Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
I grit down, pained like someone ripped out a rib. I comb my hands through my hair, and Maximoff stands up.
I stand not a millisecond after. “Where are you going?” I ask tensely.
“I don’t know,” he mutters, and then shakes his head like he’s trying to catch his bearings.
“We need to talk,” I say, but he can’t hear me over the sudden switch in songs, a hardcore rock anthem blasting. He’s already leaving the VIP area.
I follow. Step-for-step beside him, and a stool instantly opens at the crowded bar. Maximoff smiles at a short brunette in a sequined mini-dress. “You can sit!” he tells her. “Don’t get up for me!”
I restrain an eye roll.
She giggles.
He flags down the bartender and orders drinks.
For his safety, I have no other choice but to do my job. I stand behind him like an intimidating authority, someone that says don’t fuck with him. Since he wants to be approached tonight, I shouldn’t be scowling this hard.
I’m out of the way, but in the way. Unseen, but seen. All of those oxymorons are killing me tonight.
She gasps and says, “No way!” a thousand times.
Moffy leans down, cups his hand by her ear, and whispers for a full two minutes. Her eyes glow like she hit a jackpot, and she nods repeatedly.
I can only imagine that he’s telling her he wants to fuck her. In a subtler way but still blunt. Upfront. Sex only.
I spit my gum into my wrapper, my jaw aching. I pocket the thing, and then the girl hops off the barstool and heads for the bathroom.
Maximoff stays by the bar, and since this is my first time being his bodyguard while he’s trying to get ass, I’m somewhat in the dark. It’s not like he listed this in his rules.
He faces me. “We need to talk!” He has one-hundred percent padlocked his feelings. I glare, his face so impassive, so inexpressive—you’d think he’s channeling Connor Cobalt. His uncle who can will away emotion whenever he likes.
I hate it.
I step towards him and whisper in the pit of his ear. “Are we discussing your flirting techniques?” I unwrap a new piece of gum while he struggles to hide his feelings.
Let it out, wolf scout.
He gestures to me. “I assume you’re asking for advice.”
I smile and pop gum in my mouth. “That’s funny, I assumed you wanted advice from me.”
“You should look up the word joke because I don’t think you know the definition of funny.”
I whistle. “You’re just on a fucking roll today, aren’t you?” He can’t answer. A server swoops in with his earlier drink order. Club soda for him and a cocktail for the girl. She sets the cocktail on the bar, and I grab the club soda off the tray.
I pause before I put my lips to the rim. “You’ve never taken a sip of alcohol,” I say to Moffy, “which means you don’t know what it tastes like.”
He stares at me, blank faced. “Is there a question in there or are you just Nancy Drew-ing shit out loud?”
“I’m more of a Hardy Boy, but nice try.” Our eyes lock, more headily, all the while I put my lips to the glass and sip.
Sharp alcohol bites my tongue. “It’s spiked with vodka.” I look for the server.
“Just let it go. It’s not a big deal.” When he sees me searching for a server, he adds, “Farrow, it’s fine.”
He refuses to complain, but he can send back a spiked drink. And if the act makes him feel like an asshole, I’ll fucking do it for him.
Maximoff tells me, “Declan would just drop it.”
“I’m not Declan,” I remind him for the forty-fourth time this week. I catch a server’s attention. “I need a bottled water, sealed.” I give her a fifty-dollar bill.
“Right away.” She darts behind the bar, scoots beside the bartender, and then tosses me a bottled water. When I turn around to Maximoff, he looks stunned.
He licks his lips, emotion raising his carriage.
“Take it.” I pass the water.
He holds the bottled water like he’s never seen Evian before.
“It’s just water.”
Maximoff is frozen still. “You didn’t have to do that.” He means get him the water.
“Okay, but I did.” It’s not the first time he’s been like this after I helped him. I step closer. “Don’t you see, Maximoff? There’s a cement wall in front of you, and you’ve just been told to be satisfied with staring at it.” He listens intently. “And so you just stand there, not able to see the other side.” The wall is paparazzi.
The wall is the people who spike his drink.
The wall is hecklers and his lack of privacy.
Screw it all.
“What’s the alternative?” he combats. “Me hating my life?”
“No!” I shout as chatter escalates around us. “It’s my job to help you over the wall! Declan may’ve told you to accept the shit in your life, but I’m going to give you what you’ve never been given!”