Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Sam Brand is my security advisor,” Trystan volunteered unexpectedly after he was about halfway through his meal. Up until that point he’d only complimented her on the food, before they’d lapsed into silence.
It was odd that he’d choose this moment to refer to the name he’d mentioned three days ago.
“Oh? I thought that Australian guy, Chance, was.” The big, blond Australian bodyguard—Chance Griffin—had caused a minor sensation in the gossip magazines when he’d first started shadowing Trystan about a year ago. People had been sighing over his good looks, rhapsodizing over his brawny body, and the sight of him with Trystan had soon become common. There was even rampant speculation that the two men were hot for each other. Which had resulted in a lot of erotic fan fiction centered around Trystan and his bodyguard.
“Chance works for Sam. One of the reasons I chose not to have Chance here was because Sam lives in town, and he was reasonably confident that I’d be perfectly safe here. Chance is staying with Sam while I’m here, on call in case I choose to venture out into the world. But I wanted—needed—to be alone.
“In fact, Sam and Miles Hollingsworth are good friends. Miles is merely a passing acquaintance of mine. We’d met at a few charity functions and he seems like a decent guy, but we’re not what I’d call intimates.
“Sam knew I needed someplace private to stay and—since Miles and his wife are in London for the next six months—Sam asked Miles if I could stay here while he and his wife are out of the country. So, no… Miles Hollingsworth is not my financial advisor.” The last was offered with a faint smile but Iris was baffled by this sudden flood of previously withheld information, and was unable to return the gesture.
“I see,” she said, not really seeing at all. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
“You asked.” His answer was both simple and immensely complicated at the same time.
Why had he suddenly decided to start answering her questions? Or more specifically why that one?
And would he answer another question if she merely asked.
Only one way to find out.
“Speaking of Australians,” she began. “Are you aware that your fancy American accent has been slipping steadily by the day?”
He surprised her by looking not one whit offended by that question, and then shocked her even further by laughing.
“I tried so fucking hard to get rid of my native accent when I was starting out because Quinny believed that it would limit my opportunities. It became almost second nature to disguise it.
“By the time I was big enough for it to no longer matter, it had become commonplace to speak in that godawful hybrid accent. But when I’m back in Oz, or spending time with my family, or away from the US, my natural accent starts to reassert itself. In fact, I’m hoping to shed the American one completely. It was the worst advice Quinny ever gave me. And that’s saying a lot, since he is partially responsible for one of my biggest flops. Although, to be fair, we’ve been together from the start, and we were young and inexperienced with a lot to learn back then.”
“Your biggest flop? You mean Eagle-Man?” Iris asked, with a sympathetic wince, even though she was trying hard not to laugh at the memory of that embarrassment of a movie. It had been one of his earlier films and it would have been a death knell to the career of any less-talented and—let’s be honest here—less hot actor.
He glared at her.
“Do you mind? I like to pretend that atrocity does not exist.”
“I don’t blame you. But it’s really not as bad as Night of the Killer Wētās. Although, I have to admit, I really loved that one.”
“That was an indie. Come on, I was doing a favor for a friend. I was young and stupid, how the hell was I supposed to know those wētās would come back to bite me in the arse?” Iris loved how his accent had reverted back to Aussie so much that he no longer said ass. “No matter, I stand by my decision to make that one. It has a certain charm. And it has a devout, hardcore fandom. But fucking Eagle-Man? Jesus, it had a decent budget and had no business turning out as dire as it did.”
Iris laughed—the sound joyful and contagious—and after a while he let go of his feigned indignation to join her.
It was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon, and after lunch he brought out a deck of cards and they played a few games of gin rummy.
It was heading into early evening, and getting dark, when he finally put the cards away. They cleaned the kitchen together and he fed Luna.
“I have a couple of phone calls to make,” he told her once the kitchen was restored to neatness.