boss // hs

8. heat

[[ "Nothing splendid was ever created in cold blood. Heat is required to forge anything. Every great accomplishment is the story of a flaming heart." - Arnold H. Glasow ]]

* Georgia's POV *

"How are you feeling?"

I looked across the table at Mister Styles and smiled faintly. "I'm okay. But I should probably get home. My father has the alarm set to ding when I get home and if it hasn't dinged by ten he calls Viktor."

"What's Viktor's story anyway? Is he Ukrainian?"

"Russian," I corrected lightly. "He was a retired Russian hitman when my father found him. He's been taking care of me since I was only a few months old."

"And you like him?"

"Yes."

"Because I have hundreds of bodyguards working under me if you ever wanted a new-"

"I don't need a new one," I laughed, shaking my head at him. "But your concern is very noted."

He nodded tensely and gave Elaine another fortune cookie, which she promptly slammed against the high chair and threw on the floor.

"Let's go then."

I slid my hands under Elaine's little arms and laid her gently on my chest, Mister Styles' eyes on us the whole time. He may have called me out more than once on my open flirting with him, but I could just as easily point out his incessant staring. It was flattering, really.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay at one of my guest houses? We have plenty of room and-"

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Mister Styles swallowed. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Would Grace Katherine be alright with it?"

He jammed his keys into the ignition of his gorgeous little black Audi and it purred to life obediently.

I'll take that as a no, I thought to myself.

Mister Styles was silent the rest of the way back to my house, only opening his mouth to tell me goodnight.

As soon as my feet hit the expensive imported stones of my driveway, the engine groaned softly and then they were gone. Talk about a hair trigger...

Just like always, the alarm dinged as I entered the house and Viktor emerged from the shadows.

"Your father called."

"Yes, I know I'm late but-"

"He is a married man, miss Georgia," Viktor interrupted suddenly. "You should not be seen with him alone anymore."

"This is the 21st century, Viktor," I shook my head. "I'm home now so your job is done. I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight."

He disappeared back into the shadows and I ran upstairs to change into my pajamas.

Once comfortably in silk panties and a T-shirt, I padded to my sun room upstairs and sat before my easel. It was dark outside but the windows were so big and clear that the skyline and stars provided more than enough light to sketch the gunman's face.

I remembered every detail of his face, so it took only an hour to have my final product.