Mister Bodyguard (The Morgan Brothers Book 4)

by Lauren Rowe

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask.

  “To grab a cab at the front of the hotel. We had a limo scheduled to pick us up at the back of the arena, but, obviously, that plan got shot to hell.”

  “Where will we go in the cab?” I ask flirtatiously.

  “To our hotel,” he says matter-of-factly. “Where I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

  Adrenaline floods me. I feel the uncontrollable urge to kiss him. “Put me down for a sec.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  Zander stops. He looks around and then puts me down, as requested. And, immediately, I pull on his shirt and guide him down to my lips... and, in short order, we’re kissing passionately.

  Cheers and catcalls rise up around us, egging us on. I’ve never kissed Zander in public before, and knowing this kiss will wind up all over the internet is exciting to me.

  “Woohoo!” someone shouts to my right. “Did Zander just propose, Aloha?”

  “Show us the ring!” someone else shouts.

  “Congratulations!” another person yells.

  I giggle into Zander’s lips.

  “I’m on duty, baby,” he whispers. “We gotta stop now.”

  We break apart, and as we do, someone shouts, “When’s the wedding?” And it’s only then that we realize we’ve been kissing the hell out of each other smack in front of a high-end jewelry store inside the MGM Grand. Specifically, in front of a glass display of diamond engagement rings. How did I not notice this store when I told Zander to put me down?

  Zander’s eyes ignite. “Give the people what they want, right?”

  I look at him quizzically.

  “Let’s do it,” he says, his eyes ablaze. “Let’s get married, Aloha.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s get married in Las Vegas.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.

  “Don’t speak. Only listen.” He grabs my hands. He’s trembling. “I love you and always will. My heart is yours and will be forever. I know you can’t promise me forever in return, and that’s okay. Because I know in my heart you love me right now, the same way I love you. Don’t speak!”

  I clamp my lips together again.

  “This past month has been heaven, hasn’t it? Well, it could be like that forever. I know it could.” He beams a heart-stopping smile at me. “Cannonball into the pool with me, Aloha. Be my wife. We’re gonna be glued at the hip the rest of the tour, anyway, right? Neither of us is going anywhere for another month. So, be my wife. If you wake up in New York and decide it was the worst mistake of your life, then, fine, annul it. Divorce me. Whatever. I won’t fight you. And I don’t want a dime of your money. Just marry me tonight and be my wife for the next month, at the very least. Give me this gift, please. Give me the one thing you’ve never given to anybody else in the entire world. Be all mine legally and under God and let me be yours.”

  My mind is reeling. My heart is exploding. “Don’t we need a marriage license to do this?”

  Zander’s eyes burst into flames. “Is that a yes?” Without waiting for my reply, he gets down on one knee, looks up at me, smiling, and says, “Aloha Carmichael, my love, will you marry me? I love you, Aloha. Please leap with me. Cannonball into the pool. Say yes.”

  I take a deep breath and then say the unthinkable: “Yes!”

  Zander whoops, springs up, and twirls me around. When he puts me back down, we kiss like crazy, much to the glee of everyone standing around us, all of whom are holding up their phones.

  Still laughing, Zander pulls out his phone and taps out a search with shaking hands. “Okay,” he says. “We do need a marriage license to do it legally, but it says we can easily get one from the Marriage License Bureau in a matter of minutes.” He looks up from his phone, grinning from ear to ear. “They’re open until midnight and there’s a quickie wedding place right across the street. Holy fuck, it’s like God himself wants us to do this, Aloha!”

  Excitement surges inside me. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been as excited as I am in this moment. “Well,” I say, “we can’t very well disappoint God, can we? Let’s go!”

  Chapter 47

  Aloha

  Zander and I burst into the Marriage License Bureau, still laughing from our giddy cab ride. There are several couples waiting in the small, sterile room, and the moment Zander and I walk in, the place erupts. Phones come out. Catcalls and cheers abound. A security guard who was milling in front when we waltzed into the building positions himself outside the door, apparently deciding nobody else will be coming into the Bureau until Zander and I have completed our business. I blow him a kiss and he winks.

