She opened her window. “Wait,” she called after him. “Why are you coming back?”
He seemed confused by the question. “I’m picking up my bag, and then I’m moving in with you for the duration.”
A cold resolve took root at his words. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“I’m your fiancé. We need to get to know each other. We need to get comfortable being around each other. The only way to do that is to spend time together. What if someone in your family drops by? They’re gonna think it’s pretty damn weird that I live here. We already gave the impression I have to be with you twenty-four seven. I can’t do that from here.” He pointed to the building behind him.
Rachel didn’t bother arguing with him. It wasn’t happening, and that was that. Instead, she closed the window, put the car in gear, and drove away. In her rearview mirror, she saw him pull his phone out of his pocket. A few seconds later, her iPhone buzzed from its spot attached to the dash.
While stopped at a red light, she read his message: You get a reprieve until Monday morning. I’ll pick you up at seven.
Rachel narrowed her eyes as she zoomed toward Kensington and her home. He’d learn. It might be the hard way, but he’d definitely learn that Rachel did not take instruction well.
Come Monday morning, Rachel wasn’t waiting at her apartment for a pickup as she was supposed to. Harvard wasn’t even sure why he’d expected to find her there. Stupidity maybe.
Teeth clenched, he drove the forty minutes to TayFor Pharmaceuticals’ complex alone. It was the last time he’d do it. Because one way or another, this little power struggle over his position at Rachel’s side would be sorted that morning.
The admin section of the TayFor complex was housed in a gray stone Victorian mansion that had been renovated into offices when Rachel’s grandfather first started the company. Since her father took over, the land around the original building had been developed as TayFor’s research complex and contained several newer buildings. All of which sat in manicured grounds. To Harvard’s eye, the setup was typically English. Upper-class English. Everything about it said genteel, sophisticated, understated, and very wealthy. It was a complex designed to put even the most nervous of business partners at ease.
He let himself in through the main doors of the TayFor office and headed straight for the smiling woman behind the reception desk. “I’m Michael Carter, Rachel Ford-Talbot’s fiancé and bodyguard.”
“Of course, Mr. Carter.” The woman, who appeared to be in her fifties and very efficient, pointed to an iPad propped on the desk. “I’m Sandra Caird. If you’d follow the instructions on the screen, I’ll fetch your ID. Ms. Ford-Talbot informed me you would be in around now.”
Harvard was sure she had, probably smiling like a shark while she did it. “Has Rachel been here long?” Instead of waiting at her apartment for him like they’d agreed she would during their call the day before.
“About an hour. Do you have your passport with you?”
He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed it over. Sandra was very careful to match the image inside to his face and then scan the document for their records. Meanwhile, Harvard logged in to the iPad and pressed his fingers to the scanner beneath it so that it would record his prints. As security setups went, it wasn’t half bad.
“Here you go,” Sandra said. “Your passport and your ID. Please wear it at all times. You’ll need it to access the areas you’ve been cleared for.”
He took the lanyard with the card—the photo he’d submitted the week before already on it—and hung it around his neck. “Thanks. Can you point me toward Rachel’s office?”
“Certainly.” She gestured to the security door at the end of the spacious reception area, where a guard sat beside a scanner. “If you pass the guard and go through the door, you’ll find a lift on your left. Take it to the third floor. Ms. Ford-Talbot’s office is to your right when you exit.”
“Thanks.” He flashed her a smile before heading to the security guard.
A familiar face grinned at him. “I see you’ve already lost the body you’re supposed to be guarding.” Ryan Granger kept his voice low as he spoke. The ex-soldier, who was only slightly younger than Harvard, had been with Benson Security since the first office opened in Scotland. He was a good man to have at your back, although his sense of humor and constant eating took a bit of getting used to.
“Don’t worry,” Harvard muttered. “I know exactly where to find it again.”
“If you’ll just walk through the scanner,” Ryan said, using a louder tone that would carry to the receptionist, “that would be great. Please empty any metal objects from your pockets before you do so.”
Harvard took out his keys, phone, and wallet and placed them on the table for the bag scanner to check before walking through the metal detector. He knew his teammate had turned it off so the gun in his shoulder holster wouldn’t set off an alarm.
Ryan had already been in place with security for two weeks. Only the head of his department knew who he was and why he was there. To everyone else, he was merely a new employee.
“Do me a favor.” Harvard put his belongings back in his pockets. “Disable Rachel’s car. She’s going home with me at the end of the day.”
Ryan struggled to hide his amusement. “Unless she calls a taxi and sneaks out when you’re looking the other way.”
“Just sort the car. I’ll deal with Rachel.”
“Aye aye, boss.” Ryan was clearly unconvinced.
“Did you do your rounds?” Harvard asked quietly.
“I scanned Rachel’s office for surveillance devices as soon as I got in this morning. It was clear. I didn’t get a chance to do the other offices on the exec floor because my shift partner was too damn nosey.”
“At least Rachel’s office is clear; that’s something. Anything else I need to know?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until the team meeting. You’re bringing pizza, right?”
Harvard stared at him.
“Guess I’ll bring the pizza,” Ryan said at last.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Harvard said. “I have a runaway fiancée to deal with first.”
“Now you know why no one else on the team volunteered to partner with the Queen of Darkness.” Ryan sounded amused. “We totally warned you, dude.”
Since he wasn’t supposed to know the security guard, Harvard didn’t think it appropriate to flip him off. Instead, he headed for the elevator.
And made it five steps past the door before he was waylaid by yet another of Rachel’s relatives.
“We haven’t met,” the man said. “I’m Charles Talbot, financial director and Rachel’s uncle.” He didn’t hold out his hand.
“People call me Harvard.” His trained eyes took in every detail of the man before him.
In his early sixties, with steel gray hair and a bit of a paunch under his tailored pinstripe suit, he looked like the stereotypical English gent. All ruddy complexion and permanent air of disapproval. After reading the file on the man, Harvard had pitied Rupert and Samantha for having him as a father. And their research had revealed that his wife wasn’t much better. Clarissa was the definition of simpering English flower—when she wasn’t stoned or drunk, that is.