ve been given a second chance and I’m not going to blow it.

  I undress at my locker, wrap a towel around myself, and then enter the steam room to decompress before I shower. I’ve just gotten comfortable and closed my eyes when the woman shrouded in steam at the other end of the wooden bench says, “Morning, sunshine.”

  “Good morning,” I say extra-cheerfully. I’m not a morning person, but I can fake it with the best of them. Serenity is no doubt shaking her head at my perky reply. She’s not only my boss, but one of my closest friends. She also thinks she can sneak up on me, but it never works. I caught a whiff of her rosemary mint soap outside the door.

  “You ready for today?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “You forgot to text me last night.”

  I forgot my own name last night when I locked eyes with Ethan. Periwinkle blue, they were more dazzling than they were ten years ago. Everything about Ethan was more than it was the summer we’d spent together. And that’s saying a lot considering I’d fallen hard and fast for his humor, confidence and sexy dimples. We’d literally bumped into each other on a Maui beach in front of the restaurant I was working at during my school vacation. He’d been diving for a football. I was lunging for a Frisbee. I’ll never forget the first words he said to me: “Crash here often?” I’d laughed and a few hours later he’d sweet-talked me right out of my bikini and into his bed.

  Serenity knows about my past with Ethan. His family does not. I’m not sure that would have made a difference in them secretly hiring me to protect him, though. My last detail aside, my reputation as one of the best female bodyguards in the business precedes me.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “I can pull you and put someone else on the assignment.”

  I open my eyes to find Serenity has moved beside me. “No, you can’t. For one, I’ve already been introduced as Royal’s new manager. And two, Liza Auprince asked for me specifically and someone as influential and renowned as she is gets what she wants.”

  “You’ve also been intimate with the client.”

  “A long time ago.”

  “Time doesn’t always erase feelings.”

  “Okay, fine. It was harder to see Ethan than I thought it would be, but when he didn’t recognize me, I quickly got over any sentiment.” I take a deep breath, let it out slowly. Not because of emotions, I lie to myself, but to further relax my post-workout body. I can’t really fault Ethan for not remembering me. I have changed. Inside and out.

  “I can do this job,” I continue. “And do it well.”

  “I know you can, but I’m not sure it was fair of me to put you in this position given what happened with Grant and—”

  “We said we’d never speak his name again.”

  “Pascale,” she says in her we’re-friends-not-co-workers voice.

  “This is the perfect job for me right now and you know it. The threat to Ethan isn’t high, I love being in a restaurant environment, and now I can water my plants in person.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “The worst thing about this is I have to lie to him.”

  I work for Serenity Security, a prestigious executive protection agency Serenity’s father started over two decades ago. We’re the go-to for female bodyguards, dispelling the notion that executive protection is exclusively a boys’ club. Quite the contrary. Women are actually more suited for the work for various reasons, one being we can blend in with little effort. It’s easy for a woman to assume the role of nanny, tutor, childhood friend, or in my case, restaurant manager. Sheer size isn’t enough to stop a dangerous situation anymore. Our company’s motto is brains over brawn. Don’t let my lean body fool you, though. I can rip someone’s heart out as fast as I can steal it.

  “You’re not lying, just withholding certain information. Per his family’s request, mind you, so you can’t be held culpable.”

  “He’s not going to be happy when he finds out. He’s close to them.” He shared all sorts of stories with me the summer we spent together, and more recently I’ve done my research. The Auprince family is tight.

  “Again, not our concern. Your job is strictly to keep Ethan safe.”

  “Which will be harder with him in the dark.” Even if he does a search of me online, he won’t find anything pointing to Serenity Security. I’m not on social media and the company keeps our names confidential for safety reasons.

  “You’re creative. I’m confident you’ll figure things out.”

  “On that note…” I get to my feet. “I’m going to shower and then head over to the restaurant for my first day of training.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks, Ren.” I take a few steps, turn around. “I won’t let you down this time.” Before she can respond, I pivot and open the door. I don’t want to hear her say I wasn’t the only one to blame, that it was Grant who…blah, blah, blah. The truth is my reputation and my job are on the line if I mess up again.

  I’m dressed and outside Royal an hour later. Sitting on a piece of prime real estate with an ocean view in Santa Monica, Royal is the hottest restaurant in Los Angeles. Celebrities, dignitaries, and a real prince or two have eaten here. The restaurant is closed Mondays so today Charlotte is training me. Not that I’ll need a ton of instruction. It’s been a long time since I’ve managed a restaurant, but I remember everything from my high school and early college years. Once upon a time my best friend and I even wanted to open our own coffee bar and café. I falter for a moment, remembering Hillary and the plans we’d made. It’s been ten years but I still miss her every day. If she hadn’t been killed, I know we would have followed through on that dream. Instead, her murder led me down an entirely new path.

  I check myself out in the window, making sure my charcoal-gray ruched long-sleeve dress looks okay. Black boots leave only my knees exposed to the cool February air. My hair is pinned up. “You’ve got this,” I tell my reflection. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to give myself a pep talk and I hate that my history with Ethan is cause for hesitation.

