Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

R egie closed her laptop and slid it into her bag just as Bolt knocked on her office door and stepped inside. "Ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded. Once again, how much space he filled struck her. Even dressed in a tailored business suit, there his physical strength shown through. His large his body ate up space, but also, his personality demanded to be noticed. He would never be described as chatty or gregarious. Instead, his quiet demeanor acted like an invisible force, putting pressure on her mind that couldn't be ignored.

"You okay?" he asked, walking over to her with a concerned look on his face.

She realized she'd been staring at him while her mind spun fanciful words about his physical and mental prowess. A flush of heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. " Yeah, fine." She had to clear her throat. "Just thinking about…work."

He held up a wrinkled paper bag she hadn't noticed until now. "I brought food." Looking inside, he shook his head. "Although I'm not sure if it's still edible. The bag—and the containers—got a little scrunched in the saddlebags on my bike."

She laughed. "You rode your bike dressed in a suit?" He'd, of course, still look hot no matter what he wore while riding his motorcycle. She sighed inwardly and told her neglected libido to stand down.

"Bad planning on my part. I rode my Harley Softail instead of taking one of the company SUVs." He looked sheepish. "Sometimes I need to feel the wind and the bite of the chilled Bay Area evening air."

Regie understood all too well the need for the illusion of freedom. Maybe she'd ask him to take her on the bike one day. "I'm sure the food will be fine."

He gestured for her to walk ahead of him out of the office and then did that thing he'd done in the restaurant, where he gently guided her by placing his hand on the small of her back. It felt both sweet and a little possessive at the same time.

And dangerous because it made all of her girl parts stand up and take notice.

As they rode the elevator down, Bolt stood unusually close and leaned over, his nose hovering over the top of her head.

"Did you just smell me?" Regie couldn't help but ask.

He wouldn't meet her gaze. "Sorry, I thought maybe you'd put on a new perfume."

"I don't use perfume."

"My bad." He cleared his throat.

What the heck? Why the sniff test? They walked across the lobby. Regina nodded to the security guards as they passed their desk. Bolt opened the door for her, and a gust of chilled air greeted them as they stepped out. He guided her again with a confident hand on her back.

She turned to ask him about why he'd smelled her, but before the words left her lips, a flurry of flashes exploded in her eyes. Blinking furiously, she tried to clear the white stars obscuring her vision.

"What the fuck?" Bolt exclaimed, his grip on Regie tightening.

She heard running steps behind her, and the dancing lights in her eyes finally cleared enough to where she could see the two security guards rushing out of the building. Bolt stood in front of her, shielding her with his big body. She leaned over to the side to peek around him.

Two photographers were corralled by his forearm. He noticed her sneaking a look. "Regie, get behind me now." His voice sounded close to a growl .

She did as he demanded and couldn't see what happened on the other side of his broad torso, but from the commotion, it sounded as if the two guards were steering the photographers away from the building.

Bolt swiveled around and put his hand around her shoulders, his large frame engulfing her as he propelled her in the opposite direction, which happened to be toward her apartment. He barked orders into his cell phone as they walked the few blocks to her home. Once there, he quickly got her inside the building.

"What happened?" Regina asked. "Why were they?—"

"Not now," Bolt ground out, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He nodded to the concierge on duty and all but shoved Regie toward the elevator banks. No gentle hand on the small of her back this time.

The elevator dinged its arrival. He corralled them both inside and pushed the button for Regie's floor.

"But I—" she tried, but he interrupted again.

"What part of staying safe did you not understand when we discussed security measures?" Bolt's hazel eyes sparked with anger. "If I push you behind me, you stay behind me. Understood?"

She nodded. "I didn't understand what happened."

He dragged a hand down his face, taking a deep breath. When he looked at her again, his eyes were still intense, but the anger had subsided. "It's instinct to want to see what's going on. But those photographers could have had weapons instead of cameras."

The severity of what could have happened at the Lofn offices all of a sudden hit her. "You could have been stabbed," she said. "Or shot."

He clenched his jaw and looked at the ceiling for a few seconds before addressing her. "No, Regina. You could have been stabbed or shot."

"Oh." She couldn't think to say anything else. She'd somehow forgotten about the whole bodyguard thing. And even though she knew—well, now knew—that the job entailed him stepping between her and the perceived threat, it had touched something deep inside her. When had someone last taken care of her? Her grandfather cared about her, of course he did, but he protected who she represented for the company and profits, never just her.

Regie struggled to control her emotions. For once, she felt grateful for the long elevator ride to her apartment. She lived on the top residential floor. Big open suites available for the residents should they want to throw a party for a hundred or so of their closest friends occupied the level above her home.

There were indoor and outdoor entertainment spaces, both offering the same splendid view as Regie's apartment. A few levels below her, the whole floor offered a state-of-the-art gym, an Olympic-size pool, and changing rooms with saunas and steam rooms.

Impressive and modern, the building still felt a little soulless. Although, Regie liked to think that she had made her space cozy. It, too, looked stylish and modern, but she'd worked hard to make it look lived in—like a home rather than a showpiece.

As he stepped out of the elevator, Regie changed the topic. "How are the employee screenings going?"

Bolt shot her a look and that muscle in his jaw ticking again. "We've staged the interviews as if they are part of the IPO process, and since I'm the CEO's fiancé, I can't ask any questions." He took her key card from her and unlocked her apartment. Motioning for her to stay in the hall, he stepped inside and then returned a few minutes later. He gestured for her to enter and continued their conversation. "I have to watch all the interviews via live or recorded video. It's frustrating, a little boring, and it makes me tired." Bolt placed the wrinkled takeout bags on her kitchen counter and handed back the entry card to her.

