Page 86 of Bound By Fire
19
Ridge
I stare down at the shiny tiles in Robyn’s lobby, hands in my pockets. Then I look up at the elevator panel…again.
She’s taking her sweet time.
I should be happy she’s even letting me pick her up. She told me she could get to the function on her own steam. I had to remind her that I’m here as her bodyguard. That means ensuring her safety from the moment she steps out of her apartment building until she gets home again.
She insisted she could drive herself. Said it was easier. We went around in that loop until she finally caved and gave me a time, and even then, she made it clear that I was overreacting.
I’m being thorough and doing my job, and she insists on fighting me every step of the way.
I sigh beneath my breath, feeling more irritated as the seconds tick by.
Where is she?
Granted, I got here slightly early, but now she’s officially late.
Does she think I want to be here?
I would rather chew off my own arm than spend an evening in a room full of stuffy donors. Hell, I would rather chew off both arms.
The elevator panel lights up, and I almost hold my damned breath, praying it’s her. The doors open, and Robyn walks out.
Holy hell.
I damn near swallow my tongue.
For a couple of seconds, I just stand there like an idiot. Her dark hair is up in some kind of soft twist at the back of her head, with strands curled loose around her face. She has more makeup on than normal. It accentuates her cheekbones. Her brown eyes look bigger. She has red lipstick on her lush-as-fuck lips.
I keep myself rooted in place, not saying anything – still like an idiot – but I’m not done looking.
The dress is long and green. It brings out flecks of the same tone of green in her eyes that I never noticed before. My eyes drop to the silver brooch, holding a faux fur wrap over both her shoulders, covering her chest.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
“You look good in a tux.”
“Thanks, you might get a little too warm in that.” I look at the wrap, then back at her face. “It’s muggy out tonight.”
She gives a shrug with one shoulder.
“I’m fine. Should we get this over with?”
I nod once.
“By the way, you look nice.” I walk her toward the doors. The second the words are out of my mouth, I wince inside my own head. Nice doesn’t come close. Nice is what you say to a colleague’s wife at a Christmas dinner.
But nice is what fits the brief. I’m supposed to be her bodyguard tonight, going as her plus-one for cover. The line between professional and unprofessional is a thin one already.
Nice will do just fine.
I push the lobby door open and hold it for her.
My SUV is at the curb. I open the passenger door for her.
