Before the Sun

Chapter Four- Rich Daddy's Girl

Nikolai's voice is different to any I've ever heard before. It's heavily accented, thick and deep. His Adams apple bobs up and down his throat as he utters the two words. He's still looking at me, with those frosted eyes, harsh and intimidating. My hand slips into his outreached one, only briefly as he shakes it just once. As fast as his eyes landed on me, they leave. Instead they move to Kenny, eyes flicking up and down, as if sizing him up. He doesn't shake Kenny's hand.

"Sofia Bianchi."

I offer my name, a forced smile prominent on my lips. Nikolai's eyes flicker back to mine for a short moment, watching as I take a seat on the opposite side as to where he was sat.

"I know who you are."

He responds, his tone flat. Once again, his voice prickles the back of my neck. I don't know if you can describe an accent as masculine, nor harsh, but it has an edge to it, sharp and cutting. Kenny clears his throat, pulling out a chair for himself as he plants himself beside me. He interlocks his hands above the white cloth, grinning a close lipped smile at the young waitress who has come to stand at the head of our table. She beams down at the three of us, hair neatly slicked into a tight bun and a notebook and pen in her hold, ready to take our order. She asks us what we want, Kenny requests a steak before diverting his gaze to myself.

"I'm okay, I didn't have lunch that long ago."

I murmur, nodding to the waitress as she reciprocates the action. Kenny sends me a glare, not amused and certainly not happy with my choices. The girl turns towards Nikolai. When his stare meets her own, her cheeks flush, just slightly. So slight, I think I may be the only one who notices it.

"Water, thank you."

He says, leaning further into his chair. His knee swipes mine below the table, ever so gently, before he pulls it back, moving his legs to the side and out of my way.

"What are we here to talk about, exactly?"

My words are exasperated, already bored of the situation I have put myself in. Nikolai glares, as if my voice alone has pissed him off.

"To get to know who I'm going to be protecting."

He utters, flat. My lips fall into a line, my eyebrows drop and my teeth bite the inside of my cheek.

"Well, what do you want to know- my favourite colour?"

I question him, leaning closer to the table as my elbows rest above the cloth. The bracelets on my wrist clash together, making a tune as my arm moves, catching the lights above. Nikolai's head tilts to the side, his eyes still trained on my own. The action reveals a lengthy, pearlescent scar that drags from the behind of his ear, down his neck and into his shirt collar. There's a slight red tint around it, almost painful looking.

"Gold."

He speaks up. My brows furrow and my eyes squint.

"Sorry?"

I ask, lost within his statement.

"You're favourite colour- it's gold."

He says the words with such confidence, such certainty. It's not a question, nor a guess, it's a statement.

"Blue."

I fire back, a small smile tugging at my lips. I hope the look in my eyes doesn't reveal my favourite colour is indeed gold. I hope he doesn't know he's right and I pray to God he believes he is wrong, his ego seems too large.

"You know everything there is to know about me already, I'm sure."

I quip, knowing he will have already been through countless meetings, briefings and training sessions just to get to this point, just to be considered. My dad doesn't take the choice of bodyguard for his only daughter lightly. Nikolai smiles, for the first time since I entered the restaurant. It's cocky and the furthest thing from genuine.