Kane straightened instantly, masking the curse under his breath as he slid on his calm, controlled, and all-business undercover face.
“I’d like to introduce my new boss, Mr. Farrar,” Monica said, her voice as smooth as silk.
Kane stopped beside her, towering just enough to make his presence known, then extended a firm hand. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he lied easily, the words rolling off his tongue like second nature. “Noah Reid.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Reid.” Neil’s grip was careful, testing. His eyes flicked up, assessing. “Well, this is a surprise I didn’t expect.”
Yeah, I bet you didn’t, Kane thought, returning the stare unflinching. He sure as hell hadn’t.
“I’m sure Mr. Griffen won’t have any objections,” Neil said after a beat, forcing a smile, “but of course, we’ll need to do a full, detailed background check on you, Mr. Reid. Because of the nature of our business, of course.”
There it was—the desperate attempt to regain control. Kane almost smiled.
“Of course,” he said flatly.
“If you can send me a list of what you need from Mr. Reid,” Monica interjected smoothly before Kane could add anything else, “he’ll make sure you get it. But honestly, today isn’t the day for any of that.”
Neil gave a tight nod. “Of course. How about we meet next week, then? Monday, perhaps?”
“Monday’s fine,” Monica replied, glancing over her shoulder before meeting his gaze again. “Just email me the details.”
She gave him a polite, perfunctory smile, then turned on her heel and walked away, that sway in her step deliberate and calm as if she’d just won a round in a game neither he or this asshole realized they were playing.
Kane’s brow lifted as he watched her go, then turned back to Neil, who was also watching her walk away. Kane extended his hand again.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Farrar,” he said, his tone even, his grip firm when Neil reluctantly took his hand. “We’ll see you Monday.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and followed Monica’s trail, his frown deepening the closer he got to the hallway. What the hell did she think she was doing? This wasn’t a fucking game. He already had a set undercover façade that didn’t include him being a bodyguard. “Fuck!” he cursed under his breath.
She disappeared into the restroom, and he stopped just outside, leaning against the wall. His posture was casual, but every nerve in his body was coiled tight.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neil Farrar turn to walk out of the kitchen, phone to his ear, his face hard and unreadable as he disappeared into the crowd.
Kane muttered a low curse and pulled out his own phone, firing off a quick text to Charger.
Griffen nowhere to be seen. The new boss of the new business venture showed up. A Neil Farrar. Have Jinx run him. R & SLogistics is no longer. Curated Vintage Exchange is the new possible front.
He hesitated a second, then added:
Monica just volunteered me as her personal bodyguard. Farrar wants a thorough background check. Using the name Noah Reid. Have until Monday. This has to be tight as fuck, brother.
His thumb hovered before he sent the last line:
This woman is either brilliant… or she’s gonna get us both killed.
Looking up from his phone, his gaze scanned, making sure Neil had left. His phone buzzed, gaining his attention. Chargers return text.
Working on it ASAP. Will send all the information tomorrow.
He shoved the phone back in his pocket, pushing off the wall. Either way, he couldn’t deny it; Monica had just made things a hell of a lot more interesting.
CHAPTER 7
Monica pushed through the bathroom door, the noise from the house fading behind her like a curtain dropping on chaos.
The echo of her heels on tile sounded too sharp, too deliberate, as if each step reminded her she’d just made a move she couldn’t undo. She reached the sink, bracing both palms on the cold porcelain, her breath shuddering out as she stared down at the drain.
For a long moment, she didn’t lift her head. Couldn’t. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, trying to hold herself together when her insides felt like shattered glass.