You are not pleased, but that's not his fault

“Well, Mike, don’t get me wrong,” you begin calm, “but this is not going to make me feel better. You are a nice guy and I’m sure you are reliable, but you are barely armed and your experience is … not the best.”

“I see,” Mike mumbles a little uncomfortable, “you are right, I’m not the best cop in this town. But for the FBI it was very important your guard has not a single connection with your father or his allies.”

“I understand this,” you answer, “but still. My father is a dangerous man. If there is the slightest hint I’m a traitor, neither he nor his henchmen will hesitate to put a bullet in my head and throw me in the ocean. Why does the FBI think a total newbie is the best protection they could get?”

“Listen, I know this must look poor,” Mike says understanding, “but I can guarantee you, I have everything under control. If you need me I will be there. I will not lose a spy under my protection. Especially not a beautiful one like you.”

“I appreciate the compliment,” you say “you are not a bad catch either. Your girlfriend sure is a lucky girl.”

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment,” Mike says and you are sure he is blushing, “I’m very busy with my job. And girls don’t like uniforms that much when the guy in it writes them a ticket.”

“Really?” you ask, “well, I’m sure you will have one in no time. You are fit, good looking and a honest police officer. Who knows, maybe you rescue a hostage in the next days and she falls for you.”

“Hey, don’t make me empty hopes,” Mike answers amused, “it was nice talking with you. If I can do anything to support you, you can call me. Until then, stay safe, Ashley.”

You smile and hang up. Mike seems to be a nice guy. But you still hope his help will not be necessary. Well, who knows. Maybe he surprises you. And he really looks really great in his uniform. You are so lost in day dreaming that you barely hear somebody knocking at your door.

“Yes, please come in!” you say loud and turn around.

The door opens and a girl about your age in a french maid dress appears. You wonder if she is really a maid and that’s her regular clothes or if she is just one of your brothers’ unwilling whores.

“Good evening, mistress,” the girl says sweet, “I’m here to inform you that dinner is ready. But you look a little troubled. Is anything wrong?”

“I just talked with a friend,” you say and shake your mobile phone, “and then my dead mother and that I now have to stay here. It’s a bit much. But that’s not your fault. Thanks for asking. Come on, lead the way!”