  A gorgeous yellow rose bouquet sits atop the reservation desk inside Royal’s front door. I expect to see Charlotte standing behind the flowers so I’m caught completely off guard when it’s Ethan’s handsome face I find instead. “Hi,” I stammer.

  “Good morning.”

  His deep, friendly voice in combination with his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders do indeed make this moment “good” but I silently scold myself for such thoughts.

  “Ah, still not a morning person,” he says. “Come on. I can fix that.”

  “Where’s Charlotte?” I follow him to a back table where coffee is set up.

  “She’s a little hungover this morning so I told her to take her time.” He pulls out a chair for me. “Besides, you didn’t think I was going to let you jump in without us talking first, did you?” He pours me a cup of coffee then adds a touch of milk and a pinch of sugar.

  “You remember how I like my coffee.”

  “I remember everything about you, Callie.” He takes the chair across from me.

  My body warms as the nickname rolls off his tongue like he said it yeste
rday. Like he’s missed saying it, which is ridiculous. Ethan is American royalty, his family one of the wealthiest and most influential in the world with their hotel empire. Ethan and his younger brothers, Finn and Drew, are admired by people everywhere. Since the day he was born, Ethan’s been in the spotlight, and nineteen-year-old Pascale may have kept his attention for a summer, but I was under no delusions it would last.

  Ethan’s eyes zero in on my mouth and stay there as I blow on my coffee before taking a sip. We had this immediate and intense chemistry in Hawaii, and the same sensation percolates now, surprising me. It’s like the years between us have disappeared, which both helps and hurts the situation. I need Ethan’s trust to protect him, but I also need to keep my distance to protect myself.

  “Tell me about Royal,” I say. “And the responsibilities you’d like me to fulfill.”

  “Staff scheduling, inventory, event planning, marketing, advertising, and first and foremost, customer service. All under my direction, so we’ll be working closely together.” The list rolls off his tongue almost like he rehearsed it.

  “Sounds good.” Great, really. I need to have eyes on him as much as possible at work. The more difficult—make that impossible—task will be keeping him safe away from Royal. This is where being creative will come in. Fortunately, whoever is harassing him is doing so only at the restaurant.

  “With the praises Charlotte sang, I can’t believe your former employer didn’t fight to keep you.”

  My story is I’ve moved back to LA from Seattle, ready to return to my hometown. The fancy restaurant résumé checks out thanks to Serenity and her special set of skills. “Once I make a decision, I stick to it,” I say in lieu of a direct lie. I hate lying and if I can avoid out-and-out dishonesty by using words that appease us both, I will.

  “And you decided working at Royal and seeing my handsome face every day was the best option for you.” A flash of dimples accompanies his lack of modesty.

  A woman could seriously lose her head over those sexy indentations, so it’s a good thing I’m a trained professional.

  “I didn’t decide that, Charlotte did, so I went with it.”

  “Why didn’t you immediately say hello last night?”

  “Why didn’t you immediately recognize me?” I fire back, letting my hurt show for a minute. It’s best we get this all out in the open now and move on. “And say hello first.”

  He regards every inch of my face, his gaze slowly tracking from my hairline across my forehead, to my left eye, then the right, to my nose and cheeks, my chin. “That’s not really my fault. You’ve changed.”

  “Bar brawl,” I tease, knowing he means my nose. It’s not too far off the mark. Despite my martial arts and kick boxing know-how, there was one perpetrator who got the better of me. He broke my nose in several places and damaged my nasal septum, requiring reconstructive surgery to fix.

  “Was that listed under experience on your résumé?” he teases back.

  “I didn’t have room to list all my experiences.”

  “No doubt.” He holds my gaze, a decision weighing on him from the slight crease in the corners of his eyes. “Why’d you leave without saying goodbye?” His voice is calm, cool, curious.

  “Last night?”

  “Try again.” Oh. This is a man with the world at his fingertips since the day he was born, so the question is one I never expected.

  “I had a family emergency.” I play with the thin silver rings on my middle finger, one etched with the word friends, the other with the word forever.

  “And you didn’t think I’d want to know that?”

  “I didn’t know what to think.” It’s the truth. Yes, we were inseparable that summer, and yes, I told him things I’d never told anyone else. Shared my body with him in ways I’d never done before. But I was just a regular girl on summer break from UC Santa Barbara and he was from one of the most well-known families in the world, on his way to Harvard Business School.

  “I loved you,” he says with sincerity and disappointment.

  My heart stops. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  I loved him, too, but we never so much as hinted to each other that love was involved. “We didn’t talk about what we felt for each other.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less true. When you left without a word I was gutted. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong.”

  “Nothing. You did nothing wrong.”

  “Then what happened?”

