The Universe of Discretion: Safe

I was perched in the lobby, decked out in my fresh-off-the-rack suit, peering through the glass wall into the conference room. The job description had been clear: look sharp, but don’t stand out.

I’d done my homework the night before and recognized the woman at the head of the table. Ariadne Buchbinder, the big boss of the A’aru Group.

Her brother David ran the Elysium hotel empire, but Ariadne’s turf was high fashion. She owned big names like Linda Tate, FIUME, and the iconic brand of the late designer Veronique Archambeau, simply known as…

Vero.

I wasn’t a fashion guru, but I knew Vero’s catchphrase, “In Vero, Veritas.” It was a twist on the Latin saying, “In Vino, Veritas,” or “In wine there is truth,” a nod to how alcohol can make people spill their secrets.

I’d had my own share of loose-lipped moments under the influence of drinks. One particularly blurry night with scotch on the rocks led me to do something I swore I’d never do.

To outrun my guilt, I left the army less than a year ago and found solace in the nearest AA meeting.

Holy shit!

A man stepped out of the elevator, black high-heeled boots on his feet and a large, scarred leather bag on his arm. His nails were a shocking pink, matching his skin-tight Vero shirt.

His face was perfectly balanced, accentuated by smoky black eye makeup and dark curls. I’d never seen anyone so flamboyantly fabulous up close. This was Marcus Westfield, the Creative Director of Vero.

Susan from HR swung the door open and ushered us both into the meeting room. I found a spot in the corner and stood at attention.

“I don’t have all day. I have a show to prep for,” Marcus announced, tossing his bag onto the table.

I was taken aback by his disregard for the obviously influential people in the room.

“Sit,” Ariadne commanded coolly.

Marcus obeyed but crossed his arms like a sulky kid.

“Mr. Bergen, this isn’t the army. Please sit,” Ariadne said, her smile warm.

As soon as I took a seat, Ariadne turned her focus back to Marcus, who was engrossed in his CuffPhone.

“I’ve called this urgent meeting because someone here has been receiving threats from an unknown source.”

My gaze darted around the room, trying to figure out who she was talking about.

“Everyone has been assigned a personal security officer. Mr. Bergen, you’ll be with Marcus,” Ariadne said, gesturing toward me.

“A bodyguard?! This is ridiculous, I don’t need a babysitter!” Marcus protested, standing up abruptly.

“Sit,” Ariadne repeated.

He sat down but continued to grumble.

“We’ve given you a lot of freedom because we trust your vision. But this is not up for debate!” she stated firmly.

Marcus clenched his jaw and glared at Ariadne in silence.

“Fine,” he muttered, snatching his bag and storming out of the room.

It took a second for me to realize that I was supposed to follow him. I sprang up and hurried toward the elevator.

“Felix,” I introduced myself, extending my hand.

Marcus didn’t return the gesture. He glared at me and declared, “You’re fired!”

“You can’t fire me because you aren’t my boss,” I responded calmly. I wasn’t going to let him get to me.

“Fine, then be useful! I take my coffee black with a teaspoon of vanilla.”

“My job is to keep you safe, sir,” I said, crossing my arms in the back corner of the elevator.

“Don’t ‘sir’ me! I hate gender-specific language!”

“What should I call you then?” I asked. Was asshole gender-specific?

“You can call me Marcus or Your Majesty,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

“I’ll try to remember that,” I replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Hugo, this is Felix. Felix, Hugo,” Marcus introduced, pointing to his chauffeur.

“A pleasure,” Hugo greeted, tipping his hat to me.

He was an older guy, but seemed friendly and had a gentlemanly air about him. I leaned forward and shook his hand.

“Felix is my personal security officer,” Marcus explained, making air quotes.

“They assigned you a bodyguard?” Hugo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I know! I’m as surprised as you are, darling.”

Marcus dug through his bag and pulled out a vaporizer. He took a deep puff, exhaling through his nose.

“Isn’t that illegal in a closed vehicle?” I questioned.

“Hugo doesn’t mind, do you, kitten?” Marcus asked, crossing his legs.

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” Hugo replied, winking in the rearview mirror.

“See! Don’t try to control me on day one, Lucky.” Marcus rolled down the window despite his earlier complaint.

It took me a moment to realize why he’d called me Lucky. Felix meant “happy” in Latin. As a linguist and army translator, I knew my languages, but I was surprised that he did too.

“Are we heading straight to Narnia, or should I swing by home first?” Hugo asked, making a flawless left turn.

“I don’t have time to change, sweetheart,” Marcus replied, slipping on a pair of white-rimmed sunglasses adorned with sparkling stones.

“Narnia?” I asked, my hands folded in my lap.

“My design studio, where all the magic happens!” Marcus pressed a kiss to his finger and touched it to my cheek.

I didn’t react, but realized I would have to get used to his…unique style.

Hugo dropped us off at a former industrial lot in the trendy part of the city. Even from the outside, I could tell this place was a security nightmare.

I’d have to call in a favor with a friend to do a site inspection and give me a reasonable quote. I’d been given a budget to secure Marcus’s home and workplace, but I planned to spend it wisely.

“Whazzup, bitches!” Marcus hollered as we entered the large open space. “Who’s going to read the countdown clock for me today?”

“Eighteen days, six hours, and twelve minutes,” a petite woman called from behind a large metal desk.

“Are we going to be ready?!” Marcus shouted, rallying his troops.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” everyone responded enthusiastically.

“These are my little pixies,” Marcus whispered, wiggling his fingers. “They are the true essence of Vero.”

“Say I’m a damn pixie one more time, I dare you. I’ll knock your teeth out!” A woman in her forties, her skin a rich shade of brown, stood with her arms crossed.

Marcus didn’t even blink. “Meet Shaniqua, my technical designer. She’s the one who…”

“Turns his wild, harebrained ideas into something real,” she interjected, finishing his sentence.

Shaniqua was living proof that not everyone could handle Marcus’s quirky personality.

“So, they finally got you a bodyguard, huh?” Shaniqua asked, her fingers flying over her AcuTab.

“Did you figure that out all by yourself, sweetheart?” Marcus replied, placing a hand over his heart in feigned shock.

“Are you serious? With all the crap you spew, I’m shocked no one’s tried to off you yet!”

I was already starting to like this woman.

“All right, I’m bored,” Marcus announced, striding toward a ladder in the middle of the room. He climbed to the top and declared, “Everyone, meet Felix. He’s here to keep me alive until Fashion Week. If you have a problem with that, take it up with him. Thanks!”

Marcus was a total nutcase, but he had a way of commanding a room.

A tall guy with frosted hair and an armful of bracelets approached me, standing uncomfortably close.

“This one’s a real treat,” he said. “Where’d you find him?”

“Back off, Paulo!” Marcus warned. “Don’t scare him off on his first day.”

“Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?” I asked, holding my ground.

“Well, you know what they say. When life hands you a pretty boy, make lemonade,” Marcus said with a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, did I say that out loud? My bad!”

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Sarah, darling. Can I borrow you for a moment?” Marcus called to a girl in the back. “We need to get Lucky out of this dreadful suit.”

What the fuck?

“I’m not some uptight politician. This is Vero, and you need to look the part!”