Aria Graice - 1. Chapter 1

Drew Chance rubbed at his thighs, rough denim irritating still healing scars. He should stop, and he’d pay for it later, but he always rubbed his thighs when he was nervous. He couldn’t help it. Not that he had anything to be nervous about. After four years in SAS Black Ops there wasn’t much that scared him these days, especially now he was out of the forces and working private security – at least not until this job.

Slapping his hands on the table in frustration, he drew startled glances from other patrons of the quirky café where he liked to start his day. He quickly lowered his gaze and took a mouthful of coffee. Rich, dark heat burst across his tongue and burned his throat.

“Ah.” He sighed, some of the tension leaving him. A chuckle had him glancing askew at the man he was sharing a table with.

“Suck it up,” his best friend and former superior officer, Jeff Nicholls, knew him way too well.

“It’s hot.”

“I wasn’t talking about the coffee.”

Drew growled and viciously speared an innocent piece of bacon that had been trying to hide under the fried egg. He thrust it into his mouth, so he wouldn’t be expected to respond. Fat chance. He knew Jeff wouldn’t let things lie just because he wanted him to. Still, his friend said nothing and merely concentrated on his own breakfast. It never ceased to amaze Drew how fast a relatively small, compact man, could put away enormous quantities of food without breaking a sweat. Drew was more contained and liked to savour each mouthful, keeping each flavour separate or combining them to make his favourites.

Bacon and egg, now that was combination made in heaven. He pierced the golden globe with his knife and speared another piece of bacon. This time, he wasn’t so angry with it, so he took time lathering the meat with a good dollop of thick, yellow yolk, taking a moment to savour the smell, which was like no other. There had been times in his life when he’d thought about becoming vegetarian, then he’d smell bacon and it was all off. Breathing deeply through his nose, he closed his eyes and savoured that first touch of salty sweetness against his tongue.

“When you’ve finished making love to the bacon maybe you’ll tell me exactly what’s got your knickers in a twist this time?”

Drew opened his eyes and glared at Jeff. “You’re a philistine when it comes to food, know that?”

Jeff shrugged. “It doesn’t stay around long enough to be appreciated. Too much time on tours when stuffing down as much as possible as fast as possible was the only way to survive when there was no more to be had for days.”

“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and still manage to enjoy good bacon.”

“Lucky you. Spill. It doesn’t seem like such a big deal to me. It’s a cushy op. I’d kill to be in your shoes.”

“Right. You take the job then.”

“With my mug? You know why they chose you and you know why they’ll choose you for jobs like this again and again, at least until you’ve outgrown the pretty-boy image.”

“Jesus, I never thought I was signing up to a modelling contest.”

Jeff reached over the table and cuffed him across the head. “What have I always told you? Keep your head down, your eyes open and play to your strengths. In a war zone those were your speed, flexibility and accuracy. Here, they’re your glossy hair and soulful eyes – oh and that tight bubble-butt you work so hard on.”

“I do not—”

The laughter stopped him and pulled him in. Jeff knew how to make him see perspective; always had. From the moment he’d set eyes on the raw new recruit, fresh from the poverty of the Welsh Valleys he’d made Drew’s life a misery, right up to the point when Drew had finally realized why. Since then, they’d been as close as two straight men could be. Except only one of them was actually straight. Drew had no idea what Jeff would do if he came out, but he had no illusions their friendship would remain unchanged, so he’d suffered through the usual macho bullshit and matchmaking attempts. It couldn’t last for much longer though. He’d been on the point of telling more than once.

“Alright, alright, you win. I’ll go flutter my eyelashes at the pretty princess and make sure no one steps on her pointy little toes.”

Jeff guffawed, and Drew couldn’t help but chuckle. “Babysitting jobs” as they were referred to in the firm were cushy numbers that effectively amounted to following around spoiled rich kids, making sure they didn’t get into too much trouble. For some of his colleagues they were a dream come true, for him, they were a nightmare he’d managed to avoid so far. He shuddered and caught himself rubbing his leg again.

“What have you got against the kid?” Jeff frowned and leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have a problem with him being bi do you? Because that kind of attitude can get you booted out the door if it interfered with the job.”

Drew gaped at him, swallowed hard, then took a too-large mouthful of coffee which he almost spat out when it burned him.

“No,” he spluttered, wiping at his sore lips with a paper napkin. “Nothing like that.”

