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He snorted and shook his head.
It would be so much easier if I could just slip Brazzi some of my poison and get rid of him entirely.
“No killing. Not yet.” Javier stopped at my side and put a laptop on the counter between us.
How did he know what I was thinking? I narrowed my eyes.
“Your smile was too sinister to be anything other than plotting a death.”
Huh. He knew me better than I thought. “Fine. Not yet.”
“These are pictures of the restaurant. I want you to know where all the exits are, just in case.”
My feet begged me to find a chair, but I was the boss of my body. This discomfort was nothing compared to what I’d gone through.
Instead, I slipped into assassin mode and memorized all entrances and the rough layout of the restaurant.
Cruz and Derek came back out and leaned against the counter next to me.
“I’m starving. If I’m going to be doing more of the bodyguard shifts, I need to carry around some protein bars or something.”
“I told you to just eat with me.” I nudged him.
Cruz leaned forward to see me. “That’s not how it works, nena. Bodyguards are supposed to be on alert at all times. They don’t sit with their clients and eat.”
I rolled my eyes. That was stupid, but there was no point in arguing when I wouldn’t change their mind.
“Did you get what you needed?” Javier asked.
“I should hope so. I don’t want to go shopping again for a long time.”
Cruz chuckled. “Sorry, Emilia. It’s going to be your favorite pastime until Dias is committed, and you have things to do with him.”
I groaned. “Why?”
“Because until we can secure more event invitations for you, it’s the only way to make you visible. We need the rumor mills to work in our favor and get people talking about you.”
I could kill a man in dozens of ways with my bare hands, yet my job was to walk around stores?
“Can I at least wear normal shoes?”
“Normal?” Javier asked.
“Not heels. They’re fine for galas and balls, but––”
“That’s up to you,” Marco cut in. “It’s your role. As long as you can make it believable, that’s what matters.”
In that case, it was flip-flops and sundresses from here on out.
Javier went around the kitchen island and pulled out a stack of plates from an upper cabinet. Cruz got utensils, and Derek filled glasses.
Within a minute, everything was ready, and I had a plate of chicken, rice, and broccoli in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
“Come sit,” Derek gestured for me to follow him to the couch, where they all spread out.
The apartment had room for a dining table, but they chose to have a monster of a sectional instead. Fine by me. I’d rather be comfortable than proper.
The second the food hit my tongue, I closed my eyes and moaned, not caring in the least how sensual it sounded.
