by Ruby Rowe
I’m sensing you want to play with fire as much as I do.
I moan with desire and envision Griffin’s long fingers touching me. I push mine far inside and move them in and out … in and out...
With my fingertips soaked, I rub my clit again, igniting a circular whirl of ecstasy as I long to bring a fantasy to life.
“Griffin,” I whisper, stroking my clit over and over until I’m gasping for air and curling my toes against the mattress. The sensations grip me and so do the images of my bodyguard’s defined jawline and smoldering blue eyes.
As I pant and come down from the heightened sensations, it’s as if I feel his sweaty body falling onto me and his breath blowing on my neck.
Fuck, I want him, but getting with me would be a novelty for him; a fling with his older celebrity client. God, does a ten-year age difference make me a cougar?
Griffin was humoring me tonight. I shake my head from being so naïve. I need his protection from Romeo, so I can’t run him off.
My fear of the delusional person stalking me causes a chill along my sultry skin. We have to find this monster before he physically finds me.
Griffin
“Griff, how are you?” my cousin Daniel asks as I climb off my bike at the Harley-Davidson in Glendale.
“Good. How the fuck are you?” I shoot him a grin for being all formal and shit. We hug briefly, slapping each other’s back, and I notice my black leather jacket is pulling tight in my arms.
I’ve been working out more frequently since Ava barely leaves the house, and I can tell it in my biceps.
“I’m good, and I really appreciate you helping me pick out a bike,” he says, pressing down the top of his dark hair.
I shrug. “I figured we hadn’t seen each other in a while, and I have the time. My new principal is sticking close to home these days.” As we stride toward the store entrance, I admire a few sharp motorcycles parked out front.
“Who’s your client?” Damn, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. I knew this would come up soon, but I was hoping not today.
We reach the door, so I swing it open to let him inside the showroom, hoping I can avoid answering his question.
“Cuz, look at all the shiny toys,” he says. I glance over at him, and he’s in awe like he just scored a bag of cash. I grip his shoulder and squeeze, happy that he’s distracted.
“If you get a hard-on from a bike, my ass is leaving.” As if he doesn’t hear a word I’m saying, he walks over to a Softail Slim and runs his hand along the leather seat.
“This one’s like yours, right?”
“Yep.”
“The guys are gonna shit themselves when I pull up on a new Harley.” He grimaces. “I’m sure they’ll all run out to get one. Although, they can’t afford as nice a bike as I can.”
His smile returns as he thinks about their envy, and it’s like I’ve taken a kid inside a toy store to purchase the latest game system that none of his little friends have had the opportunity to buy.
When he says guys, he’s referring to the soldiers on the Golino crew. My uncle Dominic is the boss of the Golino crime family, stepping up after my father, Gabriel, passed away two years ago from a heart defect. I was on a European tour with Velasquez at the time.
The disturbing memory of being estranged from him when he died resurfaces, so I put my focus back on the bike Daniel’s checking out.
“Point me to the most expensive one in this joint.”
I furrow my brow. “You don’t buy a bike based on the price tag. You pick the one that feels made for you. Since you don’t want the same motorcycle as me, try the Forty-Eight. I think you’ll like it.”
“How much is it?”
I shake my head. I swear he never listens.
“Just try it.”
“All right, but whatever bike I choose, I’m getting it customized.”
I fight shaking my head again.
“Whatever you say.”
Two damn hours later, I’m still in a chair as Daniel finalizes his custom creation.
“My ass is gonna need a massage after this. You’re burning up my entire day off, too,” I grumble as I shift in my seat next to his. We’re alone in an office after the guy helping us left to handle something with my cousin’s payment.
“Hey, you never answered me; who’s your new client?”
“She’s an actress.”
“Is she as famous as Mindy Velasquez? That chick is hot.”
“A hot fucking mess is what she is.” I clear my throat. “You know I’m not supposed to disclose the identity of my principal.”
“Oh, come on, cuz. If she’s in the public eye, I’m gonna find out soon enough.”
I sigh. “All right, but I’m only telling you because I know once you find out, I’m going to have to answer to Uncle Dominic, so I might as well get it over with. “I’m guarding Ava Lane.”
“Fuck.” Daniel looks me straight in the eyes. “Who did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“No, I couldn’t have heard you right because you would never guard Ava Leoni, a member of another family. Mind you, a family who moved in on our turf.”
Tapping my foot, I pop my neck and sigh.
“First, she’s not a member. Like me, she just happened to be born into that fucked-up situation. It’s not a big deal. I’m only doing my job.”
“Pop’s gonna flip.”
“He shouldn’t. My work has nothing to do with the business. A business I don’t have anything to do with. That was the agreement, remember? So, this shouldn’t matter to anyone in the Golino family.”
“It will since Pop hates Teddy. He wants him to go back to where he came from, New York.”
“Mr. Leoni’s not a threat. He’s retiring.”
Squinting, Daniel cocks his head. “So he claims, but how would you know this?”
“Look, out of respect for our family, I did my research.”
Even though this shouldn’t be an issue for my uncle, I know Daniel’s right, and it’s only a matter of time before I’ll have to report to Dominic Golino to explain myself.
