Two Little Secrets From My Boss

Chapter 114

Maya’s POV

I didn't expect Archibald Hankel to be part of the equation.

I'd done my research, of course. Five years of preparation meant I knew everyone in Xander Hale's orbit—business associates, family members, the constellation of people who moved through his world.

Archie occupied complicated territory: business rival but not quite enemy, tolerated rather than trusted. The dynamic between them puzzled me during my months of reconnaissance.

They circled each other warily in professional settings, competitive and sharp-edged, yet somehow remained entangled in each other's lives beyond the boardroom.

I'd categorized him as peripheral. Potentially useful, but not essential to my plans. What I didn't anticipate was Daphne.

"Archie's handling security coordination," she explains over morning coffee, her hands wrapped around a mug that says World's Okayest Mom in faded letters.

"He offered when everything started, and honestly, I don't know what we would have done without him. He's been a good friend through all of this."

I keep my expression neutral, interested. "That's generous of him. Especially given his relationship with your husband—I understand they're not exactly close?"

"It's complicated."

Daphne's smile carries genuine warmth, the kind that can't be manufactured.

"They have history, and they don't always see eye to eye on business matters. But when it comes to the things that actually matter? Family, safety, protecting the people we love? Archie shows up. He always shows up."

I file the information away. Daphne trusts Archie. Daphne considers him a friend. Another thread in the web I'm weaving, another relationship to map and potentially exploit.

"I'm sure you'll meet him today," she continues. "He wanted to go over security protocols with you, make sure you know what to do if anything happens. Don't let the charm fool you—he takes this seriously."

"I appreciate thoroughness." I take a sip of my coffee. "It's reassuring to know someone experienced is overseeing things."

"He is that. Experienced, I mean. And stubborn as hell when he thinks he's right." She laughs softly. "But his heart's in the right place. You'll see."

And I do meet him that afternoon in the study after Daphne briefed me on him more.

He's reviewing security protocols on a tablet when I enter, sandy hair slightly disheveled, expensive clothes worn with the kind of studied casualness that takes effort to achieve.

The afternoon light catches the sharp line of his jaw, the way his brow furrows in concentration. When he looks up, his smile comes easily—the kind of charm that seems effortless because he's worn it so long it fits like skin.

"You must be Maya." He sets down the tablet and extends a hand. "Daphne speaks highly of you, which is not something she does lightly. I'm Archie."

"She's been very welcoming." I return the handshake—firm, professional, nothing memorable. "I understand you're overseeing security? I have to admit, I expected someone more... official."

He laughs, gesturing for me to sit in the chair across from his. "Official doesn't always mean competent, in my experience. And this situation requires competence, not uniforms."

Something flickers behind his easy expression, there and gone.

"Xander and I have our differences. Plenty of them, actually. But when it comes to protecting the people who matter, we manage to agree."

"That's admirable. Setting aside personal conflicts for something larger."

"Admirable or practical." He shrugs, but I catch the tension in his shoulders. "Nina and Lisa didn't ask to be part of any of this. They deserve to feel safe in their own home. Everything else is just noise."

He pulls up a schematic on his tablet, turning it so I can see.

"Let me walk you through the basics. Camera placements, check-in procedures, who to call if something seems off. Daphne mentioned you have experience with high-profile families?"

"In Connecticut and Boston, yes. Neither situation involved active threats, but the protocols were similar." I lean forward, studying the layout. "You've got good coverage of the main entrances, but this angle here…"

I point to the garden door. "There's a blind spot. Someone could approach from the hedge line without being seen."

His eyebrows rise. "You noticed that?"

"I notice everything. It's why families hire me."

"Fair enough." He makes a note on his tablet. "I'll have that adjusted by the end of day. What else do you see?"

We spend the next hour reviewing every detail—the check-in schedule, the emergency contacts, the procedures for different threat levels.

His explanations are thorough but not condescending. He asks my input on scheduling logistics and actually listens when I offer suggestions, incorporating several into his plans without ego or defensiveness.

I recognized the performance immediately. The effortless charm, the disarming friendliness—it's armor, same as my competent professionalism. He's hiding something beneath that polished surface.

I can see it in the way his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes sometimes, the way his fingers tap against the tablet when he thinks I'm not watching.

Wounds. Old ones, barely healed. He doesn't want anyone to see them, but they're there. Wounded people are useful. Wounded people can be manipulated.

"So," he says, leaning back in his chair with that practiced ease, "Daphne mentioned you came highly recommended. Three years with one family is impressive—most people in your field burn out much faster."

"The Harrisons were exceptional." I keep my voice warm, open. "Their son had some challenges, and I suppose I got attached. It's a hazard of the profession."

"Attachment." He says the word like he's testing its weight. "Dangerous thing in this line of work."

"Caring about the children I protect? I'd argue it's essential."

"I wasn't talking about the children."

Our eyes meet. For a moment, something passes between us—recognition, maybe. Two people who've learned to hide behind masks, seeing each other's edges.

Then he laughs, and it's genuine this time, surprised. His whole face transforms, the careful charm falling away to reveal something younger, warmer, almost boyish.

"Sorry." He shakes his head. "That came out more ominous than I intended. I just meant that this family has a way of pulling people in. Daphne especially. One minute you're doing a job, the next you're invested in ways you didn't expect."

I feel an unwelcome flicker of something that isn't a strategy. Something that recognizes the warmth in his laugh, that responds to the genuineness beneath his performance.

I crush it immediately.

"I'll keep that in mind." I stand, smoothing my slacks. "Thank you for the thorough briefing. I feel much better prepared."

"Anytime." He stands too, extending his hand again. "Welcome to the chaos, Maya. I have a feeling you'll fit right in."

His handshake lingers a fraction of a second longer than necessary. I don't let myself wonder why.

Later, I pass Daphne in the hallway near the twins' playroom. She's carrying a stack of picture books, her hair escaping its ponytail, looking like a woman who hasn't stopped moving since dawn.

"Oh, Maya. How did the meeting with Archie go?"

"He seems... capable," I offer carefully. "Very thorough with the security protocols."

Daphne's smile is immediate and unguarded. "He is. He's been through a lot—his family, his brother—but he never lets it show. Just keeps showing up, and keeps helping."

She pauses, something soft entering her expression.

"He was there for me when I needed someone. Before Xander and I figured things out, when everything was complicated and I didn't know which way was up. He never asked for anything in return. I don't forget that."

Loyalty, trust and affection. Another weapon, if I need one.

"That's rare," I say. "People who show up without expecting something back."

"It is." She shifts the books in her arms. "Archie is a good man—underneath all the charm and the jokes. Don't let him convince you otherwise."

I thank her and continue down the hall, my footsteps silent on the marble floor, already calculating how these relationships might serve my purpose.