Goodnight (Broken Heart Series)

Nick stalked down the stairs and into the dining room.

‘What ho, Flopsy,’ Uncle Giles boomed, the volume only slightly reduced by the copious amounts of eggs and bacon stuffed into his mouth. ‘Mrs B. outdid herself again this morning. Nothing like a full English to cure a squiffy head and dicky tummy. Afraid we were all a trifle blotto last night, reunion and all that.’ Nick gave his uncle a reluctant smile before surveying the table. Everyone was tucking into breakfast, including Ed, who had settled in remarkably quickly. But, then again, his family was like that: they pulled people in, made them feel welcome, put them at ease. Nick had yet to meet anyone resistant to it … well, that was if you didn’t count Goodie. Goodie was the reason behind his stalking down the stairs rather than the usual saunter. He hadn’t laid eyes on her since she met his family in the drive yesterday afternoon. For a close protection officer she was decidedly distant, and it was pissing him off. He didn’t quite realize how much he had come to like her being in his line of sight most of the time over the last month.

‘You look cross, Uncle Nicky,’ Arabella informed him around a mouthful of pancakes. She already had straw in her hair; it wouldn’t have surprised Nick if she had slept in the bloody stable.

‘I’m not cross, hedgehog,’ he told her, and she shook her head, causing straw to fall into Bertie’s tea.

‘Oh, sorry, Bertie,’ Arabella said quickly, and to Nick’s surprise she actually looked like she was braced for his reaction.

‘Don’t worry, Bels,’ Bertie said, smiling, and ruffling her hair so that more straw fell into his tea. ‘Straw laced with manure,’ he took a long sip, ‘adds to the flavour, don’t you know.’ She giggled and her shoulders relaxed. Bertie caught Nick’s eye for a moment, frowned up at him, and gave a quick flick of his eyes in Arabella’s direction as if to say, ‘What was that?’ Nick shrugged, deciding to keep a close eye on her over the next few days. But for now he needed to get back to his mission.

‘Good morning, darling,’ he heard from behind him, and turned to see his mum walk in holding a bowl of muesli and a cup of tea, closely followed by his Auntie Rose.

‘Hi, Mum, Rose,’ he muttered distractedly before giving them both a swift kiss on the cheek and moving towards the door. Unlike the rest of the family, his mother was not widely considered to be ‘obnoxiously posh’, in fact she had a very light West Country accent, was quiet and very maternal (which was reflected in the way she dressed: standard Mum uniform of matching jumper and cardy, and hair in a short style that rarely moved even in extreme weather conditions). His Dad had met her at one of the village fêtes and he’d said it was love at first sight. Claire March had not been quite so sure of her feelings for him (the obnoxiously posh bit took a bit to get used to), but he was nothing if not persistent. A year after they met she became Claire Chambers and that was that. Her family may have been apprehensive at first but Nick’s grandparents were soon all sucked into the Chambers family craziness, adding some much need sanity to the mix.

‘Are you looking for someone, darling?’ she asked, and he paused at the door, turning to his mum and raising his eyebrows. She smiled at him, and then sat down next to her husband.

‘It’s just that if you were looking for someone my advice would be to start in the kitchen,’ she said, her back turned to Nick, although he could still hear the smile in her voice.

*****

‘Will he be alright with Xavier’s food, dear?’ Mrs Beckett asked as she bustled around the kitchen getting a bowl and food for Salem. ‘Spect he’ll need a mite bit more though, given the size difference.’ Goodie followed the direction of Mrs Beckett’s gaze to see the pug’s fat little body dancing around a long-suffering Salem and alternating between head-butting his undercarriage and drooling on his paws. But Salem didn’t fool her; she’d seen him lick Xavier’s head before they both fell asleep next to her last night; he was a sucker for this ridiculous snub-nosed ball of energy.

Goodie started to push up to standing. ‘I will do it. Please don’t go to any trouble over …’ She trailed off, then stilled as she felt Mrs Beckett’s hand on her shoulder.

‘I’m happy to do it, love,’ Mrs Beckett said gently. ‘Reckon you could do with some time in that chair and some caffeine before you start your day.’

Goodie was not used to other people taking care of Salem for her. She looked after him just like she looked after herself.

Just like she had done since she was nine.

The idea of someone else shouldering some of her responsibilities, in however small a way, was … unsettling. To Goodie this house and the people in it were all unsettling, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She’d woken up this morning to the sounds and smells Mrs Beckett was creating, and to the low voices accompanying them. When she emerged into the kitchen she had come face to face with two middle-aged women. Neither showed surprise at her entrance, almost as if she was expected – almost as if they were waiting for her.

