Again he slammed his closed fists into her stomach, using her body to dislodge the food that was keeping her from breathing. Again, and again, and again, until she vomited all over the pristine, white linen tablecloth.
Alex coughed and sputtered, sucking in great gulps of air. Her head swam, adrenaline rushing through her bloodstream. Her heart pounded in her chest. She needed to sit down. Looking to the chair that she had been sitting in before, she didn’t think that she would make it over there, be able to pick it up, and sit herself down into it before blacking out completely, so she just leaned against the wall and slid until her ass was on the carpet. She knew that she couldn’t fall from here.
She looked up into the dark, brooding eyes of her savior, Rick, as he stood over her, using a yellow linen napkin to wipe her puke from where it covered one of his forearms. He did not look pleased.
“Alex,” said her father, kneeling down next to her on the dining room floor, “are you all right?”
“Yeah,” she said, coughing and wiping vomit from her chin with the back of her hand. “I’m okay.” A little woozy and a lot embarrassed, but she would survive. Her father reached for her hands, lifting her from the floor and putting his arm around her for support.
“Let’s get you to your room,” he said, walking her through the house to her old room, still ready for her to return as soon as she should need it, as always.
Alex stood at the vanity, cool water dripping from her eyelashes into the porcelain sink. Still unsteady on her feet, she rested her palms on the tile countertop, leaning heavily upon them. She needed to brush her teeth; she could taste the bile left in her mouth after throwing up all over the table. What in the hell effect did this man have over her, making her vomit twice in less than twenty-four hours? Not exactly the impression that she wanted to leave on a ridiculously attractive man. Ugh.
Spitting a great gob of toothpaste into the sink, Alex rinsed her mouth and brushed her hair. She stepped into her childhood bedroom, crossing to the closet that she knew held clothes for her. Her mother would pick things out for her each week when she went shopping with her friends, and put them in here for Alex to wear if she needed to. Many of the items still had tags on them, tucked away here, never again to see the light of day. Flicking through the hangers, grimacing at some of the choices that her mother had offered her, Alex plucked a soft, pink sundress from the mix, pulling off the t-shirt and shorts that she had been wearing, and slipped it over her head.
She turned, taking stock of her appearance in the full-length mirror against the far wall. Good, she didn’t look like she was hungover and crazy anymore. Wait, she thought, why was she trying to impress this guy? He was being hired to keep an eye on her, to make her father feel better about sending her out into the big, scary world all alone. Because he was ridiculously good-looking, and it had been ages since she'd been with a man, she thought. She blew out a frustrated breath, pulling open the door to her room, heading back down the hall toward the dining room.
Voices drifted toward her from the east side of the house, where the patio doors were thrown open to the afternoon sun. The men were seated at a table that had been hastily set by the staff, an emergency measure to avoid eating the rest of their lunch in the room where she had so ungraciously barfed all over everything.
“I think that carrying a weapon would definitely be warranted,” Alex heard her father saying as she stepped through the French doors, “should the occasion arise where it was needed…”
“Weapons?” exclaimed Alex, interrupting her father. “Just because of some gifts?”
“Ah,” he said, setting down the glass that he had been holding. “Alex. I see that you’re feeling better.”
“I’m okay,” she said, seating herself in an empty chair, near her father and far from Rick, whose irritated glare from the other side of the table spoke volumes.
“We were just going over the specifics of Mr. Andrews’ contract,” her father said, gesturing toward Rick.
Alex looked up, locking eyes with Rick across the table. Should she tell him that she and “Mr. Andrews” were previously acquainted? That she had gone out drinking and dancing last night, to a part of town that her father would never be seen dead, or alive, in, and had thrown herself at this man? That she had made a fool of herself, losing control and throwing up on him not once, but twice?
Her father had faith that she was a powerful woman, who could and would accomplish anything that she set her heart to, but he worried more than he let on, she knew that. She didn’t need to tell him about last night; it would do nothing but make him worry more. He might pick her up from this chair, haul her back to her old bedroom with the pink lace bedspread and matching curtains, and chain her to the headboard, in an effort to keep her safe from herself. Ugh.
She smiled sweetly at her father. “You guys get it all worked out?”
“I think we have everything covered,” her father said, visibly relieved that she was cooperating peacefully with the whole thing.
“So tell me,” she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, “how does one live their life, while having a bodyguard?”
Chapter 9
She slammed the car into fourth gear, forcing it to go faster, flying along the country road leading away from the family estate. Fuck this! She was so angry, so frustrated already, that she was breathing fire. Not only was she to have this guy follow her around all day, keeping tabs on her, but her father expected her to share her apartment with him! He said it was to keep her safe, day and night, but she felt as though he had ripped all freedom from her with those few words.
How was she supposed to do anything, with this fucking guy around all the time?
She pressed down on the accelerator, pressing the button to lower the window, relishing in the feeling of her long, red hair whipping around her like flames. She was pissed.
And, he was right behind her, following her home, hugging each curve in the road as he fought to keep up with her. She was easily doing double the speed limit, her rage chewing up the miles between her father’s home and hers.
