‘Jesus, mate,’ Clive said as he shut the door to Nick’s office. ‘What’s happened to your receptionist? I mean, granted, she looks a lot more fuckable now, but she’s also morphed into literally the least welcoming person on the planet. You sure you want that front of house? Coming in here was like going through a checkpoint into North Korea. It was all “ID? Remove your jacket. Wait there. Sign this.” No please or thank you; zero banter. Left me feeling pissed off but strangely aroused at the same time. Unsettling. And since when did people have to get sniffed by a massive dog before entering your office. Is she worried I might be smuggling drugs in to make our two o’clock more interesting?’
‘I know,’ returned Bertie with real feeling. He had been sitting opposite Nick and relaying the messages he’d taken that morning (those he hadn’t lost or simply been too much of an idiot to write down). ‘She gives me the willies.’ Since Goodie’s transformation from ‘Lucinda’, Bertie had been terrified of her. Women in general slightly terrified Bertie, but Goodie’s brand of icy control combined with her sheer beauty was enough to tip him over into a new level of stuttering incompetence; something Nick wouldn’t have thought possible. ‘Chap comes into work, he’d like a cheery wave from a nice dolly-bird type, not a glare from an ultra-efficient Russian ball-breaker.’
Clive laughed. ‘Poor old Bert – not surprised she’s put the wind up you. You remember that bird who dragged you off at the school disco? Malory Towers? After you two had gone behind the bike sheds you were so green I thought you might throw up.’
Nick flicked Clive an annoyed look. He knew for a fact that Clive had promised that girl a snog if she’d scare the crap out of Bertie for him for a laugh. Bertie had been full of sixteen-year-old bluster about how he was going to ‘take a crack at some fine fillies’ before the disco. Yes, that was annoying, but ultimately harmless; there was no way he possessed the balls to even talk to one of those girls, leave alone ‘take a crack at them’. What Clive had done was cruel. Sometimes Nick forgot what a prick he could be. The problem with the old boys’ network was when you ended up with friends doing your PR for you. Nick would have felt bloody rude had he brought in any company other than Clive’s for this job. And then there was the small matter of Nick’s sister and the fact Clive was currently dating her.
‘Ah, yes, good one, old chap,’ Bertie said through a forced chuckle.
‘Give it a rest, Clive,’ Nick clipped impatiently, and Clive looked at him in surprise, making Nick feel bad that he didn’t stick up for Bertie more. ‘Thanks for all of those figures, Bertie,’ Nick said bracingly.
‘Um …’ Bertie muttered, staring at him with a blank expression.
‘You’ve really sorted a lot of the financial aspects of that deal out. I owe you one, yeah?’
‘I …’
‘Would you mind checking everything for the next meeting a sec?’
‘Uh … oh right, yes, jolly good … I’ll just be …’ Bertie jumped up from his chair, his face bright red and his movements jerky.
‘He doesn’t change does he? Jesus, mate, you’re a saint for hiring him,’ Clive said through a smirk once the door had closed after Bertie.
‘Don’t be a prick, Clive. Bertie’s actually been really useful to have around,’ Nick lied. He was finding that someone else pointing out what a useless prat Bertie was pissed him off. ‘Anyway, you ready to go?’
‘Yup, I told them to meet us at the East India Club for one o’clock.’
Nick froze. ‘Uh … listen … I … I think it’s better not to do business there, you know? I mean, what if one of their team is a woman?’
‘Since when did you object to doing business at the East India?’ Clive asked, his eyebrows practically in his hairline. ‘We’re meeting two other blokes, Nick; you know that as well as me. It’s all set up – we go there, eat a bloody steak, choke down a few bottles of Chateau de Ciffre and the deal will be done. Simple.’
Nick sighed; unfortunately things were not quite so simple for him. ‘I’ve got to take my receptionist with me.’
‘What? Why?’
Nick readjusted his tie and shifted in his seat. ‘Because she’s not really a receptionist, Clive; she’s a close protection officer.’
‘A what?’
‘A bodyguard.’
Clive burst out laughing. ‘That little slip of a thing out there is your bodyguard? You’re joking. I could take her out with my little finger.’
