“Your father thought that would be best.”
I glanced at my father, trying to figure out why it would be best for my bodyguard to stay in the pool house when there was a perfectly good room right next to mine. “It wouldn’t be appropriate to have a single man staying in the west wing, Malcolm,” my father said, his tone implying I should’ve realized that. But it would only be inappropriate if anyone knew I was gay, and they didn’t, so how could that look bad? He sighed that long-suffering sigh that he used when he thought I was being obtuse. “Your sister’s room is right across the hall. Think about how that would look. If you feel that threatened, you could always stay out in the pool house with Roman. As a matter of fact, that would probably be best.”
“Oh, right. Rebecca. I see,” I said, and I did. I saw a lot of things. First off, how things looked mattered more to him than my safety. No surprise there. But most importantly, he didn’t know. If he had, he wouldn’t suggest I stay out in the pool house. I kept waiting for the moment that it would click, and my father would figure out what those notes meant. But so far, so good. Of course, the idea that he might have a gay son was probably such a foreign concept to him that it would never occur to him. “There’s no reason for me to stay in the pool house. Besides, I’m sure Roman would appreciate a little privacy. I should be perfectly safe here in the house.”
“I still need to familiarize myself with the house’s security,” Roman said.
“Sure,” Fredrick said. “I’ll be happy to show you the setup.”
“I’m sure the setup is top-notch, but I’m not going to lie, I would feel better if Malcolm—”
“Trey,” I corrected. “As in Malcolm Jacob Coben the third, so Trey. That’s what everyone but my family calls me. It’s to avoid confusion.”
“Really, I didn’t notice any of the reporters refer to you as Trey,” Roman said.
“My father frowns on it.” I shrugged.
“Anyway, I would feel better if Trey”—he paused and nodded at me—“stayed in the pool house with me. I assume there’s more than one bedroom, but if not, the couch is fine for me.”
“Is that really necessary? It seems extreme since we aren’t even sure if the letters are directed at me.”
“Roman, if that’s what you think is best, then that’s what we’ll do,” my father said, ignoring me and ending any discussion. Because it wasn’t up to me. Nothing was. “It is up to you two if you want to come to the house to take all your meals. If not, the pool house has a small kitchen.”
“Thank you, sir. That sounds perfect. It’ll allow me to be close to Trey, but it shouldn’t upset your schedules too much since he’ll still be close to home.”
“Yes, that will work out well. Now is not the time for us to get distracted.” My father nodded and turned to me, “Malcolm, we have numerous appearances lined up over the next couple weeks, and I need you to be at your best.”
“Don’t worry, sir. I will be.” I glanced over at Roman to find him watching us. I saw the wheels turning, like we were a puzzle and he was shifting the pieces around trying to figure out where they fit. Well, good luck with that Roman Barnes. There are pieces you’re missing, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.
Roman
“I need to go up to my room and pack up a bag. I’ll send Alejandra to take you to the pool house,” he said, standing up to leave.
“That’s okay, Fredrick’s going to show me the security set up so he can take me there when we’re done. Just don’t leave the property without me.”
“Whatever.” He grumbled as he walked off. Obviously, Trey Coben was less than thrilled about the situation, and not only because he had to share the pool house with me. I suspected he knew more about the letters than he was saying. I doubted he knew who was writing them, but I thought he had some idea what the letters referred to. However, if he had committed some transgression as his father called it, he wasn’t about to confess that with the Senator present.
“Are you ready to show me around?” I asked Fredrick.
“Senator, you don’t need me for anything, do you?” he asked.
“No, I’m going to be working right here all afternoon.
“Okay, I’ll show Roman around, and then I’ll check back in on you.”
We left the office, and he directed me out the closest door, stopping on the patio that looked out over the river. “The Senator has top-notch security in his DC apartment, but the security here at the house is lacking. That’s the primary reason I insisted Trey get his own close-protection. If we were in the city, I could’ve kept him safe, but here, damn Roman, I’m not sure. There are entry points there”—he pointed first to the left on the beach area, then the right side—“and there. The fence is scalable. and while the house itself would be hard to get into when it was all locked up, half the time this door is wide open, even though I’ve told them they need to keep things shut up.”
“Shit, should I take him somewhere else?” I asked.
“No, the Senator wants him available for rallies and interviews. He’s the campaign's media darling, and the Senator won’t let these letters prevent him from taking advantage of that this close to the election.”
“Even if it means Trey’s at risk?”
He gave me a meaningful look and then said, “Even if.”
“Okay, good to know. Now, why don’t you show me what is here.”
It didn’t take long for him to walk me around and point out what security was installed. It wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing. The good news was the pool house ran on its own system. He said they did that so that they didn’t have to worry about people going in and out of the pool house setting off the house alarm. I didn’t care why. What I cared about was that I had a self-contained system protecting Trey. Fredrick and I exchanged contact information, and he left me at the pool house.
It was two stories and had two bedrooms upstairs. The downstairs walls facing the water were solid windows, but they had blinds that could be closed to prevent anyone from seeing in. It was an amazing view looking out, but the idea anyone on the river would be able to see in didn’t thrill me.
I hated setting up systems on waterfront properties. With one side defined by water, it gave a false sense of security and left the parameter easily breeched. This property was even worse because the fence stopped where the yard met the sandy riverbank. Meaning, it was possible for someone to walk right up to the house from the beach.
I stood there watching the boats on the water as they made their way towards the bay. There was a decent-sized sailboat moored up at the Cobens’ pier, and I wondered if Trey sailed. The ones that concerned me most weren’t the sailboats or the fishing charters. It was the kayaks and canoes that caught my attention. They were so easy to pull ashore and stash while doing whatever you set out to do.
The door opened, and Trey came in. He had on a backpack and was lugging a couple of duffel bags. “Does it matter which room I take?” he asked, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.