  When we reach the counter, Zander lays his large palms down and smiles gleefully at the flabbergasted clerk behind it. “Hello there, ma’am,” he booms. “My fiancée and I are here for a marriage license!”

  “Because we’re getting married,” I add. “Like, legally.”

  Zander and I giggle at the shocking statement.

  Oh, God, I feel drunk, even though I’m perfectly sober. I feel alive.

  “Congratulations,” the clerk says. “Fill out this form. And I’ll need to see a photo ID from each of you.”

  Without hesitation, Zander pulls out his wallet and slides his ID across the counter, but I’m a deer in headlights.

  “I don’t have my ID with me,” I whisper to the clerk, my throat tightening. “I came straight here from performing at the Billboard Music Awards. Literally, I came offstage, still in costume, and came here.” I gesture to my sparkling corset.

  The woman looks behind her before leaning forward and whispering, “I’ll check the box on the form that says I verified your ID.” She winks. “You’re just about the only person in the world I’d break the rules for, Aloha. But my daughter grew up watching your show and she’s one of your biggest Aloha-nators now.”

  We thank her profusely, fill out the brief form, and then head to a row of nearby chairs to await our license, which the clerk assures us will be in our hands in under fifteen minutes.

  Just as we’re taking our seats, a woman approaches, her phone in hand, asking for a selfie.

  But Zander politely shuts her down. “Sorry,” he says. “I’ve banned selfies for my fiancée for the rest of the night. Just for tonight, she isn’t the world’s. She’s mine.”

  The woman visibly swoons and says she understands. “I saw what you did tonight,” she says to Zander. “It was amazing.” She addresses me. “If my man did that for me, I’d marry him, too.”

  When the woman walks away, Zander holds up a pen and a blank piece of paper he apparently grabbed off the counter. “Time to write our prenup.”

  “Our prenup?”

  But he’s already scribbling away.

  I, Zander Jarvis Shaw, of sound mind and body, want to marry Aloha Leilani Carmichael because I love her and she loves me. If our marriage ends, which I hope and pray never happens, I will leave the marriage with whatever was mine when it started, plus whatever I’ve earned or acquired on my own during the marriage. Nothing else. I don’t want a penny from her, ever.

  Zander looks up. “Good?”

  I’m speechless. Vibrating. Surging with adrenaline. Shit just got real.

  “Anything you want me to add or change?” Zander asks. And I can hear his heart beating from here.

  If that man thinks he sneaked in “and she loves me” without me noticing, he’s mistaken. But I have no desire to make him delete it. No desire, at all. “Looks good,” I say, and Zander’s face ignites like a thousand stars. “But add that we’re both entitled to keep any gifts, past or future. No matter what, I want to keep my beloved guitar and sparkly green journal.” I hold up my hand to display the simple band on my finger, bought for me by Zander mere minutes ago at that jewelry store in the MGM Grand. “And, of course, this beautiful ring.”

  Zander had wanted to buy me a
different ring. Something with diamonds he obviously couldn’t afford. But I refused. The man wouldn’t let me chip in on the purchase, after all, and I wasn’t about to let him go into debt buying a ring for a marriage we both know isn’t going to last more than a month.

  Zander sighs. “I wish I could have afforded a ring with a big, fat diamond on it.”

  “Bite your tongue, fiancé. I love this pretty ring and if you say one more word about wishing I had a different one, I’m calling the whole marriage off.”

  Zander comically clamps his lips together and zips his mouth, making me chuckle.

  I tap on the paper. “Add the thing about the gifts. And make it a two-way street.”

  Exhaling with annoyance, Zander dutifully writes:

  Both Zander and Aloha agree they’ll keep whatever gifts they might give each other, whether before or after the marriage. And, thank God for Aloha, that includes any snazzy macaroni necklace Zander might make for her at some point during the marriage.

  “This isn’t a joke, Zander,” I say. “Add ‘No matter how big or small the gift might be.’”

