The Boys of Blueberries

3

It was when she was getting ready for one of the most important events in her career as both a model and an editor when she asked Tristan to sleep with her.

She couldn't reach around her back to button up her own dress. Irritated, she let her arms fall, numb, and fished for her phone and speed-dialed her secretary.

"Ms. Kyle?" Tristan's voice said, picking up at the first ring, loud and clear, and she knew he was running up the stairs. It was the first time she called him inside. "What's wrong?"

"Get over here, please. Thanks," she muttered and hung up, tossing the phone on the bed.

He didn't bother with politeness and hesitations from stepping inside her home. He has access to her security code, anyway. "Ms. Kyle?" he yelled from the kitchen, frantic steps checking every room.

"Here." She looked at him through the mirror once he barged in, and his hand was inside his suit jacket, fingers gripping the gun on his hip. His frosty eyes were wide and panicked. "Button me up, please."

He took a few seconds to assess the situation, breathing heavily, only then realizing that she was in practically her lingerie without the dress buttoned up Still, he maintained his composure and took his hand off his weapon.

Sabina raised an eyebrow. "Relax, no one's brave enough to enter my apartment with a bodyguard like you. At least I know you do your job well—and it's a plus you're my secretary, too."

His lips pursed, and he finally stepped forward to stand behind her. Sabina gathered all her hair in one shoulder and stared at him in the mirror.

His fingers were gentle as they worked on the first button, at the base of her spine.

Sabina's red-coated lips spread into a smile. "What do you think?"

"Of what?" he asked cooly, quickly working on the next button. He tried to keep from touching her skin as much as possible—it made her grin, his effort.

"Of the dress."

"I think everyone who's worn the same thing will be put to shame."

It was an answer she wanted to hear. Her smile faded. "Give me an honest answer, Tristan."

"I was being honest, Ms. Kyle."

"No, you were being my employee." She rolled her eyes and batted him away once he stepped back, grabbing the jewelry from her desk. "Put this on me, too." She handed him a Swarovski necklace.

Tristan took it carefully, put it on her, and didn't say anything else.

"Thank you. Let's go down the elevator together, but I want a sip of wine first. This event is making me nervous," she admitted with reluctance, turning away to head to the kitchen. Tristan followed her, her purse on his arm.

"Nervous," he mused, standing in the living room.

Sabina raised an eyebrow at his comment and took out a glass and a bottle. "You don't think I can be nervous?"

He paused. "You almost never are."

"Mm." Sabina took one sip. "You want one?"

A ghost of a smile passed through his face. "I can't be tipsy if I'm protecting you."

"Protecting." The model scoffed, rounding the kitchen to lean against her ridiculously-expensive countertop. "I hate that word."

"You hate what it implies even more."

Sabina liked this. She liked that he was speaking his mind, she liked that he knew things about her. She took another sip, and then the front door made an abruptly loud noise, bursting wide open, and before she knew it, she was behind Tristan, her wine glass shattered all over the floor. "Don't move, put your hands up!" Tristan yelled, pointing his gun at the door.