Chapter 10
“Do you always drive like a lunatic?” Rick said, sliding from his black town car, parked directly behind her in the lot underneath her apartment.
“What if I do?” she said, arms crossed over her chest again. “Are you going to go and tattle to my father?”
“Is that what you think I’m here for?” he asked. “As a babysitter for you?”
“Aren’t you?” she asked, her tone mocking.
“I’m here because your father is worried,” he said. Blowing out a breath of irritation, “After the ‘gifts’ that you received, it is obvious that you are getting some attention that, in my opinion, you do not deserve.”
“Fuck you,” she said, turning to walk toward the stairwell.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out, putting his hand on her shoulder and spinning her to face him. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but your father has hired me to make sure that you’re okay. I could definitely use the money, and for this kind of cash, I would deal with just about anything. Maybe this whole thing is nothing, and you’ll be out of my hair before I know it. But until then, I’m sticking to you like glue, whether you like it or not.”
“Great,” she said, heading back toward the stairwell, her babysitter tagging along at her heels.
Chapter 11
Rick stood in front of the mirror, staring himself in the eyes, attempting to resolve himself to the situation. What had he done to deserve this? To be stuck here, with her, for the foreseeable future? Fuck, it was going to drive him insane. She had turned out to be such a bitch, not what he had expected. He thought, little rich girl, pampered.
She was beautiful, yes, she had that going for her, but her attitude sucked. Last night she had been throwing herself at him, and now that he was in her house, she wanted him as far away as she could get him.
He had checked the apartment when
they had arrived, opening closets and cupboards, checking each window to make sure that it was secure. There was only the one lock on the door. He would need to go to the hardware store at some point, get her something more substantial. Her apartment had a second bedroom, thank god, since her father had insisted that he stay with her, day and night. At least he was willing to pay round the clock, so Rick had agreed. Alex had showed him the room when they walked in, scooping up an armload of stuff off of an armchair that was the only furniture in the miniscule room that was to be his home for the next few weeks at least. He’d have to run back to his apartment, get the cot that he had tucked away for those camping trips that he kept promising himself as a reward for not going postal and killing everyone in this damned city.
Reaching out, he flicked the tip of his index finger against the nose of a tiny, pink dog on the counter near the sink, and its head began to waggle frantically on the spring in its neck. Rick chuckled, dismayed that he had found himself here. Ugh.
When he entered the main living area of the house, he paused. Alex was seated on the floor in front of the sofa in the living room, her legs folded up beneath her, a laptop propped on the coffee table less than a foot from her face. Her expression was filled with concentration and determination as she flicked her finger against the mouse, making notes in a small journal with the other hand. She had taken off the sundress, changing into yoga pants and a t-shirt, pulling her hair up in a ponytail. She still looked fantastic, Rick thought. Too bad she was such a pain in the ass.
“Working?” he asked, leaning against the counter.
“Listen,” she said, huffing with frustration, “I can’t stop everything and banter with you. I am a very busy woman. I have a lot of shit to do.”
“Okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just wondered if you plan on staying here for a while.”
“What,” she said, her mouth crooking into a teasing smile, “you got a hot date?”
“No,” he said. “I have to go get some stuff, but I can’t do that if you need me.”
“I don’t need you,” she said, looking back to her monitor.
“Give me your keys,” he said, walking toward her.
“Why?” she asked, “Afraid I’m going to run off while you’re not here to watch me?”
“Well,” he said, “now that you mention it, yes. I was just going to take your house key and make a copy of it.”
“So you can come and go as you please?” she said, incredulous.
“Maybe so I can get in in a hurry if I need to?” Everything was a battle with her; this woman was going to drive him crazy.
She plucked her key ring off the table, chucking it across the room to him. He caught it in one hand, without missing a beat, and headed for the door.
“Hey,” she cried, “I thought you were just going to take my house key!”
“Changed my mind,” he said, pulling the door shut behind him. He slid the key into the lock, pleased with himself as he turned the key, trapping her inside. Of course she could just unlock the door and step out, but without her keys, she’d be leaving all of the fancy and expensive photography equipment for anybody to just walk in and grab. He didn’t think that was something that she was likely to do, even to spite him.
Chapter 12
What an asshole, Alex thought, turning back to her screen. She knew that he was probably trying to get a rise out of her, stealing her keys, but she had too much to do here to care. Going to her father’s party last night, then all of the rest of the craziness that had happened last night, mixed with the mandatory lunch meeting at her father’s, had effectively put her behind schedule on this project.
The pictures that she had taken at the boardwalk yesterday were not awesome. As she expected, the models looked bored, irritated that she had pulled them away from their afternoon television shows to come and try to look interesting out in the sun while she snapped some pictures. She flipped through them, disgusted, searching for something usable in the whole pile of garbage.
Pieces, that’s all she could come up with, small fractions of each photo that she actually enjoyed, that gave her the visceral reaction that she was looking for. This woman’s lips, the sun reflecting off the beads of sweat on her upper lip, the curve of this waist, darker where the shadow of an arm fell, this block of sidewalk, the bricks radiating heat lines in the blaring afternoon sun. She had an idea.
