Deep Under (Tall, Dark and Deadly #4)(37)

Entering the glossy white lobby, I observe the pictures of stylish, bright colored clothing painted on glass windows, unbidden, the elation of a dream realized, if only for these few fantasy moments, washes over me. “It’s beautiful,” I murmur, turning in a circle to take it all in.

“Myla!”

At my name, I face forward and blink the pretty blonde behind an oval stainless steel desk into view, finding her standing up to greet me, her suit dress as white as the leather chairs and couch behind me. It’s also mine. Mine. Mine! “It’s your creation,” she says of my dress, speaking as if she knows me.

I have a rock star kind of moment, like I’ve made it to the top, and a thrill slides up and down my spine. “Do you love it?” she asks, rounding the desk. “I love it!”

I do love it, but just as unbidden as the misplaced joy I’d felt entering the lobby, I find myself assessing her in an unwelcome way, finding her twenty-something, model-gorgeous, and exactly the kind of woman that would be a target for the cartel for very bad things. All elation is gone and it’s all I can do to maintain my smile. “It’s stunning on you,” I say. “You are beautiful and I am honored to have you wear it.”

She beams. “Okay now,” she says. “You are officially so very nice.” She glances at Kyle as he steps to my side, a tiny hint of admiration in her face, which bugs me. “Hi,” she greets, flirtiness in her tone. “Can I help you?”

“No help needed,” he says.

Her brows furrow, her admiration starting to turn to discomfort. “But…who are you, please?”

“The bodyguard,” he says flatly, and the rush of awkwardness in the room is instant, as is his success at turning her admiration into intimidation, which has me feeling guilty for my hint of jealousy. She is young and he is older, good looking, and overwhelmingly…him. Just him. That’s all I have to say or think on the topic.

“I’ll let Barbara know that Myla and her bodyguard are present,” she says, heading back to the desk, and seeming like she wants a barrier from the awkwardness, she nervously adds, “And my name is Heather if you need anything.” She flicks Kyle a look that gets her nothing but a hard stare.

Trying to ease her discomfort, like I have others before her, like I want to do for so many more, I say, “He’s Kyle, and a robot actually. He looks very real, right? That’s why he’s so big. It takes a lot of space to make it look like he has muscles when he doesn’t.”

She gives him a curious look and Lord help me, she inspects him like I might not be joking. The man has rattled the poor girl and he and I will be chatting about that, very forcefully. “He’s very authentic, right?” I ask, holding out my hands as if presenting my specimen and Kyle either doesn’t care or play along, just standing there. Finally, she gets it, and bursts out laughing. I laugh, too, while Kyle says, “I need to do a walkthrough of the building with Myla in a secure location.”

“Our building is secure, I assure you,” comes a female voice and now I have a genuine thrill with no guilt because I am staring at The Barbara Van Gleek, who is sixty, silver haired, and somehow elegantly sexy. She’s also been the assistant to some of the biggest names in fashion.

I want to gush. I want to hug her. I want to act like a school girl, but I know, that won’t get me respect, which I need at all levels to keep surviving.

“Forgive me, ma’am,” Kyle replies, “but my responsibility is to Myla’s safety and I will be making that assessment myself.”

Barbara purses her pink-painted lips. “Men. They’re all the same. They have to be in charge. Well, you’re not in charge young man, but if it makes you feel better, do whatever you need to do. I’ll take Myla into my office. No. To her office.” Her gaze lands on me. “Why am I talking to him and not to our superstar? Come.” She holds out her arms. “I must hug the future of fashion.”

Oh god. I’m having a mixed moment of fan girl and dream girl, both of whom want this to be real, not a money laundering operation for a drug cartel. And I let myself. Just for these few beats, when time stands still as I’m wrapped in Barbara’s arms. I mean, she is hugging me, after all, and she smells like cinnamon of all things, and I really like cinnamon.

She pulls back and looks at me. “You look uncannily like your mother.”

“I do?” I don’t give her time to answer because I’ve never met anyone who knows my mother. “You knew my mother?”

“I did. She was a beauty with quite the eye for design work. Which brings me to the surprise I have for you.” She takes my hand, Barbara Van Gleek takes my freaking hand, and leads me down a curvy artsy stone encased path, but there is a sudden, odd fizzle of unease in me, and I don’t know why. Where is it coming from? Why am I so on edge that I can feel Kyle behind me, close, connected, and yes, looking out for me? Once again, he makes me feel safe. No. He always makes me feel safe, and despite knowing I am responsible for my own safety, I welcome the sense of not being quite as alone with him around. I revel in the cold steel between my breasts, and it hits me then that even having it, should equal trust in Kyle, a detail so obvious, that I don’t know why it hasn’t registered.

Our travels, and my fizzle of unease, continue to the right and down another hallway, this one’s walls layered with fashion magazine covers as if they are embedded in the stone, I love it, but that fizzle is becoming a bubble. I try to tame it by reminding myself that thanks to Kyle I could shoot any enemy that attacked me if I had to do it, and it’s that thought that brings us to a halt at a corner office.