“Good.” Jeff went back to attacking his breakfast, leaving Drew shaken. Was this an indication that Jeff was okay with homosexuality? Was this time to come clean? “So, what do you have against Aria Graice that has got your knickers twisted so far up your crack you can use them to floss your teeth?”

Drew sipper more carefully at his coffee, allowing the spicy aroma to clear his head and calm his pounding nerves. He set down his mug and ran his finger around the rim, over and over. That was a pretty good question actually. What did he have against Aria Graice?

Aria Graice had it all. Doted-on son of two “A list” celebrities, twin brother of a supernova rock star, with his own burgeoning career as you tuber and Instagram personality. He was the toast of the town, the quintessential “It” boy, and clearly a spoiled little princess. That was it. If Drew could find it in himself to be honest, he would admit that the one thing he had against Aria was how easily life had thrown itself at his feel, how little he’d had to work for any of it. After growing up in poverty and witnessing far worse overseas, he had little time for people who had everything and valued nothing.

He wasn’t going to say that, though, because he knew it made him sound bitter and envious, and maybe he was, but he couldn’t see that changing any time soon. Instead, he shrugged.

“It’s not that I have anything against him, it’s just I don’t like this kind of job. I wasn’t trained to sit around looking pretty and put up with inane chatter from plastic people.”

“Ah,” Jeff said, nodding sagely. He then went back to the last few mouthfuls on his plate. “Are you going to finish that.” He waved a fork at Drew’s food with a vaguely hopeful expression.

Drew moved his breakfast closer. “Hands off.” He didn’t think Jeff would resort to stealing off his plate, not in pubic, but he concentrated on finishing as quickly as he could, and the matter of Aria Graice was dropped.

When they’d finished, Jeff took out his wallet, but when Drew made to do the same, Jeff waved him away. “My treat,” he said. “You need all your strength to wade through the bullshit.” He winked at Jeff then turned sharply and wove through the, now crowded, tables to the counter. Drew shook his head and chuckled.

It was a perfect spring day, the air still redolent from an earlier shower. London in April wasn’t always so kind with her weather, so he made the most of is, strolling slowly, breathing in the sights, sounds and smells of his favourite place on earth. Yes, if you scratched below the surface you’d find filth and squalor but that, too, was beautiful in its own way, if you knew how and where to look. He’d seen flowers bloom in wastelands and sewers, patchworked clothes hung out to dry over naked children playing underneath, people with literally nothing but the clothes they wore tearing strips out of their only shirt to bind a wound or mop a brow. It seemed to him that the greatest generosity came from people with the least to give.

Drew checked his phone for the address then altered his course slightly until he crossed a road and found himself in one of the many streets of old Victorian town houses for which London was famous.

It was, as expected, a perfect row of blindingly white buildings with porticoed entrances and balconies on the upper levels. A plan of the house had come with the file, noting all the entrances, exits, doors, windows, alarm points etc. The place was enormous, bigger than it looked from here. Spread over five floors, with a dance studio in the attic, it had more floor space than half a street back in his home town. In a place where space was at a premium, the size alone screamed wealth. Did that make him uncomfortable? Hell yeah. Boys from the Welsh valleys didn’t belong in places like this, and no amount of “scrubbing up” was going to change that.

He strolled down the street, acutely aware of how out-of-place he was, even though he’d be forced to admit, if asked, that his uniform of blue jeans, black t-shirt and denim jacket was pretty much classless these days. A strong scent of lavender surrounded him as he approached the correct house, and he noticed bushes in elaborate planters each side of the door and interspersed with bright yellow and red flowers in window boxes on the ground floor.

Feeling somehow exposed, Drew mounted the steps to the porch, noting the small steep steps that led down to another door below ground level, and raised the heavy brass knocker on the black front door. He jumped when he released it and it fell with a resounding crash. He hadn’t expected it to be so loud. While waiting for the door to be answered, he looked around, marking possible danger, spots, places where enemies could be lurking undetected.

The door opened silently, and Drew found himself face-to-face with a caricature. Balding, rigidly upright, dressed in a formal suit and with an expression of distain sharp enough to cut paper, this could surely only be the butler.

"May I help you, sir?”

The clipped tone of mixed deference and distaste was distinctly British and made Drew want to straighten his spine and lift his chin. He forced himself to do neither.

“Andrew Chance. I believe I’m expected.”