Dragging her mouse across the screen, she tore the digital image to shreds, picking out only the bits that she enjoyed. She smiled, reaching for a can of soda resting on the table, and taking a large gulp. She belched loudly, laughing triumphantly, and dug in for a long evening of work.
…
Once outside, Rick turned to look up at the windows of her apartment. He wondered if she ever pulled the curtains, or if she wanted to put on a show for the world. It irritated him, how she didn't take these things into account, thinking that nothing in the world could touch her. That someone could be following her, his eyes on her every move, fixated on her, didn't even occur to her until it was brought to her attention. And even then, she didn't see the danger in it, didn't see how a little thing such as a handful of pictures was only a taste of the fantasy that someone could have built around her.
Rick ran his hands through his hair, blowing out a frustrated breath as he headed to his car. He knew how this could end up, if he didn't do everything just right. He needed to get a handle on this, before it got out of hand.
...
She hadn’t moved since he’d been back. Rick tested the key in the deadbolt that he had just installed on the door, glad to see that both of the copies that he had had made at the hardware store slid smoothly and soundlessly into the lock, and that the mechanism turned with only the slightest whisper of a click. He looked over at her, still in the same position, the only thing having changed in the last few hours being the pile of pop cans that gradually accumulated around her on the floor of the living room. He wondered how someone could maintain her figure and still down sugar like a teenager.
He stepped into the living room, pausing before heading toward the room that was to be his. He glanced over the back of the couch, catching a peek at the screen of her computer. Stopping in his tracks, he stared in awe at what she was creating. It was beautiful, stunning. A jumble of images, pieces of images really, scattered across a backdrop of pure sunlight. A woman’s figure could be made out, a shadow of a hip, the curve of a trimmed waist, a sparkle of one perfect eye. She had taken the images of several beautiful women and created an image of pure beauty, without a tangible figure to be seen, only pieces.
“That’s amazing,” he said, leaning over the back of the couch, moving himself closer for a better look.
“Hey,” Alex said, turning on him, “I am trying to work! Go do whatever you need to do, and leave me to it, will you?”
He blew out a frustrated breath; this woman couldn’t even take a compliment. He headed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He wished he could leave her alone; she was a pain in the ass. How was he going to deal with her? He sighed, sitting down on his cot, pulling his phone from his pocket, scrolling through the pictures again. He had to be here, he didn’t have a choice. He was not in control here, not yet.
…
He sat still as stone, his eyes burning, tearing up from being held open for so long. His legs folded beneath him, he reached out a trembling finger, brushing it along the curve of her jaw, smiling to himself. She was so beautiful, so perfect. Images of her blanketed every surface of his room, her sparkling eyes looking down on him from the walls and ceiling, comforting him as he attempted to sleep. He fantasized that she was here with him, in this bed, his arms wrapped around her body, holding her close to him. He would whisper sweet nothings in her ear, words of endearment, caring, and love. He would kiss her softly on the side of her face, cradling her in his strong arms as they both drifted off into a contented sleep.
He flopped onto his back, the need to be
with her so strong. She was so close, he felt that he could practically reach out and touch her if he wanted. Throwing his hands up over his eyes, he ground his palms into his eye sockets until his vision went white from the pressure. Crying out with frustration, he stood up, pacing the room, the need to move too strong.
He had to go to her. Had to have her. Had to take her.
No, not yet. It wasn't time yet. He needed to calm himself, needed to wait.
He sat back down on the bed, his foot hammering against the floor boards. He looked to her face, hundreds of her face, everywhere that he turned, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
Chapter 13
The sun was streaming through the filmy bedroom curtains when Alex opened her eyes. She groaned. Having been up late last night working, her body was heavy as she rolled over in the bed, pulling the pillow over her face to block out the horrid light. Fighting to regain the dream she had been having, something about a gorgeous man with arms the size of tree trunks, she closed her eyes and tried to will herself back to sleep. Her bladder was having none of it, screaming its urge to get the hell out of bed and get around to starting her day, its tasks to be taken care of first.
She crawled out from under the covers, stomping in her bare feet out into the living room, headed for the toilet. Instinctually, she sat down, relieving herself, still half asleep, her eyes closed. Something was niggling at her subconscious, something important that she was supposed to remember. Something had changed.
Alex opened her eyes and noticed the back of a man’s black t-shirt in her kitchen, standing in front of the sink, and she screamed.
Rick spun around, ripping his gun from the holster on his waist, holding it at arm’s length, ready to rescue his charge from her attacker. He quickly scanned the room, seeing nothing, and turned his eyes to where he had heard her scream. She stood in the bathroom, frantically attempting to pull her panties up over her knees while still maintaining some sense of decency. Her hair was disheveled, hanging in a giant snarl down her back, and the thin white tank top that she wore didn’t do the job of covering her breasts. He could see right through it.
The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 1 Page 5