  “Aloha, no. All that does it make it so you can give me something and that defeats the whole purpose of this thing. This isn’t for my protection. It’s for yours. The only thing I want is to make it clear to you and the entire world I don’t want a damned thing from you, ever. I only want you.”

  “But I want to give you gifts.”

  “I don’t want gifts.”

  “You’ve given me gifts.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How? You’re allowed to shower me with gifts and I’m not allowed to do the same for my Shaggy Swaggy Hubby Bubby?”

  “Correct.”

  “That’s not fair. Giving gifts feels good, Zander. It’s fun. You’d want to deny me pleasure and fun? How rude.” I tap on the paper again and insist. Because just this fast, my mind is already teeming with gift ideas—a sick new car, obviously. A closet full of designer clothes and shoes. Oh, and some big-ass diamond studs for his ears—rocks twice the size of the ones he’s wearing now. No, three times the size! Yes! And then, whenever everything turns to shit for us—whether that happens in a month or two—or, shit, in a week?—I’m sure I’ll want to give Zander a big ol’ chunk of change as a parting gift. A million bucks is what I’m thinking at the moment. And I don’t want my lawyers to say boo about any of it when the time comes.

  Zander grumbles. Clearly, he’s not enjoying this conversation in the slightest. But come on, Zander’s the one who brought up the prenup in the first place. If we’re going to do it, let’s do it right.

  At my insistence, Zander finally adds the thing about gifts, big or small, and we sign and date our nifty prenup. That task completed, Zander takes a photo of it and texts the photo to me, since I don’t have my phone with me. And then he puts down his phone, takes my face into his large palms, and says, “I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

  I’m vaguely aware people are staring, but I don’t care. Let them stare. I smile into Zander’s beautiful face and say, “I can’t wait to call you my husband.” And, to my surprise, I mean it. I can’t wait.

  Elation floods Zander’s gorgeous face. He leans in and kisses me and I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him passionately in return, eliciting cheers and catcalls from our small audience.

  “Zander and Aloha?” the clerk calls out from behind the counter. “Your license is ready.”

  We break away from our kiss and bound to the counter, our hands clasped and goofy smiles plastered on our faces.

  “Hey, would you mind if I texted Keane and Maddy to meet us across the street at the wedding place?” Zander says. “I need my best man.”

  “Of course,” I say. “Hopefully, Maddy will agree to be my maid of honor.”

  Our license in hand and the text to Keane sent, we bound toward the front door like we’re walking on a cloud.

  “My mother is gonna kill me,” Zander says, chuckling.

  “Mine, too,” I say, giggling with him. “I wish so badly I could see the look on her face when she hears the news.”

  Zander indicates the people around us in the waiting room. “I’m guessing it won’t take long for either of our moms to hear about this.”

  We reach the front door and the security guard warns us a bit of a crowd has gathered out there.

  “Shit,” Zander says. “I’ll text Brett to meet us across the street at the wedding place, too. I’ll tell him to station himself outside. Something tells me we’re gonna need a little help getting into a cab after we say ‘I do.’”

  Chapter 48

  Zander

  Swirling lights. The crush of writhing bodies packed onto the dance floor. All around us, people, people, people, including some of the ones I love the most, are partying and dancing and letting loose.

  The song blaring is “Cheap Thrill” by Sia, and Aloha and I are singing the lyrics at the tops of our lungs. We’re living this song! Because I might have no money, motherfucker, but I got myself a wife! I still can’t believe it. Aloha Carmichael is my wife. She’s all mine, mine, mine. Can anyone else in the history of the world say that? Nope. Just me. Ka-bam, son!

  I’m drunk. But the good kind. And so is my hot wife. And, yeah, we’re practically fucking on the dance floor at this point. But, hey, we don’t give a shit who sees us making out, even though we’re at this huge party with all these people, lots of them highly famous, because... have I mentioned this yet? Aloha Carmichael is my wife.

