“You make it sound easy.”
“It will be for you, because I’ll set the tone, and sweetheart, that doesn’t mean I watch Juan or anyone else treat you like shit. I won’t. You’re mine to protect, and I will protect you.” I glance at the zipper on the front of her dress and then back at her. “Are you wearing the gun?”
“Yes. That’s why I picked this dress.”
“Good choice. If you need to use it, you use it and let me deal with ensuring there are no consequences.”
“I have no idea how you would do that.”
“I’ve been undercover inside operations just as nasty as this one. I know how to manipulate events and come out on top. You’re in good hands and not just mine. I have a team that works for me. They’ve already cleared the facility where you’re working and they’ll have our backs, but that’s absolutely between you and I.”
“Of course. Who are they?”
“People I trust. People who you can trust. People I don’t want on Alvarez’s radar. That’s all you need to know.”
“And you trust me to not tell him?”
“Quid pro quo on trust, too, Myla. I simply went first. You now have one of my secrets.”
“I’m not sure you really went first. I mean, right now, if you wanted to, you could tell Juan anything about me, and he’d believe you. I’m trusting you not to do that.”
“You hope I won’t do that. That isn’t trust.” My cellphone rings, and I reach for it, glancing at the screen. “That’s Juan,” I say. “Grab your things and let’s get out of here.” I answer the call. “Good morning, sunshine,” I say. “Good to know you get up before noon.”
“Shouldn’t you be leaving by now?” he asks, while Myla stands in front of me, waiting for the bombshell she always seems to believe is coming.
“I wasn’t aware I needed to control her schedule,” I reply. “Is there an agenda here? Because if there is, it would be nice if I got a fucking copy of it.”
“She has a meeting in thirty minutes.”
“Isn’t she the boss?” I ask, while Myla walks out of the room, as if she can’t take the exchange anymore.
“When the fuck are you leaving?” he asks.
“Is she a prisoner I’m supposed to be guarding, or am I protecting her while she leads her normal life? Because if she’s a prisoner, the concept of testing her loyalty is void and what the hell am I doing here?”
“When the fuck are you leaving?”
“When she picks a pair of shoes that she doesn’t want to change.” He hangs up.
I shake my head and shove my phone in my pocket, and make my way to the hallway where Myla meets me with her purse and briefcase on her shoulder. “If I shoot him, you can clean it up?”
“Easily, though I’d be disappointed I didn’t get to do it. Let me get that.” I reach for her briefcase, taking it from her and glancing at the label. “A Louis Vuitton,” I say. “An expensive piece of Marc Jacob inspiration.”
“Yes,” she says, responding to the question I’ve left in the air. “Michael bought it for me. And yes. It’s a five-thousand dollar bag, but I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t even tell him I liked the brand. It was his pitch for me to be his Marc Jacobs.”
“I didn’t ask any of that.”
“I saw it in your face.”
“No one sees anything in my face I don’t want them to see,” I tell her.
“Then you wanted me to see it and you wanted my answer.”
“I let it show,” I confirm. “Just in case you wanted to tell me. Clearly you did.”
“Now you know.” She glances at her watch, also a Louis Vuitton. “I need to get to my meetings. I need to get this over with.”
I arch a brow. “That doesn’t sound like someone excited about living a dream.”
“Please stop analyzing everything I say and do. I’m nervous.” She steps around me and heads toward the door, and I’m at the door when she is, pressing my hand to the surface at the same moment hers goes to the knob.
“Myla,” I breath out, that sweet scent of hers teasing my nostrils.
“What?” she whispers, without turning.
“Turn around.”
“No. I-”
“Turn around.”
Her shoulders flex as she inhales, and then rotates, leaning on the door, our bodies close, and it’s all I can do to keep my hand on the wood by her head, instead of on her. “Remember our plan.”
“You act like a cold-hearted bastard and I act like…I don’t notice.”
“Like I’m just another one of the assholes around you.”
“But you aren’t just another one of the assholes, now are you, Kyle?”
“No. I am not.”
“When are you going to tell me who you really are?”
“When you tell me who you really are.”