“Ah yes. Mr Chance. The new…security detail. Please come in.”

Drew sidled through the door, which the butler closed behind him. He found himself in an enormous entrance hall dressed floor to ceiling in stunning white marble. A gold-and-crystal chandelier hung in the center, over a circular rug in the form of a white and palest pink rose. To the left was a small seating area, in the bow-window, and to the right, a spectacular spiral staircase rose to a higher floor. Dotted around the walls were five doors, all of which were closed.

“Please take a seat.” The butler indicated the seating area. “Miss Montgomery will be with you shortly.”

According to the file, Alicia Montgomery was the boys’ personal assistant, and would be Drew’s point of contact. He’d pictured her as something of a dragon given how high powered her job was and the kind of people she had to deal with on a day-to-day-basis. Oh well, he’d faced a firing squad, so he should have no trouble with a glorified secretary.

Drew sat in one of the armchairs and took another look around. The butler headed past the staircase to disappear through one of the two doors beyond.

Apart from the little knot of furniture where he sat, and the rose rug, the hall was austere with no other furniture or artwork of any kind. The walls were half-panelled and papered with champagne-coloured silk brocade wallpaper. The heavy velvet curtains and upholstery were on the same colour spectrum but richer and darker.

Growing quickly bored, Drew picked up a magazine from the low coffee table, wincing at the sharp, acrid smell of the pages, and glanced at the cover. He was unsurprised to find himself looking into the round, blue eyes of Julianna Rossetti-Graice, multi-Oscar-winning actress, wife of super action hero Henley Graice, and mother of the twins. She really was a stunning beauty, with a delicate yet strong look that said; “I’m sweet and vulnerable but cross me and I’ll knife you in your sleep.” Drew chuckled at the notion and flicked through the magazine to the story that went with the picture.

By and large, the story was about Julianna’s decision to move back to Europe from America where the entire family had lived for the past ten years. Both boys had made their bases in London, although they frequently travelled all over the world. It was rare for the family to be in the same place at the same time these days.

Henley was often away on location, especially as he was currently in the middle of a series of action-adventure films set in the desert, and Julianna had decided to move back to Paris to be close to her family. There were rumours she was expecting her third child, although they were currently unconfirmed. In fact, the entire family were constantly encased within a web of unconfirmed rumour, that kept them trending and thrust far out into the spotlight.

Turning a page, Drew discovered a centrefold pull-out of a gorgeous family photograph, taken in front of the biggest fireplace Drew had ever seen. If the family had taken a step back, they could have stood in the grate and still not banged their heads on the mantle.

Henley and Julianna, or Henlianna as they’d been dubbed by the popular press, beamed from either side, each with their arm around one of their sons. Drew had no idea which was which and he wouldn’t have been surprised if their parents were uncertain themselves. On paper, there was no way of distinguishing between the two. Even though Drew had been studying photographs of Aria for days, taken in different situations, from different angles, he wouldn’t have put money on correctly identifying him.

Both boys were dressed in pristine white suits, similar to their father’s but with powder blue shirts rather than Henley’s deep plum. Julianna, in a flowing, white dress, wore a hat with plum and blue roses on the brim. Whilst they all appeared relaxed and happy, there were giveaways, if you knew where to look, that there was some tension going on behind the cameras. Henley, in particular appeared up-tight and uncomfortable. On the other hand, Drew found it hard to believe that the perfectly poised Frenchwoman and her equally elegant offspring would ever look uncomfortable in any situation.

The opening of a door startled Drew, and he dropped the magazine and rose as the clatter of heels announced the entrance of an elegant woman in a smart business suit. Her auburn hair was swept up in a neat chignon and a teal scarf tied loosely around her neck made her brilliant blue eyes pop. She wasn’t a beautiful woman, but she was striking and her smile was wide and natural.

“Mr Chance, how lovely to meet you.”

The woman held out her hand and Drew took it, to find she had a firm, no-nonsense grip.

“I’m Alicia Montgomery,” she said, sinking gracefully onto a chair and motioning for Drew to do the same. “I’m the Graice’s personal assistant and co-ordinator. As you can imagine, with everyone off doing such different things, it can be hard to keep tabs on each other and they’re a close family, so they like to know who’s doing what and when, so to speak. While they are in London, my prime responsibility will be to the boys. They have tight schedules, but I expect a certain amount of disruption.”

“Disruption?”

