Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s relishing in this. “Constant?”
“Twenty-four/seven.” There’s an evil glint in his dark eyes that I suddenly want to knock out. “I’ll be shadowing your every move.”
I feign nonchalance and return my attention to my father, furiously ignoring the thrilling rush of desire that nearly veers me off course. “You will not invade my privacy,” I say calmly, retrieving my bag from the floor. “And no way are you telling me what to do.”
“I will not stand for this!” Dad shouts. I don’t even flinch. His patience is wearing thin. I don’t care. So is mine.
I have no idea what I expected when my father told me that he’d taken precautionary measures in light of the threat, but this creature wasn’t it. Maybe a driver, or a curfew. I could live with a curfew. Give me a curfew!
But him? I take a quick peek out the corner of my eye, seeing Sharp’s doing the same to me. I quickly look away. No, it’s not happening. To have him near twenty-four/seven? All of the men I’ve ever worked alongside have to work hard to portray intensity in a photograph. Sharp exudes it naturally. It’s beyond masculine. It’s almost too much to stand. And it’s…so fucking hot.
“I refuse to be shadowed by one of your minions.” I turn and walk away, hearing my phone chime in my bag, as well as an audible grunt of frustration from my father. Rooting through my huge bag as I continue on my way, I pull out my phone and see a message from Heather.
Sebastian is back in town.
My heart stops in my chest, and my feet skid to a halt by the door. I stare down at the message, hoping the words might shift and form another message. But after reading it for the fifth time, I’m still going over the same horrific words. This can’t be happening.
My ex is back? This is bad. So, so bad.
I’ve finally gotten back on my feet. It’s taken everything out of me to find myself again, and now he’s back in London and all of my stability that I fight daily to maintain is suddenly rickety. I damn the traitorous tears that pinch the back of my eyes and start to breathe deeply, but as I begin reasoning with myself, telling myself over and over that I’m stronger now than I’ve ever been before, something starts to seep into my mind.
I turn to confront my father as it all slots into place. He already knows that Sebastian Peters is back in town. Of course he knows. This bodyguard business is all just an elaborate plan to keep me away from Sebastian.
I laugh on the inside for his creativity, but his underhandedness isn’t such a surprise. Having me shadowed by a bodyguard, having that bodyguard reporting back to him, will certainly keep him abreast of my life—something that he strives to do daily.
I grit my teeth and fix my formidable father in place with a pissed-off glare. Has he no faith in me? Does he think I’ll run straight back into Seb’s arms and let him ram a gram of coke up my nose?
“You really don’t know me at all, do you?” I spit as I turn and leave.
Chapter 5
JAKE
My hand comes up and rubs my jaw as I watch her disappear out of her father’s office door, and one thing that springs to mind, surprising me, is that I didn’t see a brat. There were no signs of a self-indulgent, selfish female. What I saw, in fact, was a fiercely independent, bright young woman.
It’s not what I expected, and the revelation should be a relief, except my strumming heart, my racing mind…and my annoyingly aching cock are telling me not to get ahead of myself. My feet are suddenly moving of their own volition, taking me out of Logan’s office and in pursuit of his daughter. Protect her. It’s simple and it’s going to keep me busy for a while.
I’m on autopilot, my strides long and fast, as I make my way down the corridor toward the elevators. But then I catch a flash of Camille disappearing around a corner, and not in the direction of the elevators.
“The little fucking…” My legs are sprinting, powering after her, before my quick-thinking brain delivers the instruction.
Impulse.
Instinct.
Get to her.
I charge through the door to the stairwell, the heavy wood smacking the brickwork behind it and creating a deafening echo that bounces off the contained walls. I halt, fighting the urge to pull my gun.
She’s just doing a bunk, I reason with myself. That’s all. The last thing I need to do is scare her half to death with my Heckler. I force my breathing down a notch, listening, and I hear the light clicking of her heels.