The Eleventh Hour

Chapter 18

I was sat in the front passenger seat of the new 2013 Mercedes-Benz M-Class – which I didn’t even know was out yet – feeling slightly awkward.

I think I surprised Jackson when I chose to sit in the front so I could just sit and watch him drive the car rather than look where we were going. He remained professional though and didn’t even bat an eyelid, even if I was creeping him out.

I decided to make small talk. After all, I genuinely wanted to know more about him. I’d met him plenty of times now, but I didn’t know a single thing.

For the first time, I turned away to face straight ahead, trying to think of something to say. I couldn’t think of anything interesting, so I decided to start with the basic.

“So,” I cleared my throat. “How long have you been working for Mr Hart?”

His blank expression didn’t change. “About five years, Ma’am.”

I nearly gagged. I’m not a Ma’am. “Please... please call me Lola.”

For the first time, a small smile spread across his lips.

“Do you enjoy working for him?”

I scrunched my eyes shut and wanted to slap myself on the forehead at my stupid question. I made myself sound like such an idiot.

“He keeps me busy.”

Although his face and tone were professional, I immediately knew I’d like Jackson. I liked his sense of humour. And I really felt safe around him.

I was out of questions already. I clicked my tongue and looked out of the window as the silence ticked by.

“Have you ever had a fight whilst working for Mr Hart?”

I looked away, again cringing deeply and cursing internally at my moronic question.

To my bewildered surprise, Jackson chuckled. “Yes.”

For some reason I smiled. Not because of his answer, but because despite my stupid questions, his responses made me feel really at ease. “What was that like, then?”

He smiled for a second before it vanished again. “Quite enjoyable. They always deserved it.”

I knew I’d make things uncomfortable if I asked for details so I decided to leave it. Maybe I could ask Nathaniel about it later – without getting Jackson into trouble, I thought, noting Nathaniel’s preferences for secretiveness.

We reached the hotel in no time and Jackson accompanied me all the way up to my room. Jeez, it felt like I had my very own bodyguard. But I suppose that’s what Jackson was. He definitely looked like one. He looked like he could be a wrestler.

As I unlocked the door, Jackson came to stand right beside me. “If you’ll excuse me, Ma’am. Wait right here.” He walked into my room as I stayed by the door, dumbfounded. No doubt he was giving the room a once over. No doubt Nathaniel would have told him to do it.

He emerged back into the hallway some thirty seconds later and waited outside as I let myself in, my room was exactly as I left it. Tidy, but clothes draped in the randomest of places. Thankfully, I hadn’t fully unpacked yet, so I was packed and ready in under five minutes.

Jackson automatically picked up my suitcase and large duffle bag as I put them down to shut my door. I blinked in surprise, but muttered a quiet thank you and carried on as we headed back to the elevator.

When we reached reception, I stopped at the desk. The lady who was sat behind it reminded me of the receptionist back at the Hilton all those months ago. I flushed at the memory before clearing my throat to pull myself together.