“You will discover that, given the chance, the boys have a tendency to view things such as rules, appointments and responsibilities as optional rather than required. Amara, in particular doesn’t like being told what to do and seems unable to make it through an entire day without challenging something. There will undoubtedly be last minute plan changes, but we can only work with what we have. I’ll give you a weekly schedule at the beginning of each week, but we’ll meet every morning to discuss arrangements for that day. Even so there are likely to be changes “on the hoof”. Are you comfortable with that?

“Comfortable? No. As you can imagine, coming from a military background, such loose organization is anathema. Do you have any idea how dangerous it could be if no one is clear on precisely what’s happening and what’s supposed to happen? How can I plan to keep Aria safe if I have no idea where he’s going to be or what he’s going to be doing at any given time, even when I’m with him?”

“That, Mr Chance, is why your company is being paid a rather exorbitant sum to send you here to do your job.”

Miss Montgomery’s smile softened, presumably at Drew’s scowl. “Don’t get me wrong, Aria and Amara can be spoiled brats, who wouldn’t be from their background, but they’re basically good boys and let’s not forget they are the ones who are paying our wages.”

“They are? Surely their parents—”

“The boys have an agreement with their parents that they be entirely responsible for their own staff and security. Their mother has a tendency to be somewhat over protective and can be stifling. They are independent boys and like to think they’re in control. What they don’t know, of course, is that she still has her own force working in the background so never fear, Mr Chance, as chaotic as the organization might seem, there is a far better-oiled wheel turning in the background.”

White hot anger flared through Drew and had he been any less well trained he would have been on his feet yelling in her face. How dare they.

“I see. So, I really am to be nothing more than a babysitter to a spoiled, privileged, brat.”

Miss Montgomery’s smile turned icy. “I think you’ll find you’re much more than that, Mr Chance. As I told you, the twins are basically good boys and they have busy lives. They work hard and play hard. The need for security is a real and pressing one, but the need to allow the boys some freedom to believe they can be somewhere close to normal is also important. Make no mistake, you will need to be on high alert and there have been incidents in the past that have required swift action. This is not a soft job, but it is a sensitive one, so if you don’t think you’re up to it I’d rather you let me know now before you meet your charge.”

“I’m up to it, don’t worry about that. I just don’t take too kindly to being deceived. I thought I was coming here to do real security, not just to look pretty while someone else does the serious work.”

“That’s something I suggest you take up with your employers, Mr Chance. Our brief was clear, and all the details were in the file we sent.”

Not by the time it got to me they weren’t. He burned with the knowledge he’d been played by his own bosses. They knew him well enough to know he’d never have taken the job if he’d had all the facts.

“Mr Chance.” Miss Montgomery’s sharp voice brought him down from atop a whirlwind of righteous anger. He fought the urge to snap at her, recognizing this wasn’t her fault. Still, she was here, and they weren’t.

“I think we need to be perfectly clear, Mr Chance, although Mrs Graice organizes security on a far wider scale, none of the security guards will be anywhere near as close to Aria as you will. You are his first defence. Yes, you were chosen for a certain look and yes, the big picture is out of your hands, but you have an unique opportunity to get close to these boys and share their world. Trust me, they’ll let you if you give them a chance.”

“What makes you think I’d want to.”

Miss Montgomery sighed and shook her head. She produced a sheaf of papers from the messenger bag, she’d been carrying and laid them on the table.

“Please don’t be complacent, Mr Chance. In the past year, there have been two serious kidnap attempts, an attempt to throw acid in Aria’s face, numerous death threats and a group of religious nuts who have taken to following both boys around and causing trouble everywhere they go. The security sweep of the venue where Amara will be performing tonight turned up a number of small incendiary devices which were not meant for mass murder but might have seriously injured or even killed Amara or members of his band. As you can see, this is not a soft assignment.”

Drew sat back and pondered. Maybe he had been a little hasty. “Tell me more about the death threats and the bombs.”

Miss Montgomery slid the papers across the desk. It’s all in there.”

“Why wasn’t it on the file?”

Miss Montgomery tapped her lips and regarded him thoughtfully for a while. Drew waited patiently.

“Some of the attempted attacks have been a little too close to home, and there have been other instances when things have gone missing, or people have got closer than they should have been able to. As much as it pains me to admit it, I’m growing more and more certain that someone close to the boys is behind all this. I have no idea who it might be because all our team is hand-picked and have been on board for years. As far as I know no one has any cause to hold a grudge against the boys or have anything to gain from hurting them.”