  There is never an easy way to say this, and my stomach always knots when I even think about it, but Ethan deserves the truth here. “My best friend was murdered.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Yes.” I pause to consider how much to share with him before I realize I want him to know everything. Almost everything. Her murder was the reason I got into executive protection. “She was being stalked by an ex-boyfriend. He was infatuated with her. He stalked her in person, on social media, with emails and letters. She didn’t tell anyone at first because he wasn’t threatening her, per se, and she felt bad for breaking up with him. But then things turned obsessive and she got scared. When he wouldn’t back off, she finally told her parents. They were in the process of getting a restraining order when she was home alone one day. He showed up wanting to talk and she let him inside. He shot her in the entryway.”

  Ethan covers my hand with his. “Jesus. I’m so sorry. This happened to Hillary?”

  My eyes tear up. I can’t believe he remembers her name. I nod.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Pascale? I would have flown home with you.”

  Doubt bubbles under the surface of my gratitude. It’s easy for him to say that now, but what would have been the point? He had a life planned without me and I told myself to live that summer to the fullest and then walk away. He’s right that it was wrong of me to leave without a goodbye. But I was devastated by Hillary’s death and I could barely acknowledge her passing to myself, let alone to someone else. All I could think about was getting on a plane as fast as I could.

  “I didn’t want you to.” That’s a lie.

  He pulls his hand back. “So that whole summer meant what to you?”

  Everything. It meant everything. But everything has an expiration date. “A good time.” I can’t leave myself vulnerable here. Can’t tell him how much I loved him back. There is no room in our new relationship to be sentimental, not when I’m sitting across from him under false pretenses.

  “Thanks for clearing that up for me.” He stands.

  “You’re welcome.” It kills me to be so uncaring, but I’m an expert at pretending. I get to my feet, too, standing my ground even though my legs shake ever so slightly. “Should we get to work?”

  “Yes. Let’s—”

  “Hellooo!” a woman calls out from over my shoulder. I turn around.

  “Hello, Grandmother,” Ethan says.

  Grandma Rosemary. The petite, sophisticated matriarch of the family. She smiles at her grandson with unmistakable fondness. He kisses her cheek.

  “You’re a little early,” Ethan says.

  “I wanted to meet your new manager.”

  “How did you know—never mind.” His don’t-bother tone is cute and tells me Grandma Rosemary likes to be in his business. Much to his dismay.

  “Hi, I’m Pascale.” She knows who I am, but we’ve never personally met. I’m surprised to see her today.

  “Lovely to meet you, Pascale. I’m Rosemary.” She hooks her arm with mine. “Now come join me for lunch.”

  “Umm…” I cast a glance at Ethan.

  “Don’t worry about him,” she says.

  Ethan shakes his head with obvious affection for his grandmother. “Go ahead. I’ll tell Louis to make up three plates.”

  “I have lunch here every Monday,” she tells me. “I hate crowds, but enjoy eating out and Louis likes to try new recipes on me.” Quietly she adds, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  We stop at a square table in the middle o
f the room. White tablecloth, classic silverware, water goblets. “Me, too,” I whisper back.

  She looks at me oddly and I realize I sound like someone who has known and cared for Ethan before today.

  Serenity and I talked about Ethan’s family inevitably discovering he and I once knew each other and how would that look for my credibility. We decided ten years was long enough to maintain my integrity. I was nineteen. It was one carefree, albeit unforgettable, summer.

  “You’re taller than I pictured,” Rosemary says as we each pick a seat at the table.

  “You pictured my new manager?” Ethan asks, arriving in time to pull out his grandmother’s chair. He helps scoot her in before choosing to sit beside me.

  “I picture everyone. Mental imagery helps keep my mind sharp. Just the other day I pictured Chris Hemsworth in nothing but—”

  “Stop right there,” Ethan interrupts, holding up his hand. “We don’t need to know—”

  “That he’s Thor-oly packing?”

  I press my lips together to keep from laughing. Rosemary is a spitfire. I like her.

  “See what I did there?” she says, looking directly at me. I nod. “At least in my dirty mind he is.”

  Ethan drops his head and rubs a few fingers across his forehead. “Can you please keep our conversations G-rated?”

  Rosemary rolls her eyes. “My grandsons hate when I mention sex or nudity.”

  “Among other things,” Ethan mutters with far more warmth than irritation.

  “Anytime you want to chat about off-limits topics, I’m happy to talk with you,” I say, genuinely taken with Rosemary. My grandmothers won’t even say the word ‘sex’ aloud. My grandparents on both sides each have two children and the joke in my family is that’s also the number of times they’ve had sex.

  “Great.” Rosemary hands me her cell phone. “Put your digits in, would you?”

  I chuckle. “Um, sure.”

  “Dial it back there, Grandma,” Ethan says. “You can’t hijack my manager within two minutes of meeting her.”

  “Sharing is caring,” Rosemary deadpans.

  Ethan and I exchange a quick look and then break out into big grins. Rosemary could no doubt sell wool to a sheep farmer. Satisfied with her rebuttal, she places her cloth napkin in her lap and settles more comfortably into her seat while I input my number.