  Brett is officially on-duty tonight, watching out for Aloha from afar in this nightclub, since I’m clearly three sheets to the wind... and... also... It’s my wedding night, motherfuckers! But, come on, Brett’s not even needed at this party. It’s filled with celebrities and VIPs only—and the front door of the nightclub is being guarded like Fort Knox.

  Suddenly, even through my drunken, happy, horny stupor, I feel a sharp squeeze to my shoulder. No, not a squeeze, a Dr. Spock death grip. I whirl around, ready to punch out whoever’s touching me, and...

  Oh, shit.

  It’s Barry. Looking at me like he’s about to body-slam me into the nearest wall.

  Barry motions sharply, nonverbally telling me he wants Aloha and me to follow him off the dance floor right fucking now.

  I look at Aloha and she bursts out laughing. So I laugh, too. Barry wants to fire me for marrying Aloha? Or maybe for whatever video he saw of me kissing her out in public? Well, fuck him. I’m Aloha’s husband now. Pretty sure that trumps father figure, motherfucker. And it certainly trumps boss. Yeah, Barry can fire my ass but there’s no getting rid of me now.

  Before following Barry, I glance at Keane and Maddy dancing next to us, and shoot Keane a look like, “I’m busted!” And he bursts out laughing, the same as Aloha a moment ago. Keane flips the bird to Barry’s broad back and I laugh and laugh and high-five Keaney as I take Aloha’s hand and begin leading her through the dense crowd.

  Quickly, I realize this crowd is probably too packed for Aloha’s comfort level, so I turn to her, touch my nose twice, and then crouch down and offer her my back. Immediately, she hops aboard. Because she’s my pretty hula wife and I’m her valiant steed husband. And it’s us against the world, fuckers! Or, I guess, in this moment, it’s us against Barry. Ha! Well, fuck him. There’s nothing he can do about me now. Aloha said “I do” and so did I and it was legal and real and tomorrow we’re going to buy side-by-side plots at a cemetery like other married couples do. Well, maybe not the plots. I don’t know. That would probably be weird. But the concept remains: she’s my wife!

  As we make it to the edge of the packed dance floor, the song changes to “Counting Stars” by One Republic. And I whoop. I couldn’t have requested a better song for this moment. This night. This life. It’s like God is my DJ tonight. Thanks, God.

  People are patting me on the shoulder and giving me and Aloha high-fives as we pass. People I’ve never met, but I’m more than happy to give them a high-five
on my wedding night as I follow Big Barry to God knows where to tell him to fuck off.

  We pass by Reed and our crew—Josh, Kat, Ryan, Tessa, Henn and Hannah. They’re hanging out with that movie star who introduced Aloha at the awards show tonight. And they all look drunk as shit, just like me. As I walk by with Aloha on my back and Barry at my front, my peeps cheer wildly and high-five me and Aloha. Because they know, as well as I do, that Barry can’t do shit to me now.

  We’re off the dance floor now. Following Barry into a hallway and around a corner. We walk through a door into a small office.

  Fuck you, Barry, I think as he shuts the door behind us. You want to fire Aloha’s husband? Well, fuck you, motherfucker. You don’t like that I married Aloha, you can suck my big black dick.

  Chapter 49

  Zander

  The small office is sleek and tidy.

  “Counting Stars” is blaring on the other side of the door.

  “We have a prenup!” I blurt as Barry locks the door behind the three of us. “I don’t want a penny of her money. I just want her.”

  Aloha leaps in front of me, like she’s protecting me from an oncoming locomotive. “You can’t fire him!” she shouts, her arms splayed out parallel to the ground. “I’m the boss here and I say Zander stays!” She leans her back against me, reaches around behind her and grabs me. “Even if you fire him, I’ll just rehire him, Barry! And if you say, ‘Ha! I’m in charge of bodyguards, Aloha!’ Then I’ll hire him as my personal trainer! So... ha!”

  “You’re drunk,” Barry says calmly. “Did you start drinking before or after you exchanged legal wedding vows with this man, Aloha?”

  “‘This man’ is my husband, Barry. My legal spouse. My old man. Please give him the respect he deserves.”