Coffee. The only delectable thing I’m looking forward to this morning.
Its rich aroma pulls me from the depths of my room and into the kitchen where the beautiful Sandra is whipping up breakfast. She’s been a godsend. The only person I can count on aside from myself in this godforsaken world of falsity.
And though I would trust Sandra with most things, there are still parts of my life I’d like to keep to myself.
Secrets are demons not to be shared. They lurk in the shadows, waiting to detonate and obliterate everyone and everything in their wake.
I’ve made that mistake before and paid dearly for it. Never again.
“Morning, Mrs. Rutherford. Would you like your egg white omelette now?” Sandra smiles at me while holding out a glorious cup of caffeine. Her rosy cheeks and beautiful silver hair make her the perfect Mrs. Claus doppelgänger, adding to her already likable personality.
“No thank you, Sandra. And please, just call me Charlotte.”
Sandra’s previously joyous face puckers as she looks at our surroundings before shaking her head repeatedly. “Oh, no. Mr. Rutherford has given me specific instructions. I’m never to address you so casually.”
She spins around and busies herself with the already impeccably clean kitchen.
Spinning on my heels, I blow out a breath as I make my way back to my room. Figures the warden of my life would prevent anyone from getting close to me. Even my dear Sandra is off limits.
I’m about to close the door behind me when my husband’s secretary buzzes through the intercom. “Mrs. Rutherford? Your new detail is here. The senator wanted you to meet with them immediately upon their arrival.”
I press my forehead against the door and groan.
“What was that, Mrs. Rutherford?”
“Nothing. I’ll be there in a minute. Thank you, Michaela.”
I silence any further questioning by pushing the white button on the panel by the door. For a few brief moments, I’d forgotten about last night’s ordeal. Ridiculous because my ribs still bear the imprint of Preston’s boots.
Placing my mug on the nightstand, I stare toward my walk-in closet, contemplating throwing on a pair of sweats instead of the conservative black dress I know Preston would approve of.
Snickering, I pull on the matching grey sweater and pant set. I fancy it up by scrunching up the sleeves, throwing on my five inch Manolo Blahnik, and popping on a bright pink gloss to my lips, still bruised from the night before.
Content with my fashion choices for the day, I exit the room with my head held high. Let the bastard make a scene in front of people. Joke will be on him.
A new detail means that whoever is assigned to me will watch me like a hawk for the first couple of months until they let their guard down. This doesn’t bode well for Preston and his alter-ego.
As I turn the corner, I see Sandra stealing glances into the parlor. Interesting. She’s not usually one to butt her head into business other than hers.
The corner of my mouth lifts into a smirk, my right eyebrow cocking involuntarily. “What’s so entertaining?” I whisper as I reach Sandra’s side.
She jolts up, no doubt startled. “Mm—Mrs. Rutherford. Your new detail is here.” Her face is pale, no longer holding any semblance of the rosiness I saw just moments ago.
My brows come together and my smile sours. Turning toward the sitting area, I see what’s caused Sandra’s concern.
Holy shit.
The men in the other room are drop dead gorgeous. Like something straight out of a GQ magazine. Wearing tailored suits that fit their body perfectly, there is no doubt that nothing but taught and tantalizing muscle lies underneath.
My eyes travel back and forth between the two men before me, and I’m about to push my mouth shut when I hear someone clearing their throat to my right.
Lord, help me. How did I miss him?!
If I thought the other two were GQ models, this one was sent straight from heaven. A deity walking this earth.
My eyes narrow as I study his face further. He looks familiar. But surely… No. No. This cannot be happening.
Like a freight train slamming into an unsuspecting vehicle, the memories assault me one by one.
His thick black hair, chiseled jaw, and piercing hazel eyes as rich as the tambour of his voice are enough to haunt my dreams for eternity.
Closing my eyes, I take a centering breath before entering the room. If I’m to survive the next six months I need to present the mother of all facades.
“Good morning, gentlemen. I’m Charlotte Rutherford.” Stealing a quick glance toward tall, dark and handsome, I check to see if he’s recognized me. I intentionally omitted my maiden name, and it’s been decades since he’s last seen me, so luck is on my side… at least I hope it is.
