They all tense for a moment, then relax as four men dressed in black suits come into view.
There’s a brief exchange of words, and then the three Ashbourne pack members turn back toward our car. Court pulls open my door and holds out his hand to help me out. I take it even though I’m perfectly capable of getting out of the car all on my own.
“These are the men that are in charge of your safety,” Grieves says, as I come to a stop next to him. He points at each ofthem and says their names, but I’m having a hard time focusing, so they go right over my head. I’ll ask Piers to remind me later.
The security men nod at me. “Ma’am,” one of them says, all serious and straight-faced, with a nod in my direction.
I flash him an uncertain smile and try like hell to look like someone who deserved this level of protection, but I feel about as deserving as a dirty dish rag.
Forsythe’s brows wrinkle as he looks at me, like he’s trying to figure out what I need. But I’ve already told him, he just won’t give it to me.
Some of the security guys go to the back of the car, pulling out our bags while the rest of them usher us toward an elevator with a keypad on it. “The lift to our floor will only come if the correct code is entered,” Grieves explains, before typing in a series of numbers that I don’t follow. The doors in front of us open and I’m moved inside, where another keypad waits, but this one also has a fingerprint scanner.
“We’ll get you added to the system,” Thayer reassures me and I almost ask why, since I’m not likely to be going anywhere without one of them. But maybe they’re trying to pretend like I’m not going to spend the next few weeks in the very pretty cage they’ve designed for me.
We step out into a small vestibule with only one set of double doors coming off it. There are two guards posted outside the door standing stiff-backed and expressionless, as we move to yet another keypad.
I don’t manage to smother the snort of amusement at the absolute overblown security measures they have. But then, I guess this flat is owned by royalty, so it makes sense.
Grieves arches a brow at me. “We take your safety very seriously, bubbles.”
“Apparently,” I murmur as the door opens and they motion for me to go inside.
When they’d told me I’d be staying in a flat outside of the palace, I’d imagined a one room apartment, something nice, but not lavish, just big enough for me to live in and for them to visit me.
I had certainly not imagined this.
It’s huge… and beautiful. A little on the outdated ostentatious side. But still cozy enough I suppose.
“There are six bedrooms,” Forsythe says, marching efficiently through the living room and into the giant kitchen. “Pick whichever one you like. Four bathrooms. An in-home gym. The kitchen should be fully stocked. If there’s anything that’s missing, let one of us know and we’ll get it for you.”
“Or I could go out and get it myself.”
He pins me with a displeased look, before he drags his gaze quickly away, turning to pull open a cabinet door and instead revealing a fridge. “No. One of us will arrange to have it delivered for you.” The fridge door swings closed and he moves to a cabinet, making note of the contents, like he’s taking inventory. “There will be guards posted outside the door at all times. Ones hand-picked by me and Grieves.”
I frown. “The building has its own security, doesn’t it?” I mean, we’d come in through a door with a keypad. Then the elevator needed a code to access this floor. Not to mention the door to the apartment needed a third one. Not to mention that we’d come in through a door in a parking garage where no one saw us, so it’s unlikely that anyone even knows we’re here. More to the point, they don’t know I’m here. “Making them stand out there just seems a little pointless.”
“Nothing about your safety is pointless, bubbles.”
I shrug. “Okay. Whatever.” I shouldn’t be surprised that they don’t care all that much about what I want, or my thoughts on a situation.
All of them look at me for a long, assessing moment as I stand next to the island, like maybe they’re waiting for more, but I don’t give them anything else. I'm tired and hungry, and I would have appreciated stopping on the way here for a burger or something.
When none of them move or say anything else, I sigh and step into the kitchen. Forsythe retreats, moves as I do, keeping distance between us, and I can’t help buthurt. This man is supposed to be my prime alpha, the leader of my pack, and he can’t stand to be within three feet of me.
I push that hurt aside and focus on what I can control, what I can do in this situation for myself. It starts with food and ends with pajamas, blankets, pillows, and maybe some mindless television as I doze in and out of consciousness.
“We should probably go,” Forsythe murmurs as I pull open the refrigerator and peer inside. There are a bunch of premade meals stacked neatly on the shelves. Instructions for cooking or reheating taped to the top of them. There also appears to be other items that I could use to make something from scratch, but I don’t have the energy for that.
I grab out the first pre-made meal, and kick the door of the fridge closed as Court says archly, “weshould leave?”
“We need to go to the palace, to let the queen know-”
“No,” Grieves growls out. “No, we don’t need to do a bloody fucking thing, but stay here and take care of our mate.”
“You should go,” I cut in, as I examine the oven, looking for how to turn it on, only for Piers to nudge me out of the way.
“Let me, little bird.”