As much as I wanted to say no, because Jazmina has “trouble” written across her forehead, I never turn away from duty. Kaled is like a brother to me, and I would never deny him help. I know exactly what he wants: for me to watch her the way he would. The big problem is . . .I don’t feel like a brother to her.
In the end, I accepted, but I made one condition: if she’s under my care, I will choose the bodyguards who will escort her. They report only to me.
I check my watch. Two minutes until the time we agreed on. I texted her saying we’d have lunch, and she replied with a simple “okay.”
I was certain she’d be late, so I’m surprised when the private room door opens and she walks in.
I blink a few times to make sure I’m seeing correctly.
She’s wearing a knee-length red skirt, a long-sleeved white silk blouse, and her hair, which I know is long, is tied up high.
Elegant and composed. The image of a businesswoman, not a twenty-one-year-old girl, which is what she is.
The only thing that doesn’t quite fit the picture is the pair of sky-high stilettos that make her legs stand out. And withoutmeaning to, I do a slow tour from the tips of her toes up to her hips.
That curve is so pronounced it leaves my mouth dry.
Fuck. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
When I meet her eyes, I know I’ve been caught staring, but her innocent expression tells me she has no idea what I was thinking.
Thank God. If Jazmina could read my mind, the last thing she’d want is to sit down for lunch with me.
I stand to greet her and, out of habit, extend my hand.
She hesitates, and then I remember the things I read after finding out she’d be my responsibility: it’s not customary in her culture to touch a woman in public, not even with a handshake, unless she initiates it.
After a moment, she seems to decide and accepts the gesture, but the second our skin meets, it’s like an electric shock.
I hold her hand only as long as necessary because the feel of her skin on mine is far too intense.
“Jazmina,” I say.
“Hi, kidnapper . . .oops, I mean, Rodrick.”
I roll my eyes. “You almost fooled me with this discreet-young-lady costume.”
A lie. She fooled me completely.
I was just having a private conversation with God, praying that her behavior on Vicenzzo’s boat had been an exception, but after that little joke, I know the months—God forbid years—that I spend watching her will be the longest of my life.
“Really?” she says, smiling now, no longer wearing the focused expression she did when she came in.
She was acting. Brat.
“Let’s not drag this out,” I say, forcing myself to look away from her unbelievably green eyes and her silk-soft skin. “I knowyou enrolled in a university program. I don’t need to tell you that living on campus is out of the question.”
“I didn’t want to live there anyway. I’ve always had my own suite and would find it strange to share a room. But just so I understand, why is it ‘out of the question?’”
Shit. How do I explain this? Ah, screw it. If Kaled wanted a diplomat to watch his sister, he should’ve chosen Vicenzzo.
“Sharing dorms might not be ideal for someone like you, princess. Naked men roaming the halls, drugs, alcohol, and a pretty good chance of walking in on a sorority girl having sex.”
A deep blush spreads over her cheeks and neck, and I know I hit hard, but if we’re going to see each other often, she’d better learn quickly that despite the title of duke, I’m nowhere near noble in my manners.
I lean back and cross my arms, studying her. Even though she’s clearly embarrassed, she looks right back at me without backing down.
“As I said, I have my own apartment. I intend to integrate at the university because I’m a normal girl”—she emphasizes the last words—“but I won’t be sleeping there.”