“Good morning, ma’am.” The deity approaches me, not a hint of recognition in his beautiful eyes. “Name is Aiden Moretti. I’ll be the lead assigned to you, however, Titus here will cover for me when I’m not on duty.” He points toward one of the other men in the room who must be Titus.
Shifting my gaze back toward Aiden, I have to ask, “Has my husband met with you and your team, personally?”
“No, ma’am. We met with Michaela.” After a beat, Aiden arches a brow. “Is there a problem?”
“Am I to believe Michaela gave you an itinerary and breakdown of my daily schedules, routines, and social engagements?” Completely ignoring his question, I power on. There’s no way in hell I’m going to give him even an inkling of trouble in paradise. The last thing I need is for him to report back that I’m in some sort of trouble.
“Yes, ma’am.” His tone is flat, lacking any emotion. But his eyes—those eyes—they tell me the truth. He hasn’t missed the fact that I haven’t answered his question and his eyes are trained on my bruised lip.
“Great, so you’re aware of my meeting with the mayor’s wife this afternoon. I have a couple of stops before I meet her for lunch. I’d like to leave in about thirty minutes.”
“That won’t be a problem, Mrs. Rutherford.” His hazel eyes narrow, but no further comment follows.
Giving him a nod, I turn on my heels and head back to my room, needing to pick up my bag and the donations I’d compiled the last couple of weeks.
I’m about to reach my door when I hear heavy steps behind me. Whirling around, I almost run straight into a brick of chest. Slowly lifting my gaze upward, I’m met with the richest hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. Like deep pools of cashmere, I want to dive right in and envelop myself in their warmth.
“Ma’am, is everything okay?” His deep voice cuts into my thoughts and breaks me out of my trance.
“Yes, I’m not sure why you’re following me. There’s no need to follow me inside of the home.” My brows furrow and my forehead crinkles. “This level of surveillance is unnecessary here.”
“Mr. Rutherford begs to differ.” That’s it. That’s all he gives me.
Well, shit. This is next-level smothering. Not only does Preston dictate who I can and cannot talk to, but he’s now having me followed in my own home? If I felt like a prisoner before, now I’m definitely at Rikers.
Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath. Abort. Abort. Abort. Huge mistake. Now all I’ll be able to think of is the smell of Aiden’s delicious scent of bergamot and cedarwood.
The scent takes me back to my childhood, where I was always the third wheel. Mother would never let Clarabelle go on dates alone, and it was little ol’ me that got to witness her making out with the man of my dreams. Over and over again.
A hand to my shoulder startles me into opening my eyes. Once again, I’m looking into those beautiful pools of hazel, but now they’re riddled with concern.
“You okay?” Two words. Oh, if he only knew.
“Yes.” I sigh before smiling and shaking my head. “Well then, if that’s what Mr. Rutherford wants, then that is what Mr. Rutherford gets.” With a demure huff, I turn and enter my room to retrieve my bag and the tube of gloss I’d left on the vanity.
Looking in the mirror one last time, I see that Aiden is standing inside my room. Our eyes meet and I swear it’s as if he’s looking into my soul. The man can see me. Me and the skeletons I’ve shoved in my closet.
I clear my throat, needing to break the tension that’s suddenly filled the air. “Right, well. We should get going.”
I’m about to step past Aiden when his strong callused hand reaches out and grabs my arm, sending a current of electricity shooting straight through to my core. “Charlotte, is there anything I should know about?”
My eyes begin to tingle, the warning I need to snap me out of this weakened state. I will not cry in front of this man, nor will I let on about what dirty secrets I hold.
“Nothing you haven’t been briefed on. Now if you’ll please let me go, we have places to be, people to see, and things to do. If you’d like to help, you can carry those boxes out to the car. It will be our first stop.”
Donning a sincere smile, I pray he lets it go. The last thing I need is for Preston to catch a whiff of my history with Aiden.
We’d have much bigger problems than his getting fired, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
