Daniela’s life was, by nature, full steam ahead, all systems go, with never a minute to just sit down and relax. When she was relaxing, it was usually with a glass of wine in one hand and either Skye or Dawsey at her side. On her luckiest days, she found herself wedged between the two as the three of them swapped juicy gossip about their respective offices. Occasionally, she might bundle herself into her cosiest dungarees and join Mac on an earthy ramble through the woods. Those days were few and far between since Quentin had taken her under his wing, as per her mother’s request.
Daniela had been well into her 20s when she’d finally been afforded the freedom to live alone. She worshipped the ground her parents walked on and was endlessly proud of their achievements, but she’d never had the same luxuries that most teenagers did. She’d never been a reckless teenager going out and getting drunk, nor had she ever particularly wanted to be. She’d enjoyed working late into the night with her mother on campaign slogans and pulling together punchy statements to scrawl across banners and picket signs. Her weekends were spent going door-to-door canvassing, her mid-term breaks usually occupied with a string of protests that her parents had allowed her to accompany them on.
She’d grown up happy, educated, and more than content with the life she’d been given. The would never be a reality in which Daniela complained about her upbringing, but she’d also longed for the normal journey into adulthood. She wouldn’t give up the politics and protests for the world, but she wouldn’t have minded being a little more reckless. She’d have kissed more boys and suffered through more hangovers if she could have.
Of course, by the time she finally managed to make a home for herself, she’d been altogether displeased to learn that she’d be getting a permanent bodyguard. Admittedly, Daniela Lopez was no fool. She understood that her mother’s career placed a certain target on their backs, particularly given the colour of their skin. It was New York, after all, and Trumps America at that. The Lopez family hadn’t ever been foolish enough to believe that they were entirely safe, but Daniela had never thought she’d be subjected to her own personal security detail.
Quentin was quite alright, she supposed. He was scatty and had absolutely no interest in taking in a word that she said, but she knew he was only doing his job. It was impossible to get the slip on him, meaning her Wine Nights with the girls (featuring Dawsey) were often accompanied by an additional party of One, in all his semi-menacing glory. If he was ever around on her days over at Spectre, she would give him a very stern talking to upon insisting that he wait outside. The last thing she needed was for Quentin and Ravi to be nose-to-nose. She was a healthy young woman, but even her blood pressure had its limits.
She’d lost much of her freedom all those many months ago, and in the process had been subjected to the irritating whims of one Benjamin Kent. Had she met him under any other circumstances, she might have been foolish enough to find him charming. As it was, she hadn’t, and she didn’t. She could just about stomach him in small doses on her best days, so long as the two of them kept a polite and respectable distance.
So, of course, it was only natural that some absolute maniac had decided to plant a tracker in her apartment, no less than three days after her mother had increased her own security detail. It had taken Quentin no less than 38 seconds to find the device in her home, and a further 4 minutes and 52 seconds for her mother to decide, over facetime, that she should be moved to a safe house. The request had not gone down favourably with her as it was, and you can only imagine her surprise when she found out the full extent of Quentin’s dreadful plan.
Daniela Lopez was far from being a brat, but she’d certainly done her fair share of stomping her feet in the 24 hours that had followed. By the time she found herself standing firmly on Quentin’s doorstep, she thought she might wallop the older man with her luggage. Furthermore, when she stepped inside his apartment, it seemed everything she already so desperately loathed about this situation had just amplified tenfold as her gaze landed on none other than Benjamin Kent.
His usually golden locks spilled out around his face, his ringlets unkempt and spilling water droplets onto his – rather surprisingly broad – shoulders.
“Oh, holy shit, indeed,” Daniela lamented, echoing the sentiments of new young, hooded roommate.
She stared across at Benjamin, gaze travelling from his face down to his torso, before her eyes landed squarely on the dip of his hips, his (admittedly pale) v-lines leaving very little to the imagination. She swallowed back the rather unwelcome lump that was forming in her throat, absently noting that she suddenly felt incredibly parched. Perhaps Quentin would fetch her a glass of water, since he’d decided to ever so kindly uproot her life.
Tearing her gaze away from the rather flimsy towel that was preserving Benjamin’s modesty, she finally let her eyes meet his.
“If you must know, your uncle has decided to make my already tedious week altogether more difficult by kidnapping me,” she informed him.
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