The Bodyguard (Norcross #4) - Anna Hackett Page 0,1

act as they pleased, and show their love.

Sofie shook off the burn in her stomach. She was healthy, wealthy, and privileged. She had nothing to be sad about.

She also had purpose.

Their other best friend from university, Victoria, had none of those options anymore.

Sofie’s jaw tightened. Three years ago, after a vicious robbery and attack, Victoria had committed suicide. In the blink of an eye, a bright, wonderful woman had been gone.

“You’re thinking of Tori.”

At Caro’s comment, Sofie blinked at the screen. Her friend was staring at her intently. Caro had always had the uncanny ability to read Sofie, even when she had on her best, expressionless, “princess” face.

“I miss her.”

“Me, too,” Caro said quietly.

Tori had been the outgoing, funny, life of the party in their trio.

Then, a gang of ruthless international thieves had targeted her. She was from a wealthy, aristocratic family, and Tori had owned an impressive collection of family jewels. The thieves had taken the gems, and two of them had brutally raped her.

Tori had been…shattered.

On top of that, her family had blamed her for the loss of the family heirlooms. Despite her boyfriend’s support, she’d sunk into a dark depression, and Caroline and Sofie hadn’t been able to pull her out of it. Several months after the attack, Tori had swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills.

“I wish…” Sofie wished a lot of things were different. Tori’s absence had left a gnawing ache in Sofie’s chest.

“I know,” Caro said. “But Sofie, to honor her, we have to live.”

Sofie nodded.

“I’m going to go hug my babies. And I want you to find a hot, American Hollywood star to have a fling with.”

Sofie laughed.

“You’re attending a star-studded gala, and of course, wearing some of my best jewelry designs. I’m sure you’ll find a square-jawed hunk to give you wonderful orgasms.”

Caro was a successful, highly-sought-after jewelry designer all across Europe. Sofie’s collection of jewelry was arriving separately under heavy guard.

“For a happily married woman, you sure have sex on the brain,” Sofie noted dryly.

“When was the last time you had sex?” Caro demanded.

“Quit obsessing over my sex life. You know it’s…difficult.”

She had constant security, and the eyes of the press on her. The last time she’d had a man in her bed was when she’d dated a German diplomat. Martin had been…handsome, with impeccable manners. And very boring in bed.

Before that was her almost-fiancé, Prince Not-So-Charming. The self-absorbed, spoiled ass had cheated on her. Multiple times.

“Darling, I have twin toddlers,” Caro said. “My sex life is nonexistent, so I’m hoping to live vicariously through yours.”

Sofie rolled her eyes.

“Have a good time, that’s all,” Caro continued. “You’re stalker-free for the next week and a half.”

Sofie wrinkled her nose. “He slipped a note into my things.”

Caro cursed.

“Don’t fret, my parents organized additional security.” Sofie wrinkled her nose again. “I’m picking up a big, stoic local bodyguard here in San Francisco.”

“Good.” Caro pressed her fingers to the screen. “Stay safe, look gorgeous, and have some hot sex.”

“Off you go, you sex fiend.”

Laughing, they ended the call.

The plane started descending and Sofie looked out the window. She had a perfect view of the city of San Francisco, the waters of the Bay, and the Golden Gate Bridge.

She had almost two weeks of interviews and photo shoots to help promote the Glittering Court: A Royal Jewelry Exhibition and Gala starting in just over a week. The exhibition would donate a large sum to her charity. She was also fitting in some work to support her charity.

In just a few moments, she’d have to put on her “princess” face. She’d smile, be polite, gracious.

The copilot appeared from the cockpit. “Your Highness, we’ll be landing momentarily.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

With a sigh, Sofie picked up the note she’d tossed on the floor earlier and stuck it in her bag. No doubt someone would want to see it.

She clicked her belt on, and focused herself to be ready for the onslaught. For the most part, she liked it. When little girls handed her flowers and asked about being a princess, it was fun. When she got the chance to talk about her charity and the work they did, she appreciated the attention.

But the paparazzi, hoping for topless shots of her, or catching her in a clinch, made her shudder. She sighed.

She had fairly thick skin. The tabloid stories could get pretty ridiculous. She was pretty sure that over the last year alone, she’d been secretly married to a sixty-eight-year-old Italian count, had a famous model’s love child, and had