Drew leaned forward his interest piqued. “Do you think this is linked to the kidnapping?”

She shook her head. “Unlikely. The attempts were very different, one slick and professional, the other botched from start to finish. In both cases, the guilty parties were apprehended and there was no link.”

Drew nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. Show me around.”

“I’ll leave that to Mr Marshall, he’s Amara’s security guard. He’ll be here this afternoon and I’m sure he’ll be of far more use than I will. What I will do, is take you up to meet the boys and get you settled into your room.”

“My room?”

“For as long as you are attached to Aria, you will have a room here, close to his, as does Mr Marshall. Don’t worry, you’re not expected to live in but trust me, you will need alone time. There will also be some occasions, when Aria is out very late that you might want to stay over, and others when you might be required to.”

Drew nodded, it made sense but was more than he’d expected.

“Very well, here is the schedule for today.” She handed him a single sheet of paper bearing a colour coded schedule with accompanying notes. “It’s a quiet day. Unless there is another engagement, Aria spends every afternoon in his studio recording his you tube videos. Sometimes he takes the camera out-and-about but all his makeup and fashion videos are shot here in the studio. After recording, he works out in the attic. If he has no evening engagements he generally stays in his own room unless Amara is around when they create havoc in the living room. He has no daytime appointments today, but he’s going out tonight. He’ll be attending Amara’s concert and then the party afterwards. If I were you, I’d go home this afternoon while Aria is recording and get some sleep, and not plan to being home again until tomorrow evening. The boys have a lot of energy, especially Amara after a concert. They’ll be bouncing around all night and you’ll be lucky if you’re home before six.”

Drew sighed. He was no stranger to being on duty for twenty-four hours straight, or more. However, he wasn’t looking forward either to a stadium full of screaming teens, or a party full of… whatever kind of people rock star parties attracted.

“Understood,” he said.

“Good.” She got to her feet and brushed down her skirt. “In future, we’ll meet in the office, which is that door.” She pointed to the door she’d come out of. Unless you’re out with Aria, please be there at nine every morning. I’ll let you off when you have all-nighters, but otherwise I expect strict punctuality. I don’t have time to work around anyone else.”

Drew nodded. That, he understood.

“Alright, let’s meet the boys.”

Drew wondered if she was aware how her whole being lit up when she spoke of the boys. He wondered if her interest was more than simply professional. Although, he’d not seen a single sign of anything untoward as there surely would be if she was having a relationship with one – or both? – of the soon-to-be- eighteen-year-olds. Something to keep his eye on though.

Miss Montgomery led him across the entrance hall, her heels clacking on the cold marble. She skirted the rug and Drew wondered if she liked the sound. The spiral staircase was shallow and wide, opening directly into the living room. At one end, floor-to-ceiling windows were thrown open and long, sheer curtains billowed out over the balcony, bringing back the scent of lavender. To the right of the window, an enormous television dominated the wall, while on the other side a marble fireplace, of more normal proportions than the one in the photograph, was filled with blue flowers. The colours were picked up in accents here-and-there; cushions, wall prints, lamps and flowers, but the predominant colours were various shades of grey and white. It was minimalist to the point that without the splashes of colour it would have been stark, and it was filled with lines and edges. There was nothing soft here, apart from the cushions.

Four doors led off the room and Miss Montgomery pointed to each in turn. “Bathroom, kitchen, dining room, bar.”

“An actual bar?”

“Complete with juke box and dance floor. Small but perfectly formed. They throw the best parties, don’t you know.”

“Let me guess, the boys designed this house.”

“From top to bottom.” She grinned and winked at him, which shocked him somewhat.

Leaving him at the top of the stairs, she headed to the left of the stairs, away from the open window, where another set of stairs led up to the next floor. “Boys,” she called. Can you come down a minute? Mr Chance is here and would like to meet you.”

Without waiting for a response, she walked back to Drew.

“Would they have heard you?” A door closed above.

“They’ll have been waiting, probably at the top of the stairs.”

“You know them well.”

“I’ve been with them since they were eight.”

That tone again, the light in her eyes and voice. Drew realized there was nothing sexual in her affection at all. It was purely maternal.

He didn’t have opportunity to ask any more questions because they were interrupted by the soft pad of bare feet on the wooden stairs.