Secret Service

Three

Alaric adjusted the tie that had been tied too tightly around his neck by Caitlyn an hour and a half before. He had rung the doorbell to Gwendolyn's loft thirty seconds ago, and still, she failed to answer.

He briefly wondered if Gwen was as nervous about this night as he was. Likely, she wouldn't be. She was the daughter of a billionaire — a president, she was well versed in attending events such as tonight's.

It was Alaric who had been the fish out of the water. Caitlyn and Michael spent hours training him on how to behave in a setting of the elite, but he failed to pay attention to most of it.

It was all a farce, and it didn't truly matter how he acted at the end of the day. His job was simple.

Find the killer, and protect Gwen.

He had little interest in much else, but Cailtyn had acted as though he would be escorting the Queen of England.

Alaric made way to knock at the door, wondering if she failed to hear the doorbell when the doors finally opened. Gwendolyn stood there, dressed up in a way he had only seen through pictures.

She wore a modest, tight navy blue gown covered in sequins. Her long blonde hair had been pulled up into an ornate bun with diamond incrested pins throughout the petal-like braids.

She looked... amazing, and for a moment Alaric had forgotten his words.

"Sorry, Rome wasn't built in a day," Gwendolyn said sheepishly before letting Alaric in. He hesitantly took a step into the apartment.

Though the words apartment or loft failed to describe the luxury of her home. The wall on the far end of the apartment had been covered in exposed brick. A black spiral staircase led to a loft which he could only assume was her bedroom.

The furniture was modern, yet visibly expensive. She had a cream leather couch sitting in front of the fireplace with a tv mounted above it.

To the left in the open floorplan had been the kitchen, which had been styled to appear as though she had never cooked a meal in it.

The only part of the apartment that showcased any personality was the dining room which was converted into an art studio. An easel sat in the center with unfinished art.

Against the walls were pieces she had either chosen to scrap or just never finish. Gwendolyn moved around nervously, grabbing things she may have forgotten and putting them into a small bag.

She was taller than he recalled before, but from the clicking sound on the hardwood floors, it was obvious she had been already wearing her heels.

"You clean up nicely." Gwendolyn smiled as she finished her fluttering and made her way back to the door where Alaric stood in the designer three-piece suit.

"This is all Caitlyn." He muttered, "All I did was show up."

Gwendolyn watched as he uncomfortably adjusted the ends of his suit. She had a self-satisfied smirk on her lips before she spoke, "We should get going, I would hate to be the only person who is late."

"I'd be late, too." Alaric pointed out, "You wouldn't be alone."

Gwendolyn paused for a moment, "Well, I can never truly be alone with you — at least for as long as you're working for my father."

"I am working for you, Miss Cavanaugh." Alaric pointed out before offering her his arm for her to take. He couldn't help but enjoy the blush that appeared on her face as she took his arm, letting him lead her out of her apartment and back into the night air.

Alaric had been more than vigilant when he had approached her stoop, knowing what happened the last time someone stood there with their guard down.

Nothing on her street appeared unusual. He'd recognized the numerous unmarked vehicles belonging to the Secret Service that had been parallel parked at random intervals on her street.