“I can’t hide this from Pop.”
“I don’t care if you tell him. Like I said, it’s only my job. I’m a bodyguard protecting his principal.”
“Sounds fishy.”
Swiping my leather jacket from over the arm of the chair, I stand. “Are you calling me a liar?”
He holds his hands up in defense. “OK, ‘sounds fishy’ wasn’t the best choice of words. But, if you ask me, it’s awfully coincidental that you happen to get a gig with another boss’s daughter.”
“For the last time, the man’s retiring. I met Ms. Lane’s previous bodyguard at the gym, and he got me the job. Now, are you going to let this go, or do I need to leave because you don’t trust me?”
“Sit down. I’m only worried about what Pop will do to you.”
“I can handle myself fine, along with your old man.”
“Whatever you say.” He drops his hands, but his eyebrows are cinched together. He’s still suspicious. I see it in his brown eyes, and it pisses me off.
This is one of the reasons I’m estranged from my family. In their minds, betrayal equates to a death wish. There’s no forgiveness.
Of course, I was only born into the business. I didn’t choose it, and as soon as I graduated high school, I got away from the lifestyle by joining the Navy. I guess I should feel blessed he didn’t off me for it.
I should’ve never returned to this city. Over a decade later, it’s still bringing me nothing but trouble. Ava … she’s going to bring me trouble, too. I know it because I can’t stop thinking about her. Not for a minute.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ava
It’s Thursday afternoon, and I’m reading by the pool. Hearing footsteps, I look up, and the second I spot Oliver and Griffin, I sit up in my lounge chair.
“Oliver…” I look to Griffin, wondering why he’s accompanying my ex when it’s his day off. If anyon
e should be, it’s Kellen.
“Tell this asshole I’m allowed to be here,” Oliver says before he glares at Griffin.
“He’s not on your list,” Griffin snaps.
Crossing my arms, I lift my eyebrows and look at my ex.
“He’s right. I didn’t put you on the approved list since I have no desire to see or speak to you.”
He blows out a breath. “Ava,” he says, lowering his voice. “I need a word with you. Please, can we speak alone?”
“She said she doesn’t want to speak to you.”
“Stay out of this,” he barks back. “She doesn’t need guarding when she’s with me, and why don’t you put on a fucking shirt when you leave. Are you the pool boy, too?”
Griffin lunges for Oliver, so I jump between them right before he can grab his polo shirt.
“Both of you, stop it! Griffin, it’s fine. You can go.” He steps back but keeps his gaze firmly locked on Oliver’s. Griffin folds his hands into fists, the movement tightening muscles as far up as his defined pectorals. “I said to go. Oliver won’t hurt me, not physically, anyway.”
As if he returns from somewhere else, he blinks fast.
“Fine, but I won’t be far away.” He stomps off, and I’m overwhelmed with emotions. I’m not used to someone being this protective and cautious.
“Where’s Frank? This guy’s volatile, and I don’t want him around you.”
I cross my arms again. “My bodyguard is none of your business and neither is what I do in my life. Say what you came to say so it’s sooner you’re off my property.”
Sighing, he scratches his head. His golden-blond hair is shining in the sun, and I recall how I used to love to run my fingers through it.
Then, I remember how he cheated on me with a wannabe actress, some twenty-year-old model from Wisconsin, and the nostalgia vanishes. I know she leaked their affair to the press for attention, and I had to hear about it from paparazzi once the story broke.
That’s how I found out my boyfriend was cheating. When I think back on it, I guess the whore did me a favor. Oliver and I were never going to have a long run.
“Ava, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for my visit to start this way. Your guard pissed me off. He came out of nowhere, drilling me with questions as I got out of the Porsche. He acted like I was some deranged criminal. I don’t appreciate being treated like your stalker.”
“He’s new, so we haven’t worked out a system yet. He takes his job seriously, which you should appreciate when I do have a deranged person out to hurt me. That is if you still care.”
Oliver grabs my hands in his and holds them up between us.
“I do care. That’s why I’m here. Take me back. Forgive me, and I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll get married, and we can have kids. I know you have concerns about being too old to have them.”
As if he knows he said the wrong damn thing, his eyes widen. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t think you’re old by any means.”
“Right. That’s why you slept with a woman half our age. I’m not taking you back, and it’s not only because you cheated on me. I’ve since realized that I want more than you can give me. You’re dull. Or, at least, we were dull together.”
Drawing his head back, he arches a brow.
“How am I dull?”
“You play it safe. Besides attending shows and parties, where you mingle with others in the entertainment business, you don’t do anything exciting. Don’t you ever want to be adventurous?”
“By doing what?”
Lifting my sunglasses to the top of my head, I wave my hand in the air.
“I don’t know. How about going lobster diving or buying a motorcycle to ride?”
“I own a yacht.”
“Yes, a boat you don’t even steer. You hire people for that.”
“You know I have to be careful with my body since I’m a model.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t start with how your face is insured. You’re a model, not Jesus Christ.”