‘Hello, dear,’ one of the women had said, moving towards her, her expression cautious but warm. ‘I’m Claire, Nick’s mother. They call you Goodie, is that right?’ Goodie nodded. ‘I’m grateful to you for looking after my boy.’

Goodie shrugged. ‘I didn’t do –’

‘I know what you did, love.’ Claire cut her off, then Goodie stiffened as she moved further into her personal space as if to hug her. Taking in Goodie’s defensive stance, Claire slowed her approach and reached for Goodie’s hand instead, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it. ‘So, do you eat breakfast?’ she had asked, breaking the tense atmosphere. Goodie nodded slowly. ‘Great, because Mrs Beckett here makes a mean bacon and eggs. Word of warning though – don’t try to call her by her first name; the most informal she’ll tolerate is Mrs B.’

‘If you had a first name like mine you wouldn’t want to be called it either,’ Mrs Beckett put in, glaring at Claire. ‘Anyway Beckett reminds me of my husband George, God rest his soul.’

Goodie looked over at the other woman’s kind face; she was a little heavier and taller than Nick’s mother and was wearing an apron with the message ‘Hot stuff coming through!’ on the front.

‘Master Nicky got this for me,’ Mrs Beckett said, having noticed Goodie’s gaze dropping down. ‘He’s a one, isn’t he, Claire; got me a whole assortment of these over the years, each one cheekier than the last. Now, come and sit down, let me fuss you.’

And so, for the first time in her life, Goodie was fussed over, and for some reason she allowed it. Claire had asked if she would come up to have breakfast in the dining room, which had confused Goodie; why would they want her up there? These English people were crazy. Claire just smiled at her refusal before giving Mrs Beckett a side hug as she fried bacon at the stove, and then she turned to leave.

‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ Goodie stared at a bristling Nick framed by the kitchen doorway. She’d never actually seen him without a suit on and was disappointed that even wearing jeans and a jumper he was still mind-numbingly beautiful. She stared at him, keeping her expression neutral.

‘Here,’ she said simply, taking another sip of her coffee.

‘Want some more coffee, Nick-Nack?’ Mrs Beckett asked as she came in from the dog’s room.

‘No, don’t worry, I’m …’ Nick trailed off as something behind Mrs B. caught his eye. ‘What the hell?’ he muttered as she strode over to the door at which Mrs Beckett had just exited, and threw it open. Goodie watched as his gaze swept the room, his body locking with tension. When he turned to face her, she realized that he was stiff with rage.

‘Where did you sleep?’ he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Goodie stared at him again before inclining her head towards the dog’s room. From the angry vibes he was giving out and his furious scowl, Goodie was guessing he had seen the blanket she had slept on next to the dogs last night, and for some reason he was not impressed by the arrangement.

‘We’ve got spare bedrooms coming out of our ears, Goodie. Why in the fu–?’ Nick broke off, flicking an almost nervous glance to Mrs Beckett who had crossed her arms over her ample chest. Goodie stifled a laugh; she would put money on the fact that Mrs Beckett had been a fixture at this house since Nick was a child, and the fact that he was unwilling to swear in front of her was testament to that and kind of … sweet. Sweet? When had Goodie thought anything was sweet in recent memory? She frowned; he was confusing her again. ‘Why on earth did you choose to sleep on the goddamn floor?’

Goodie pushed back in her chair and stood slowly from the table, keeping her gaze focused on Nick’s furious brown eyes the whole time. ‘You forget,’ she told him, ‘I am here to do a job.’

Nick threw up his arms in frustration and let out and angry breath. ‘You can do your job and sleep in a bed for Christ’s sake.’

‘Nick-Nack!’

‘Sorry, Mrs B.,’ he muttered, and Goodie had that ridiculous urge to laugh again.

‘I assessed the perimeter of the grounds yesterday, and then I assessed the security around the house. This back entrance to the kitchen is the weakest point. If I were looking for a way to get in, that is where I would start. With me sleeping at the entrance it is secure. This is me doing my job. You will note that I do not tell you how to do yours. I would appreciate the same courtesy.’

Both Nick’s hands went to his hips. ‘I’ll not have you sleeping on the floor with the bloody dogs.’

‘That is not your decision to make.’

‘Urgh!’ Nick huffed. ‘You are literally the most stubborn woman I have ever met.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Goodie returned, her lip curling.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Nothing,’ she said, forcing her expression back to neutral; she didn’t know why she was letting him affect her like this. She didn’t do angry exchanges with clients. In general she didn’t reveal any emotion at all if she could help it.

‘Bullshit.’

‘Nick!’

‘Sorry, Mrs B.’

She shrugged and turned away from him.

‘You’re scared to tell me what you meant, aren’t you?’ he said, skirting the table to approach her. Her eyes snapped back to his and she felt her temper rise.

