One
DANE
“If you think the eighty-year-old lady over there is going to shiv me, then you’re taking your job too seriously.”
Leo gave me that fuck you look, but didn’t let up.
Great.
He was at it again.
I stood beside my best friend and bodyguard as he sized up the guests of the party, all well-dressed and interested more in the canapés than killing. I could see his less-than-trusting eyes scan each face, assessing every woman's purse and every man's form to make a best guess as to who was a threat and who wasn't.
From where I stood, it was unnecessary. We were among some of the wealthiest and most powerful families in Manhattan, all friends and family of a young, soon-to-be married couple. I'd worked late and let him drive me directly here from my office close to Columbia University, and for this? For him to get suspicious of a harmless looking crowd?
Of course, he saw past the elegant decor, the bespoke suits and expensive designer gowns. He looked beyond the lighthearted laughter and informal chatter and was focused on one goal: ensuring a safe buffer between me and any potential danger.
Which was his job, but tonight, he took it to another level.
“This is over the top, even for you,” I said, following him through the crowd. “I get that we haven’t been here before, but you realize this is an engagement party, right? We’re fine.”
He slowed down long enough to glance back at me. “How about you let me earn all that money you pay me so I can be sure of that?”
“I pay you to be cautious, not paranoid,” I countered, grabbing a wrapped asparagus off a passing tray.
His gaze roved over the guests again. “There are times when paranoia is just good sense.”
“And this is not one of those times,” I argued, wiping my fingers on a cocktail napkin.
Leo ignored me, undoing the button of his dark gray suit jacket to slip his hand into his pocket as he looked around the large ballroom, squinting as he often did when sizing up someone he wasn’t sure of. Except tonight, he did that with almost everyone here. Close to a hundred guests ate, drank and socialized under massive chandeliers that lit the space. When a male server wearing all black passed by with an empty silver tray, Leo turned to study him. His jaw ticked.
“This way, Dane,” he said stiffly.
“Come on,” I pressed. “I’m sure the hosts are smart enough to cover their bases with sufficient security.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. That they’ve covered their bases…for themselves first, and guests second. Like I said outside, your client may be legit, and maybe his daughter is too, but for all you know, they have no clue they’re about to marry into organized crime. Or maybe they do.”
“How about you say that a little louder for some of these guests to hear?”