Page 9 of Guarding the Star

“Any questions?” she says when she's done.

“Yeah. How long is this going to last?”

“Until the threat is neutralized.”

“And how long is that?”

“I don't know. Depends on the investigation. Could be tomorrow, could be months,” she says, shrugging.

“Great. Sounds like a blast,” I mutter.

“I'm not here to entertain you. I'm here to protect you,” she says, and it's the first time I catch something in her voice.

I look at Hades. She gives me a look that says: don't you dare. She knows me well.

“Fine,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Anything else?”

“Tonight we'll meet privately to establish the cover details. Our story, the limits of physical contact in public, the rules of communication. I need you available at nine. For now, you can tell your teammates that your girlfriend is very pissed about the photos of you throwing up, and she flew to Florida.”

I'd rather not hear that last part.

“Nine? I have plans,” I complain.

“Cancel them.”

It's not a suggestion. It's not a request. It's a fucking order. I'm going to have a girlfriend who gives me orders. Just what I needed.

I'm not used to people giving me orders. Well, yes, I am. Hades gives me orders all the time. But she's my coach, and I don't always listen. This woman has been in my life for twelve minutes.

“Nine,” I repeat. “My room. Don't be late, babe.”

Paula picks up her folder. Doesn't react to my comment. Stands. Says goodbye and walks out, closing the door behind her without a sound.

I stare at the closed door.

“Could be worse,” Hades says.

“In what universe could this be worse?”

“Could be someone you could manipulate. That woman is not going to let you get away with anything. That's a good thing,” my coach adds.

“Not good for me,” I grumble, and leave the room myself.

I half-run out and catch up to her at the end of the hall.

“Hey. Wait.”

She stops. Turns. Looks at me with that same face from before: total blank. She isn't even surprised I followed her.

“I'm not going to make this easy for you. It's nothing personal, I swear, it's just how I am. I'm not the obedient client who does what she's told. That's not my thing. But I get that this is your job, so we're cool. I just wanted you to know.”

“Iris,” she says, voice flat. “I'm not here for you to like me. I'm here to keep you alive. If you want to hate me, do it when nobody's watching. In public, pretend we get along great. If I tell you something, it's for your safety, even if you don't like it. What I won't allow is your ego putting your life at risk. So I'll see you at nine. In your room. See you later… babe,” she adds with a wink.

I watch her walk away until the hallway is empty. My mouth open. Not a single word available.

This doesn't happen to me. It never happens. I always have something. A joke, a smart comment, some kind of exit. Always. It's my thing. It's what I do. I'm Iris Vance, for God's sake. I have a comeback for everything. It's basically my brand.

And this woman just left me speechless.