“Hi.” My voice is weak.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were at cookie night?”
I blow out a breath and make a split-second decision. I’m going to tell him the truth about everything. Right now. I’ll deal with the fallout, but he deserves to have the whole picture. I can’t wait one more minute, and I refuse to spin one more falsity to his face. Oh gosh, he’s going to be mad. And hurt. I hate myself for italready. But I shove the thought aside. If I tell him the truth, he’ll understand. He has to. He’s Anton. He’s the most understanding man I know.
Right?
Right.
“I, uh…didn’t go to cookie night.”
“Why not?” Anton looks bewildered. “Did you know I was going to be here?”
I glance between Anton and Duke. “I need to talk to you.” I offer Duke an apologetic look. “Alone, if that’s okay. But I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.”
Anton shakes his head. “It’s okay. Right, Duke?”
“I’m going to head back to my hotel. You two have a good rest of your evening.” Duke stares me down before turning and leaving me alone with Anton.
All at once, my legs can’t support my body weight, so I drop back into my seat at the table.
Anton sits across from me, his shoulders fighting against the seams of his sport coat.
“What’s going on, Rose? Did you come here to talk to me?” He glances at my empty wine glass, likely realizing that I’ve been seated at the table for a while. “Or were you here with Duke? Did you have an interview lined up that you didn’t want to tell me about?”
“No. It’s not like that at all. I mean, I wouldn’t go behind your back about the article.”
“Then what?”
I close my eyes for a second, gathering my strength and fortitude. This is Anton. He’ll appreciate me being upfront and honest with him.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” I admit.
“You’re kind of freaking me out, not gonna lie.”
“Okay. I’m just going to tell you this.”
He leans back. “Please do.”
“I’m not actually writing an article on you. It’s a cover story.”
His eyebrows hitch up. “I’m going to be on the cover?”
I wince. “No. Sorry. Bad word choice.” I try again. “It’s a cover story for what I’ve actually been hired to do.”
He stares at me blankly, and I plug ahead.
“Which is to stay close to you as a personal protection agent.”
“A personal protection what now?”
Here we go. For better or worse. Being honest starts now.
“I’m a security agent, Anton. Kind of like a mix between a bodyguard and a spy.”
32
So Much for My Happy Ending…Again
