In the garage, I meet Aaden, Uncle Charlie, Jack, and Zee, who I shoot a ‘you better behave’ look. He gives me an innocent ‘what, me?’ face, and I let out a derisive snort. Yeah, right. As if he didn’t have trouble with a capital T written all over him. Despite our constant butting heads, I begrudgingly admit I trust him implicitly with my life.
Jack stands beside Uncle Charlie with a scowl that matches his clouded aura. Charlie barks some final instructions while standing with his arms crossed in a defensive posture, clearly anticipating a fight. I don’t have the energy for the battle he’s expecting, so I stroll toward the car, my suitcase wheels whirling against the concrete floor. I sense his guilt and almost turn back. But he needs to feel the pain, too. Pausing at the open trunk of the car, I begin to lift my suitcase. I groan as my muscles protest, still sore from my earlier body-lifting excursion. Zee sidles up to me and, with little effort, drops it in the trunk. I turn to thank him, but he’s already getting in the driver’s seat; sometimes that man surprises me. I sit in the passenger seat, and Aaden does some final preparation on his laptop in the rear.
Resting my chin in my hand, I gaze out the window as the familiar buildings of the business park recede, then the lush green outskirts of Seattle fly past, giving way to excessive traffic and steel structures that dominate the skyline, darkening the streets and judging those below like looming gods. Aaden and Zee remain quiet. Drawing in the heavy, clogged air, my lungs weigh down with every breath, and a nervous fluttering in my stomach forewarns me of the danger we are willingly walking into.
Chapter Four
Natia
Tauruses are stable, possessive, and stubborn. They don’t like change, and they need to feel secure.
S tepping out of yet another black SUV, a valet takes the car keys from Zee, and a cute bellboy named Mark with dimples and curly, chestnut hair takes care of our luggage. “Good evening, Miss Waterford. The apartment is ready for you.”
Zee raises his eyebrows. “Looks like we’re expected.”
“Yeah, my grandfather will have called ahead to prepare the apartment.”
Aaden helps Mark load the suitcases on the trolley. “They know who you are?”
I nod. “My grandfather is the owner.”
Zee hands me the purse I’d left on the back seat. “Ah, owner of the apartment.”
“No,” I say, jogging up the curved steps toward the lobby, “owner of the building.”
My boots click along the opulent marble floor with elegant, gold, decorative edging. The scents of lilies and roses tickle my nose from the tall, fresh floral displays outlining the spacious oval lobby, creating a splash of color on the otherwise soft, neutral backdrop.
Warm light dances around the room from the central demanding, grandiose, antique crystal chandelier restored by my grandfather when he bought the building. I step around the sofas positioned underneath it to reach the curved oak desk at the rear of the lobby.
An elegant lady in her forties wearing a stylish ivory blouse and navy pantsuit greets us. “Welcome, Miss Waterford. It’s lovely to see you again.”
“Hi, Jannette.” I offer a polite, thin smile. I’m too tired for pleasantries.
I gesture toward the guys. “Jannette, this is Zee and Aaden. They’ll be staying at the apartment and will need full security access.”
Zee steps forward, startling Jannette. She quickly recovers and appraises him. I cock my head, trying to view him from her perspective. Zee’s broad shoulders complement his generous six-foot-plus height, and a well-defined chest stretches his black T-shirt, his muscles honed from years of fighting and training. His short, dark hair matches the five o’clock shadow that seems to sit permanently on his rugged face, giving him a slightly dangerous look, matching his personality. His spring green eyes have flecks of brown in the center. He’s appealing, but Jannette is missing one important detail—he’s a cocky jerk. There’s time for her to learn, I suppose.
Zee smirks and preens under our attention, and Jannette blushes while I roll my eyes; like he needs an ego boost. Ten minutes later, Zee and Aaden’s handprints have been scanned, giving them access to the private elevator and a set of doors to the apartment.
Upon entering the apartment, Zee strides down the hallway, I assume for security reasons rather than being nosy—but it’s probably both. Aaden stands still, taking in the large open-plan living area with enormous, curved oatmeal-colored sofas in front of a wall-length fireplace. The entire apartment is a blend of rich gold and cream tones.
Taking Aaden’s hand, I pull him to the balcony doors.
“Let me show you my favorite view in Seattle and give you a tour of the apartment.” Stepping out onto the balcony, we’re greeted with a magnificent view of Elliott Bay. I lean over the rail, watching the ferry boats and twinkling lights.
“It’s stunning… Did you stay here often?” Aaden asks.
Turning away, I warm my hands over the yellow flames licking the air from the stone fire pit in the middle of the chairs and loungers.
“Often enough to call it a home. We used it when we traveled since it’s closer to the airport.”
Aaden’s eyes gleam. “Did you travel often?”
“Yes. I’m lucky. Hong Kong, Australia, UK, France, Singapore, and more.”
“That’s incredible.”
Zee pokes his head through the door and glances around the balcony. His eyes narrow on the steam escaping from a hot tub large enough for twelve people. A slow grin spreads across his mouth.
“Fancy a dip later?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. “Keep dreaming.”
He chuckles. “Oh, I will.”
My aching muscles beg me to get in and allow the jets to massage the sore spots. Before following Zee inside, I promise the tub we have a date soon.
We grab some water from the fully stocked kitchen, and Aaden picks some restaurant menus off the refrigerator and raises his eyebrows. “Wow, how the other half live…”
I don’t explain all the ways he wouldn’t enjoy “the other half” of life. I know my childhood was privileged. My grandparents gave me an excellent education and loved me unconditionally. But my life was full of constraints, expectations, judgments, and the lack of freedom to make my own decisions. Leaving Seattle for New York to follow my dreams and study dance at a prestigious arts school, I put an entire continent between me and that life.
I wave my hand between the two main floor guest bedrooms. “And here are your accommodations, gentlemen.” I show them where the clean towels are kept and leave them to choose their bedrooms. Naturally, Zee argues about it despite them being almost identical. I shake my head. He would argue the sky is green, just for the sake of it.
Upstairs in the master suite, I fling open my suitcase and prepare to unpack when Zee appears in the doorway with his luggage. I glance at his bag then his face, raising an eyebrow in question.
“I’m taking the bedroom next to yours. It’s closer—I can protect you better.”
My fists clench at my sides. “No way. The bodyguarding is for outside of this apartment. I’m not sleeping next door to you. The bedrooms have adjoining doors.”