Jane Harvey-Berrick Guarding the Billionaire by Harvey-Berrick Jane

Author:Harvey-Berrick, Jane
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Harvey Berrick Publishing
Published: 2019-06-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Ch-Ch-Changes

THE DAY DRAGS. There’s nothing urgent at Anderson HQ, so I head to the CCTV room and doze with my eyes open, my head propped up on my hand. The rest of the security team leaves me alone. Most are ex-services and they know the look of someone who’s been awake all night. They just assume it’s to do with Anderson, certainly not the delectable Rachel. And they aren’t going to know.

By 6PM, most of the employees have left, just a few ass-kissers who want to impress the boss with their work ethic. They’d have to work 24/7 to put in longer hours than him. And there are a few females hovering in reception, hoping that he’ll notice them. Dream on, ladies, it ain’t gonna happen. Not now that he’s got his next fuck on order. Although I’m still curious about the female that I saw him with at the Farm, and how those husband and wife pairings work out. Although not curious enough to ask. Or watch.

The thought sours my mood. Rachel will be away this weekend. She hasn’t even gone yet and I miss her. He hasn’t mentioned that we’re going to the Farm, so maybe he’ll be working at Wolf Point and I’ll be able to take a day to see Lilly. Just depends on whether Anderson is planning on leaving the building.

But first, I’ve got to get through an evening at the Andersons’, or more specifically, spend the evening avoiding Abigail Anderson’s attentions. I ponder the idea of camouflage, but figure the boss might ask questions.

He’s quiet on the drive over to Scarsdale. Fine by me, although a little conversation would help me stay awake.

The Andersons’ mansion is beautiful and serene, and again I wonder how someone so fucked up could have come out of a place like this. Maybe there are some memories that no number of happy years can entirely erase. I should know: one tour of Iraq, two in Afghan.

Mrs. Anderson is waiting, her face lighting up when I open the boss’s door and he steps out of the car.

“Devon, darling!” she says, kissing him on the cheek. “Happy birthday!”

“Mother,” he smiles briefly.

His birthday? He didn’t say anything. But then again, why would he? Although some people I’ve worked for expect the help to give them a fucking parade every time something happens in their insular little worlds. Not Anderson.

“Trainer, you can park the car around the side. There’ll be a meal for you in the kitchen … or you may prefer to sleep in the car?”

His face is impassive but I can tell he’s amused, referring, no doubt, to the pile of shit who escorted him on his run this morning. Bastard.

“Sir.”

I hurry back to the car just as Abigail Anderson gallops into view. I catch sight of her disappointed face in the car’s side mirrors. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing more of her later.

Security at the Anderson mansion obviously isn’t a priority. There are multiple entry points, not least from the golf course that borders their land.

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