Nick doubted that, but wasn’t about to explain anything to Clive.
‘Well, she is, and she won’t be allowed into the club.’
‘Christ, make her wait outside.’
Nick rubbed his jaw. He could predict how that would go down.
For the last two weeks Goodie had been within twenty feet of him pretty much the entire time. That first night at his flat, Nick went to bed late after working in his office, and Goodie had still been sweeping with her bug detector. Seeing as she had gone over every inch of the space with her devices, Nick knew she would be able to find her way to the spare room. With all the adrenaline he’d found it hard to sleep and at about two o’clock he went out to the kitchen to raid the biscuit tin. On his way back to his room a pile of clothes caught his eye by the front door. He stared at them for a minute until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he realized it was in fact Goodie. She was lying on the hard wood, no mattress, fully clothed, with only a thin blanket from his sofa covering her and one of the small throw cushions under her head. Her dog, who Nick now knew was called Salem, was curled up in front of her, and her face was buried in the fur at his neck, her arm flung over his chest. Her other hand was stretched out above her, a hair’s breath from the large knife he’d seen her use in the alley.
It was such a weird sight that for a moment Nick was frozen. She looked so small huddled on the floor, and her make-up-free face relaxed in sleep was so beautiful, that for a moment he stopped breathing altogether. He had the strongest urge to haul her up off the cold surface and forcibly put her in a bed, preferably his own. Well aware of how badly that particular manoeuvre would have gone down, and noticing the dark circles under her eyes, he stopped himself, but only just. As he was about to turn away he caught movement. Salem’s head had lifted from his paws and he was staring right at Nick; he flicked a quick glance back at his mistress before baring his ferocious teeth silently across the room. Nick grinned and gave Salem a one-finger salute before reluctantly turning back to his bedroom.
The next morning he had woken up at around six as normal. He used his en suite and got changed in his room before venturing out into the rest of the flat. His eyes went straight to where Goodie and Salem had been lying in front of the door, but they were nowhere to be seen and the flat was eerily quiet. He checked all the rooms. It seemed Goodie had left. On his way out to work he slammed his door shut and strode down the corridor to take the stairs (there were three other flats on his floor, all of which he owned). Movement out the corner of his eye made him jerk in surprise, dangerously close to letting out a girly squeak. He turned to see Goodie and Salem behind him. She was in the same clothes as the day before but looked totally unruffled, her now-short blonde hair tucked behind her ears.
‘What the … what on earth do you think you’re doing?’
‘Waiting for you, and now walking down the corridor.’
‘Well, I …’ Nick was rarely lost for words and he was determined not to let this woman reduce him to silence. ‘Where did you spring from?’
Goodie looked back at Nick’s front door and then at Nick with a slight frown. ‘I am your close protection officer. I was outside your front door, waiting for you.’
She spoke slowly, as if she were dealing with a small child, which only served to irritate Nick even more, and he threw up his hands in frustration. ‘You could have bloody well said something: “Morning, Nick,” “Sleep well, Nick?” “Alright loser?” Anything rather than creeping silently after me.’ Goodie’s frown deepened.
‘We pride ourselves on being an invisible presence, sir. Most clients want to forget we’re there. I would have thought you were no different since you fired your last two teams.’
‘Nick,’ Nick growled out, his temper mounting.
‘What?’
‘Nick, my fucking name is Nick,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘And I didn’t fire those teams – I just didn’t think they were necessary.’
Her only response was to blank her expression back to neutral, press her lips together, and cross her arms over her chest. She’d already made it obvious that she thought he was a bastard for dismissing the teams – they were probably mates of hers or something. His gaze dropped to her chest as if his eyes had a mind of their own. The pink coat of yesterday had been swapped out for a dark, close-fitting hoodie. She was slim-built, athletic, but perfectly proportioned.
When he forced his eyes back to hers he noticed irritation was now clouding her features and one of her eyebrows was raised slightly in challenge.
‘What happened to your hair?’ She looked so different from the receptionist Nick had employed it was a bit freaky.
‘Hair extensions,’ she told him.
‘Why didn’t you just keep them? And how did you get them out yourself?’
‘They were an irritation I didn’t need any more. I hacked them off late last night.’
