Royce tried to look past the surface stuff to the deeper meaning and intent beneath the words.
What he was listening to convinced him that Steve Brady was a sociopathic bully.
Bullying was all about power and control.
Bullies also typically targeted people who tended not to retaliate, who in fact responded in such a way as to feed their negative behaviour.
Which surprised him.
Shara was not that kind of person.
Their short acquaintance demonstrated that she gave as good as she got. He couldn’t imagine her allowing herself to be bullied.
But then everything wasn’t always as it seemed.
As he should know.
He’d fallen for a woman who’d pretended to be something she wasn’t.
He knew first-hand that looks could be deceiving.
In Shara’s case he’d seen her fear a moment ago.
It had been genuine. He would bet his career on it.
The question was: why was she pretending she wasn’t?
There had to be a reason.
There was always a reason.
That was something he’d learned well before starting the Royce Agency. People always had a motive for doing something.
Royce rose to his feet.
Shara’s head shot in his direction so fast he was surprised she didn’t pull a muscle. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going to talk to him.’
Her face showed alarm. ‘Don’t do that!’
Royce ignored her and picked up the phone. ‘Brady …?’
The tirade was cut off mid-stream and replaced with screaming silence. Royce let the quietness drag on. He was used to situations like these, and immune to the resulting tension.
He doubted it was the same for Brady. No doubt the silence was playing havoc with the other man’s nerves.
As he’d expected, Brady broke the silence first. ‘Who is this?’
‘My name is Royce. I’m a friend of Shara’s.’ He spoke calmly and confidently, although his voice hardened as he added, ‘And I’m warning you to leave her alone or you won’t like the consequences.’
His response was more silence. Uncertain silence. Obviously Brady was trying to come to grips with the sudden turnaround in events.
‘My God! It didn’t take the little slut long to move on, did it?’ His voice was vicious. ‘You’re not the first, you know. Why don’t you ask her just how many men she slept with while she was married to me?’
Royce frowned. If he ignored the content of Brady’s words for a moment and concentrated on the way he spoke he would be able to learn a lot.
One, although his tone was vicious Brady had spoken more calmly than Royce would have given him credit for, given his previous tirade. And, two, Brady didn’t wait for an answer but hung up the phone—softly.
Both of those things suggested he was very much in control.
Surely that hinted at the fact that Brady was telling the truth?
He’d seen enough musical beds in the homes of the rich and famous during his time running the Royce Agency to know that that kind of behaviour went on all the time.
It was an attitude that sickened him. Although he was no monk, and had had his share of women over the years—some might even say more than his fair share—Royce always remained faithful to the woman he was with.
For however long it lasted—which admittedly wasn’t very long.
Why would he want to tie himself to one woman when there was a world of women out there to enjoy?
Back in his parents’ day getting married and having children was the done thing. These days things were much more flexible. Some couples got married. Others chose to live together. And others remained single, either through choice or circumstance.
Royce planned on being one of the latter.
But while he was in a relationship he treated his woman with respect.
Royce glanced at Shara.
Beautiful, sexy Shara.
Maybe she had been sleeping around. Maybe that was why her marriage had turned sour.
It was possible.
But it didn’t really matter.
He was a bodyguard, not the morality police.
Nothing excused Brady’s behaviour. Abuse of any kind—whether it was verbal, emotional or physical—was inexcusable.
And what he’d just heard—both on the answering machine and during his conversation with Brady—convinced him that Shara had been abused in some way.
A wave of fury rode up his spine.
He was going to take a great deal of pleasure in bringing the other man to his knees.
‘What the hell did you do that for?’ Shara demanded as Royce dropped the phone back into its cradle.
Royce swung in her direction. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Shara jumped to her feet and then wished she hadn’t. She was so angry she was shaking, her heart beating nineteen to the dozen. ‘You had no right to do that. No right at all.’
She began to pace, her sandals making a slap-slap sound on the tiles, then fading to nothing as she crossed the Aubusson rug.
Thoughts swirled through her head, one after the other, so fast they made her dizzy.
One thought stood out amongst all the others: all her hard work had just been undone in one fell swoop.
Anger ripped through her. Grinding to a halt in the middle of the Aubusson rug, she slammed her hands down on her hips and glared at Royce. ‘Who gave you permission to butt your nose in like that? This is precisely the situation I wanted to avoid. You’ve ruined everything, damn it!’
Royce gave her a puzzled look. ‘Perhaps you’d like to explain what it is you think I’ve ruined, exactly? Because I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.’
‘Everything!’ Shara raked a hand through her hair, unsurprised to find it was shaking. ‘This is precisely the reason I didn’t want a bodyguard in the first place. I don’t need some stranger interfering in my business. This is my situation and I’ll deal with it my way.’
Royce didn’t look the least bit impressed by her outburst. He was still standing by the phone. Still looking cool, calm and completely unruffled.
The fact that he was so in control while she was falling apart at the seams infuriated Shara no end.
‘First, when he hired me to protect you, your father gave me permission to handle the situation my way. That’s the only way I do business. He knows that. I have to have full control.’ He folded his arms across his impressive chest. ‘And, second, if what I’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours is any example of the way you’ve been dealing with the situation then it’s entirely ineffective.’
Pressure built inside her head until Shara thought she was going to explode. She could hardly stand still, but at the same time found that her muscles were locked so rigidly tight she was incapable of moving.
Here we go again.
Another man telling her what to do.
Another man trying