Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
The way he says it makes it clear this isn’t really a suggestion. I straighten my spine, channeling some of Cole’s boardroom confidence. “That’s not necessary. I can take the train.”
“Mr. Asher insists on certain security protocols when you leave the building.” His expression softens slightly, and I catch a glimpse of genuine concern behind his professional facade. “You’re not confined here, Ms. Whitmore. You’re free to go wherever you’d like. We just need to ensure your safety.”
The “we” catches my attention. Just how many people are involved in “ensuring my safety”? And safety from what exactly?
I weigh my options. I could argue, insist on my independence, maybe even try to sneak out later. But something in Knox’s stance tells me that would only make things more complicated. Besides, part of me is curious about the layers of security Cole has wrapped around me.
“Fine,” I say, adjusting my purse strap. “But I’m picking the music.”
Knox’s expression doesn’t change, but I swear I see amusement in his eyes. “The elevator is this way, Ms. Whitmore.”
“If we’re doing this whole protective detail thing, you really need to stop calling me Ms. Whitmore,” I say as we step into the elevator. “It makes me feel like I’m being called to the principal’s office.”
“Protocol dictates—”
“Protocol can handle first names,” I cut in. “I’m Sloane. And you’re Knox, right? Or do you prefer Mr. Bishop?”
“Knox is fine.” He pauses, then adds with the barest hint of humor, “Though Mr. Bishop was my father, and he was considerably more intimidating.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” As we descend, I ask, “So do you drive everyone Cole keeps under surveillance, or am I special?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t usually play chauffeur.”
“Not even for all the other artists Cole keeps captive?”
“You’re the first captive,” he corrects, but there’s definitely amusement there now.
“Lucky me.” I study his impassive expression in the mirrored walls. “I can see why Cole hired you. You’ve got the whole ex-Army thing down to an art form.” The sleeve of his suit jacket shifts slightly as he checks his watch, revealing the edge of what appears to be intricate ink work wrapping around his wrist.
“Marines,” he says without elaborating, adjusting his cuff to cover the tattoo again.
“Does the mysterious and stoic thing come naturally, or did you have to practice?”
This time I definitely catch a hint of amusement. “Both. There was a whole course at security school. Proper Brooding 101.”
I wasn’t expecting him to play along, and it makes me wonder what else I don’t know about Knox. About any of this. “Let me guess. You aced it?”
The underground garage is a study in luxury vehicles, but Knox leads me to a sleek black Audi that probably has more security features than the average bank vault.
“Top of my class in looming silently.” He opens the car door for me with practiced efficiency, the movement causing his collar to shift just enough to expose what looks like the tip of another tattoo climbing up his neck. “Though I did struggle with ominous staring. Too much eyebrow.”
I laugh despite myself. It’s oddly comforting to discover that Cole’s head of security has a sense of humor, even if his massive frame and battle-hardened eyes suggest he probably knows sixteen ways to kill someone with a paper clip.
The drive through Manhattan gives me time to think. About Cole. About this whole surreal situation. About how in less than twenty-four hours my life has transformed into something unrecognizable. My mind drifts to the other night in Switzerland, the sleigh ride through snow-covered forests, the way I’d stopped him when he’d leaned in, though everything in me had wanted that kiss. The memory of my hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken beneath my palm. The struggle to put my career first when his nearness made rational thought nearly impossible.
I made the right choice, I remind myself. I can’t afford to blur the lines, not when this opportunity means everything to my future. But it’s harder than I expected—remembering the disappointment in his eyes when I pulled away, the roughness in his voice when he suggested we head back.
But that’s exactly what I shouldn’t be thinking about. This is business. Just business. Even if the memory of his proximity makes my skin tingle, even if that moment in the kitchen this morning felt charged with the same electricity as last night. I’m here to create my collection, to finally realize my vision. Not to get tangled up in whatever this pull toward Cole means.
I catch Knox watching me in the rearview mirror and wonder what he sees—the jewelry designer Cole’s invested in, or something else? The way his expression shifts makes me think he knows more than he’s letting on. About Cole. About why I really need security. About everything.