‘With what?’
‘With your kitchen scissors.’
Nick tried and failed to imagine any woman of his acquaintance hacking away happily at their hair with kitchen scissors and shrugging it off dismissively the next day. They stood facing each other for a long moment, Nick shifting from foot to foot, Goodie and Salem both staying so still it was almost unnatural.
‘Right,’ he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. ‘I’ll be going then … I guess you’ll be coming with me?’ Goodie nodded. ‘Does my car have to endure another doggy assault?’
‘I have to come with you in your vehicle for the moment, sir. The far guard will following behind but you need cover in close proximity in case you’re separated from the other vehicle. Salem can go with the far guard … if he has to.’ As if understanding her words, and obviously wanting to stick close to Goodie, Salem dropped his head and looked up at Nick with wide, dejected eyes. Nick almost smiled: when it came to putting on an act, the dog was almost as good as his mistress.
Shrugging and telling himself that it was to keep on the good side of a potentially dangerous animal rather than because he was letting Salem’s downtrodden expression get to him, he muttered: ‘Don’t worry about it. He can come with us.’ Goodie signalled for Salem to follow, and the dog’s head shot back up as he started wagging his tail. Nick spun on his heel and strode off down the corridor to the lift.
‘You don’t have to keep lurking behind me you know,’ he said with irritation as he stabbed at the lift button. He was answered by silence.
One thing he did notice on that descent in the lift with Goodie and Salem was how Salem pressed himself into Goodie’s leg when the doors closed and remained there until they opened again. Initially Nick had thought it was the dog that was terrified of enclosed spaces, but after watching Goodie for the last two weeks he realized that there was more to it than that. Goodie never gave much away, she wore her neutral expression like a mask, but the enclosed space of the lift was the one place he sensed her vulnerability.
Nick was good at spotting people’s weaknesses; nearly as good as he was at spotting innovative, potentially profitable ideas – he’d had to be, in order to turn the business he inherited from his father around and make it into the massive corporation it was now. He noticed how her jaw would flex as if she was gritting her teeth, how her eyes would stare straight ahead and her hand would grip Salem’s fur so tightly her knuckles turned white. Goodie so rarely let anything show that he was guessing the level of fear she experienced in enclosed spaces must have been intense and he wanted to know why.
In fact over the last two weeks he had realized that Goodie intrigued him to an unhealthy extent. Maybe it was to do with the fact that she was always with him but somehow managed to remain separate. She no longer slept in front of the door of his flat, having been set up next door along with a boatload of surveillance equipment. The ‘far guard’, Sam, was installed in a flat on the ground floor. But she was there every morning waiting for him when he left, and she either followed or walked in front of him (according to how she had coordinated things with Sam) wherever he went. The few times he’d tried to extract information out of her had not been successful; if she could, she would limit her answers to one word, the fewer syllables the better. He’d even taken to calling her Kevin or Kev to see if he could get a reaction, but … nothing.
Salem was a different matter; Nick was quite proud to have largely won the dog over. This was due in large part to the doggie biscuits he’d taken to carrying round in his trouser pockets and to which Salem was very partial. He’d slipped Salem one last week when Goodie was checking the street outside Clive’s office, and since then he’d found the dog to be a lot more friendly. In fact four days ago Salem had snuck into Nick’s office whilst Goodie was doing her standard interrogation routine with a couple of Nick’s clients (Clive was right – she was literally the least welcoming receptionist in the history of hospitality-based jobs). Nick had seized the opportunity to ply Salem with his beef sandwich, and over the last few days the dog had taken to spending a large part of the day lying contentedly over Nick’s feet.
This behaviour did afford Nick a glimpse behind Goodie’s cool façade. The first time she’d found Salem in his office, she’d stormed in looking sick with worry, which in itself was a first – facial expression-wise. When Nick had pointed to his feet she’d come round behind the desk and glared down at Salem with her hands on her hips. She then proceeded to admonish him in Russian, at which point Salem had given her his patent Dejected Doggie routine. Instead of the anger Nick would have expected, she’d rolled her eyes and smiled down at the dog, saying something much softer in Russian and giving him a quick rub behind the ears. Nick did not know what she’d said; all he knew was that with her guard down and real, genuine expression in voice and features she was a different person; so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. He saw the exact moment that she realized where she was, and when the blank mask fell back into place he bizarrely felt the most acute sense of loss.
