he smiled and gestured at an empty seat across from him. “Please, Dante, join me for breakfast.”
“Thanks.”
Plates heaped with eggs, bacon, and fresh fruit covered the table. Dante filled a plate as Nick poured himself a cup of coffee. The strong smell beckoned Dante, sharp and enticing, reminding him of how little sleep he’d gotten the night before. “Is Nadia up yet?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Nick said. “Actually, I’m glad we have a chance to talk without her. I have a proposition for you.”
Dante waited while Nick dumped a teaspoonful of sugar into his cup and stirred it. Nick frowned, tapping the spoon against the side of his cup. “As you saw yesterday, I have major security problems. My family is under attack, and to be honest with you, Ronnie’s the only man I have that I can fully trust to protect Nadia. But he’s just one man, and he can’t be on duty all the time.” Nick waved toward the house. “My wife isn’t really a problem. She doesn’t leave the house much anyway, but as I’m sure you can imagine, I have my hands full with Nadia.”
Dante sipped his coffee, wondering if Mrs. Branson stayed home by choice, or because she was afraid to go against her husband’s wishes.
“I’d like to offer you a temporary job as Nadia’s bodyguard. I know you have your own business, with its own expenses, but I think you’ll find my compensation more than enough to cover your downtime. I need someone with your experience to keep her safe until I can neutralize the threat against her. Are you interested?”
“I’m interested.” The wheels in Dante’s mind were spinning. This was a perfect opportunity, but he didn’t need to look too eager. “I need a little time to think about it, make arrangements.”
“Fair enough,” Nick replied, then leaned back in his chair. “There is, however, one stipulation.”
“What’s that?” Dante asked, but he already knew what the man was going to say next. Resentment settled in the pit of his stomach like a rock.
“I want you to keep your relationship with Nadia strictly business.”
There it was. Same story, different faces.
Men like Nick Branson were all the same. They expected him to die for their daughters, but he wasn’t good enough to date them. Dante remembered the fury on Sharon’s father’s face when he’d caught the teenagers kissing behind the garage. Russ Martin had fired Dante on the spot, but it had been too late. Sharon was already carrying his child.
“Please don’t take offense,” Nick said.
Dante remained silent.
“I can’t tell Nadia not to see you, because she’s so rebellious it would be like spitting in the wind. She needs someone who would be a stabilizing influence on her. Somehow I don’t think you’re it.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
The words slipped out before Dante could stop them. He should be playing along, agreeing with whatever Branson suggested, but Nadia’s stepfather had managed to tear the scab off a wound that had never quite healed.
“Don’t I?”
Nick’s sympathetic smile infuriated Dante. “Let’s see …” He flipped through the file in front of him. “You signed up for the marines when you were 18 and served a four-year stint. In the past three years, you’ve lived in Texas, Los Angeles, Chicago, Japan, and recently returned home to New York. Always looking for action, the next big adventure. I simply don’t want to see my daughter hurt the next time you blow out of town.”
Dante struggled to keep his face impassive. He took another sip of coffee before replying. “Fine.”
The fact that Nick Branson lied about his real reason didn’t make it go down any easier, but Dante knew he couldn’t blow this opportunity.
“Hey, guys. What’s going on?”
Dante looked up to see Nadia standing at the patio door.
Nadia leaned in the doorway, suddenly feeling self-conscious in her blue jeans and white T-shirt. Maybe she should’ve dressed up a little more.
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