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“Knightsbridge.”
“Oh, of course, he has a flat in Knightsbridge,” she muttered sarcastically to herself, rolling her eyes. “When did your life get so fucking surreal, Iris?”
He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Eat your toast. Chance will be here shortly. I’ll bring out the bags and do last checks.”
It was all happening so fast; it was hard to believe they were leaving. She truly loved it here—the place had really grown on her—and she hoped they’d be able to return sometime… preferably in summer.
She ate while he collected their bags and went down into the basement garage to fiddle around with a few things. He returned to pilfer a slice of her toast.
“There’s a ton of food in the fridge,” he said, between bites. “So I’ll leave the electricity on. I assume Miles’s family will know what to do with it.”
He wandered off again, cheekily stealing her cup of coffee, on his way out of the kitchen.
Before too long, she’d finished her breakfast and cleaned the dishes, which gave her some time to wander from room to room, ostensibly to see if she’d left anything behind, but really to say goodbye.
When she came to the suite of rooms that had been her prison for those first few terrible nights she paused and sucked in a deep breath before stepping inside. She’d expected… something. But all she felt was mild surprise that she’d built it up to be this dreadful place, when in reality it was really just a pleasant little living area for a teen, or perhaps a housekeeper.
Iris laughed quietly underneath her breath and exited the room without a backward glance. The events that had led to that horrible night had taken place a lifetime ago. And the two people caught up in the middle of all that drama had changed because of each other, for each other, and they were both the better for of it.
She walked to the front of the house where Trystan stood waiting, Luna on a leash beside him. He held out his hand to her and she took it without hesitation.
“Ready?” he asked, and she smiled at him and nodded.
“As I’ll ever be,” she said, inhaling deeply, trying to keep her nervousness and doubts at bay. It was hard to do so as she watched the black Mercedes-Benz 4X4 with heavily tinted windows slowly make its way up the drive toward them, the first sign of The Real World they’d seen in weeks.
Trystan took a step toward the vehicle as it slid to a stop in front of them.
Both front-passenger and driver-side doors opened, and two fair-haired men stepped out.
Iris hung back, her one hand on Luna’s head, as Trystan released her other.
“Sam, good to see you,” he greeted warmly, shaking hands with the shorter of the two.
He had to be Sam Brand. Iris ran a speculative gaze over the man with the close-cropped medium-blond hair and piercing ice-blue eyes. He was about five-ten or -eleven—a couple of inches shorter than Trystan—with a lean, muscular build. He was pretty good-looking, in a rugged way.
The other guy was recognizable from the press he’d been getting since his first appearance as Trystan’s bodyguard. Chance Griffin was huge, at least six -foot-four or -five with sandy hair, also kept military short like his boss’s. He was a silent behemoth, his face unsmiling, his eyes concealed by dark glasses. She sensed him sizing her up before his head moved slightly as he checked out the rest of their surroundings. Very much On Duty… and a pit formed in Iris’s stomach as she understood that this was Trystan’s reality.
Hers too, now.
It was the first indication of how much her life was about to change and she was already having misgivings. That didn’t bode too well for the longevity of this relationship.
She shook herself, and shifted her gaze toward Trystan and immediately felt calmer, more centered, as she was reminded of why she was doing this. What was at stake. He was laughing at something Sam had said when his gaze drifted toward her, and his expression softened.
“Sam, I’d like you to meet Iris,” he said, voice warm and smile affectionate. He reached for her hand again and tugged her forward.
The other man ran an assessing, unsmiling glance over her person.
“So you’re the intruder, huh?”
Iris shot Trystan an unimpressed glare.
“Is that what he called me? He knew full well who I was.”
The man merely raised a brow, before spoiling the whole stern thing he had going by grinning.
“I gather all’s well that ends well?” he said and Trystan threw an arm around her shoulders and tugged her to his side. She put up a token resistance but melted against him after a few seconds.