‘If you must know, I am not surprised you find me more difficult than the other women of your acquaintance. I’m quite sure that when it comes to you they are very accommodating. But you’re not dealing with one of your simpering little idiots now, you arrogant zhopa;* I have a job to do and I am going to do in the way I choose.’

Nick stared at her and narrowed his eyes. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face and smell his clean, masculine scent. For a moment her mind went blank.

*****

Nick watched as Goodie’s pupils dilated and her breathing grew shallow. It was subtle, but he knew he was affecting her. For a brief second she looked a little lost, as if she couldn’t understand what was happening.

‘Goodie,’ he called softly, and she nodded without breaking eye contact. He took a risk and brought his hand up to the side of her face to cup her jaw, his thumb going to the small crescent scar next to her eye and his fingers sliding into her silky hair. ‘I don’t want you to sleep on the floor.’ She frowned slightly, as if she wasn’t following the thread of the conversation. ‘What will it take for you to sleep in one of the bedrooms?’

‘An alarm system that covers the perimeter of the entire house, with motion sensors at every door and window, a direct line to me, the far guards and the central office.’ Her eyes were still locked with his, and she spoke automatically, as if she wasn’t even really aware of what she was saying.

‘Right,’ he muttered, his face descending even closer to hers.

‘Ahem.’ He heard Mrs Beckett clear her throat when his mouth was literally a hair’s breath from Goodie’s, and he closed his eyes in frustration. He loved Mrs B.; she was a most excellent woman, but her timing was atrocious. Goodie blinked and took a frenzied step back, smacking straight into one of the chairs. Her face was clouded with anger and maybe even fear until she reined it in. Nick had never seen her in the least bit clumsy before; she was always so composed, her movements always controlled. But yes, he affected her, that much she couldn’t hide. One side of his mouth hitched up in a lopsided grin and the fear in Goodie’s expression was replaced entirely with anger. Mrs B. turned back to the stove, but not before she gave Nick a disapproving look. He winked at her and reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone.

‘Conner? … Right, need you to set up an alarm system at the country house … High spec, best you can get … no, no that’s not good enough; it’s got to be today. I don’t care if it’s Easter weekend.’ Nick frowned as his head of security in London banged on about all the reasons they couldn’t do any installation today: things like delivery times, workforce, transport. Nick rolled his eyes; if he still had his old, eminently competent assistant and not Bertie, she would be dealing with this crap right now.

‘Conner,’ Nick said again, his tone now a good deal firmer, ‘I want this done today. I don’t care how much it costs; keep throwing numbers around until you get results … whatever, okay? Right, good. I’ll expect someone here by lunchtime.’

He disconnected the call and searched the kitchen for Goodie. She was standing next to Salem at the door to the dog’s room, as far from him as she could get without actually leaving the room. For the first time since Nick had managed to tempt Salem with a biscuit he was baring his teeth at him, his ears flattened against his head. Nick knew it wasn’t just Goodie’s anger Salem was reacting to: the dog could smell the fear in the air. Nick slowly returned his phone to his pocket and took a step towards her. Salem gave a low growl and he stopped in his tracks, lifting both his hands palm up.

‘You are crazy man,’ Goodie said, her Russian accent stronger now. ‘You already have an alarm system. The only weak point is here. I can easily sleep here. You think I haven’t slept in worst places?’ Her voice lowered almost to a whisper. ‘You have no idea the places I’ve slept in before, the conditions I’ve survived. Don’t patronize me. This –’ she threw her hand out to the dog’s room ‘– this is nothing to me.’

‘I don’t care what conditions you slept in before,’ Nick said slowly, holding her gaze and crossing his arms over his chest. ‘You’ll not sleep on the goddamn floor in my house. It’s time you realized that you work for me.’ Goodie’s eyebrows went up at that. ‘And you will do as I say.’ Her mouth opened to speak but he cut her off. ‘Now, I was led to believe that you are my close protection officer. Since I’ve not laid eyes on you for the last –’ he checked his watch ‘– sixteen hours, I’d say that was a very loose interpretation of that job title.’ By this stage Goodie’s slight frame was literally vibrating with anger, her face flushed red. Nick was so enthralled by the absence of her emotionless mask that he decided to push his luck. ‘You will be joining my family today. You will be having meals with us and you will be spending time with us. This invisible presence bullshit ends right now.’

‘I will do my job as I see fit.’

‘You’ll do as I say … that is unless you’re scared to spend time with my family.’ Her sharply indrawn breath of outrage almost made him smile. ‘After all, I do realize that we can be a little intimidating en masse; but I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to worry about –’

‘Fine,’ Goodie snapped. ‘Whatever you say, sir.’

Nick clenched his jaw. He’d let that go.

For now.