Yes, it was fair to say that for Nick, Goodie was fast becoming a very strange obsession. He shook his head as if to clear it. Clive was right: if Nick wanted to conduct his meeting in a male-only environment then that was his business – Goodie could just suck it up.
‘Okay, I’ll get my shit together and we’ll go,’ Nick told Clive whilst he started shuffling the papers he needed and disconnecting his laptop.
‘No problem,’ Clive said through a self-satisfied smile. ‘I’ll just pop out and get better acquainted with GI Jane out there.’
For some reason the idea of Clive attempting his brand of charm on Goodie made Nick’s head start pounding, and once he had everything he needed he practically ran to the door. He tried to tell himself that it was just because the bastard was supposed to be dating his sister; but he knew there was more to it than that.
*****
‘Where is she?’ Nick hissed at Sam. Clive and the two contractors they were meeting had given up all pretence of small talk and were instead watching the exchange with interest.
Sam folded his huge arms across his chest and stared at Nick. Thankfully, with Nick’s height, they were very nearly eye-to-eye, but when it came to sheer menace there was no competing with this guy. ‘She’s outside the building, sir.’
Nick gritted his teeth; now was not the time to start up the whole name battle again. ‘Why isn’t she bloody well inside the building? I thought you were the far guard.’
Sam studied him for a moment. ‘This is a men’s club, sir. For obvious reasons she wouldn’t be admitted.’
Nick threw up his hands. ‘There’s an area for women, for Christ’s sake. Why can’t she just wait in there?’
‘We need eyes on you. This seemed an easy way to achieve that.’
‘Well, why isn’t Salem with her?’
‘It appears, sir, that this establishment will admit dogs but not women to some of its areas. Salem is part of your protection team, therefore he stays as close to you as possible.’
‘But what about Goodie?’ Nick almost shouted, and Sam raised a thick eyebrow.
‘What about her?’
‘Well, who’s going to look after her?’ At that comment both Sam’s eyebrows travelled up nearly into his hairline and he blinked once.
‘Let me tell you a few things about Goodie,’ Sam said in a low voice laced with impatience. ‘She’s taken care of herself her whole life, she likes it that way, and she wouldn’t step inside a place like this if her life depended on it.’
Nick frowned. He didn’t like the sound of ‘her whole life’, it made his chest hurt for some reason; and he really didn’t like the thought of Goodie out there on the streets, far away from her massive dog, watching and ready to take out any potential threat that might come into Nick’s vicinity. Yes, okay, maybe he’d already seen with his own eyes that she could indeed take care of herself, but there was still only one of her; she could be ambushed easily, she wasn’t exactly as intimidating as the big bastard in front of him, physically. Nick flicked a glance over to the three faces still watching him with avid curiosity and blew out a sigh.
‘Well … can you just check on her at least?’ He watched as Sam pressed his lips together, looking very much like he was suppressing a laugh.
‘Check on her?’ he asked in a strained voice, and Nick narrowed his eyes at him.
‘Yes, just fucking check on her. I do actually pay your salaries you know. I am your employer. Could you for once just show me some respect.’ Nick spun on his heel and stormed back to the table as he heard Sam radioing through to Goodie and her voice replying with two terse words in Russian, which Nick thought even he could make a fair attempt at translating.
‘Everything okay?’ asked Terry, the head of the large construction firm they were negotiating with to build the new plant.
‘Fine,’ Nick bit out. She wouldn’t step inside a place like this if her life depended on it. He frowned and scrubbed a hand down his face.
‘Right, let’s get the good stuff in shall we, boys?’ Clive said, slapping Nick on the back. ‘No reason we shouldn’t be able to quaff some fortifying liquids whilst we get down to business.’
Nick forced a smile. For some reason Clive’s cut-glass accent, so similar to his own, was grating on his nerves today. He looked up at the men at the table, pushing out his worry over Goodie and his irritation with Clive to focus on the meeting.