"Oh, that reminds me." She dug around in her bag and then handed him a different key card. "I requested this for you. I know you already have arranged to have access to the building, and since we're supposedly living together, it doesn't make sense that you have to knock on the door each time you come home...here." She rubbed a palm against her thigh.

"Thanks." He pocketed the card. "The keys Heimdall Shield used to install the cameras were short term only. If you hadn't requested a permanent key, I would have arranged for one. But I didn't want to push it since you obviously value privacy."

"I appreciate that."

Awkward silence grew as they stood in her kitchen, just looking at each other. Suddenly, Bolt sprang into action, unpacking the food containers. Their contents hadn't leaked, despite their slightly misshapen forms. "I meant to ask you why you decided to name your company Lofn Wellness."

"How familiar are you with Norse mythology?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "I work for a company named after the god who keeps vigilance from where the rainbow bridge meets the sky. He watches for invaders of Asgard and the onset of Ragnar?k."

"Okay," her lips twitched. "I guess what I should ask is how familiar you are with Norse goddesses."

"I know the main goddesses, but not much about the minor ones. Lofn is the goddess of comfort and love, right? Is that how you think of your company, loving and offering comfort?"

Her lips stretched into a full smile. "That's part of it. Lofn also arranges unions between people who have been forbidden to marry by society's rules or authorities. She is the goddess of forbidden love. "

He tilted his head, squinting at her. "Wellness is forbidden?"

"No." She shook her head. "Nobody has anything against people being fit. But for individuals who identify as women, society makes it really hard for us to accept ourselves as enough. There are so many rules about what size we should be, what hairstyle we should wear, and even about how we should behave. One of the forbidden loves in our culture is a woman loving herself fully without feeling the need to change herself according to the norms and constraints society puts on her."

"But aren't you contradicting yourself if you're selling fitness with a message that people don't have to change? Isn't working out about changing yourself?"

Of course, he would go there. Most men did. "I hear this argument a lot, but not from many women." A half-smile played on Regie's lips.

"I'd hate to be repeating what dense men ask all the time. Please explain it to me, though." His words were playful, but his face looked serious. He looked as if he wanted to truly understand.

Regie waved her hand in the air. "The idea is that if a person accepts themselves as enough—or is working toward accepting themselves fully—they would choose fitness and wellness to feel better for themselves. Not to change for someone else. Or, on a deeper level, because they are already living an amazing and fulfilling life, they want the energy and longevity that wellness gives them to enjoy that life more—and maybe for longer."

"Okay, but isn't it a little hypocritical of you to preach about accepting yourself when you look like you do?"

Regie tilted her head. "I don't follow. What about my looks?" She knew men found her attractive. She worked hard to be physically fit and knew she had pleasing features. But she'd never be considered classically beautiful. Her grandfather had explained that to her several times.

Bolt gestured toward her, vaguely waving his hands in the surrounding air. "You must know that you are considered pretty, beautiful."

She gazed at him for a moment. "You think I'm beautiful?" Warmth expanded in her chest.

"Most people would." He cleared his throat.

Regie smiled. "Unless those people preferred someone taller, or shorter, or skinnier, or curvier, or with darker hair, or a different nose, or a?—"

"Okay, okay. I get your point." He held up his hands. "Time for a completely different topic. There's something we need to do before we have a public appearance."

"What's that?"

"We need to practice touching each other." He cleared his throat again .

Regie stood shock-still but blinked a few times. "Could you repeat that?"

"If people are going to believe that we are actually engaged, we need to touch each other in public. People in love show public displays of affection. We need to practice PDAs."

She swallowed. "Really? We need to practice?" Her voice squeaked on the last word.

"Yes. In order to appear like a real couple, we need to look like we are comfortable with physical intimacy." He took a step toward her and reached up to touch her face.

Regie quickly leaned back, out of reach. "We're starting now?"

"Yes, and the way you just reacted is why we need to practice. You didn't exactly flinch, but almost. I obviously started with too much, too fast."

Sure, sure. She flinched because he did too much, too fast. Not because her hormones started yelling as soon as he got close, and she could feel all that delicious warmth that had enveloped her earlier. "Yeah, let's go slower." Crap, that wouldn't help with the hormones, but now she'd said it and couldn't take it back.

"First of all, you need to know that I would never hurt you. And if you are ever uncomfortable with anything I do, tell me. I will stop immediately."

The man had just stepped between her and a threat, so she knew he wouldn't hurt her. "Okay. I think I instinctively knew that already, but thank you for saying so."

He swallowed. "Let's start with something easier." Bolt wiped a hand on his pants before taking her slender fingers in his.

Sparks zapped his skin where it touched hers.

He dropped her hand.

"Static again?"Somehow, knowing he also noticed the weird sizzle between them comforted her, but it still felt weird. And too much like the strange tendrils of power she knew hid inside her.

He nodded. "Must be. How about we eat instead and practice later?"

Regie nodded vigorously. "Yes, that's a great idea." She stepped into the kitchen and started opening the food containers. "Mexican is one of my favorites."

Bolt's phone rang, and he answered with an apologetic look her way. His face hardened as he listened to the person on the other end. "Where?" The caller said a few words. "I'll be there," Bolt said before hanging up. He faced Regie. "I have to go. There's been a break on another case, and I'm needed to help out with…logistics." The worried look on his face told her something serious had happened.

"Is everyone okay?" Regie asked .

Bolt hesitated. "We don't know yet." He walked toward the door. "Nora is on her way over to watch over you tonight."

Regie wanted to say she didn't need anyone to keep her company, but he'd already left the apartment. The door clicked shut behind him, and she felt strangely alone without him.