“Hey, that shit’s important. I was a contender for People Magazine’s ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ in 2015. I could still win that title, but not if I mess up this face.”
“Fuck, Oliver, get out. This is pointless.”
“Is there a problem here?” Griffin asks from the gate at the fence surrounding my pool.
“I swear, you men are impossible,” I utter. Dropping my shades over my eyes, I stomp barefoot toward the gate with Oliver following closely behind. Griffin stares him down the entire way, his testosterone the eye of the storm.
“Oliver is leaving, but I want a word with you,” I spout.
“Ava, I meant what I said. I’ll do anything you ask,” my ex pleads. “If you want me to buy a damn motorcycle, I will.”
Oh, my god, someone dig a hole and bury me in it. He did not just say that in front of Griffin. I feel the heat spread up my neck and face.
“Get out, and don’t come back.”
Shaking his head, he marches through the black iron gate Griffin is holding open for him. I rub my forehead and stare at the ground as we both stand in awkward silence. Realizing I’m wearing only my bikini, I stride back to my chair and put on my short teal cover-up.
“I need some water. Do you want anything?” I ask. His tan chest is still bare above athletic shorts and tennis shoes.
“No, thank you.” I walk inside through the French doors, giving Griffin no choice but to follow me. “What did you want to discuss?” he asks.
I’m over the bullshit, so I turn around on my toes.
“Do you really need to ask?”
“Yes, I do.”
I hold my finger up. “You don’t treat my guests like that ever again. I don’t care if Oliver is my ex and a cheating asshole, he’s still a guest.”
“A guest who isn’t on the list you gave me. When are you going to let me do my damn job?”
“Why did you even interfere? You’re off today.”
He looks away. “From my apartment, I can view the surveillance of the grounds. I saw a man entering the gate, so I was waiting for him when he parked.”
I cross my arms. “Micromanage much? Are you not confident in your supervision skills?”
Griffin comes right at me, stopping only inches away. He grips the back of his neck and growls.
“Why are you so against me keeping you safe?”
Tilting my eyes up at him, I stifle a whimper from the scent of cedar and sweat. His masculine aggression, which I typically find repulsive in a man, is a mating call I want to answer.
“I’m not against you keeping me safe. I’m against you violating my privacy. You had to have been listening to my conversation with Oliver since you were right at the gate and knew we were arguing.”
I motion toward his body that I want to reach out and touch. “You never put a shirt on, either.” I try not to stare, but I can’t help it since he’s fit as fuck, and it’s not fair that I can only look. I lift my gaze in time to see his mouth twitch.
“Why are you smiling?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“No.” His smile fades. “I know it’s soon, but like I told you before, you have to dive in and trust me. Bodyguards hear almost everything, but I’m not going to repeat it to a soul.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to know all my poor decisions and inadequacies.”
Griffin grasps my chin, and I inhale sharply. As we stare into each other’s eyes, I feel his breath on my mouth and almost taste his desire. I’m not imagining it. He’s too close, and his heart is beating loudly.
“You mean you don’t want me to know you’re human?”
Biting my lip, I watch him look at them, and I feel like we’re at the starting line of a race, fighting the urge to lunge before the whistle blows. I won’t take that first step.
“You’ll see my truths, but I’ll never know yours, and for some reason, that bothers me.”
Feeling vulnerable, I pull away from him and c
ontinue walking to the kitchen. I grab a bottled water from the fridge and face him again.
“Look, I don’t mind if you check on my guests, but don’t give them attitude.” After taking a long drink, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry I was a bitch. I do appreciate that you’re conscientious of my safety.”
Leaning back against the island, he crosses his arms and stares at me as I take another drink.
“I guess I’m not training my guys well enough since one let Mr. Harvey on the property without checking with you first, and I promise that won’t happen again.”
“Kellen’s working down there today, right? If so, he knows Oliver, and he probably tried to reach me through the intercom, but I was out by the pool. Please don’t give him a hard time about it.”
“Micromanage much?” he asks with a smile.
“Wow, two smiles today. I feel special.” His mouth moves to a straight line, so I look away. “I’ve barely seen you this week.”
“That’s because you haven’t left the house.”
“Well, I’m going out tomorrow night, back to the place in Hollywood, so I’m letting you know now that you can’t go inside with me.”
He huffs. “Fine. Are we finished here?”
“I also have another man visiting me Saturday at eleven o’clock, so don’t give him the shakedown. His name is Drake. Then, I have a dinner party that evening I need you to attend with me.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“OK, we’re finished.”
With his arms still crossed, he stares at me intently like he’s weighing whether to cross that starting line. After a few seconds, he exhales and pushes off the island.
“Have a good rest of your night, Ms. Lane.”
“You, too, Mr. Scott.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Griffin
Ms. Lane’s sitting at a black table, watching a scene at Dungeon Six. Her long leg is crossed over the other, allowing me a shot of her spiked black heels. The leather skirt shows off her smooth thighs, and a red top hugs her ample tits.
She’d lose it if she knew I was watching her. Ava was right yesterday when she said I’m violating her privacy. Being in here proves that, but I feel protective of her in a way that stretches beyond my job.