Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“My hell is your fun,” I realize.
“Wow.” Farrow grins. “When you put it that way, I love it more.”
I give him two middle fingers, but his hand slides around my waist. We draw closer. His chest against my chest, my bicep instinctively curves around his shoulders. We’re almost eye-level, almost exactly the same height.
In the past thirty minutes, I’ve thought about every small moment.
The private hours I spend with Farrow. Every drive in Philly. Nights where we’re alone in my bedroom. The morning wakeup calls where we whisper about stupid ordinary shit.
It’ll all change slightly, and he may like change—but I don’t know what our relationship looks like when we start moving pieces. And I’d be lying if I said the unknown didn’t scare me a bit.
Farrow breathes, “We’re going to be…” His voice trails off, his fingers touching his earpiece. “Those fuckers.”
We detach, and before I ask, he tells me, “SFO knew about the tour before I did. Come on.” He heads into the hall with his bowl of eggs.
I follow him, my stride lengthier than his. Easily, I catch up to his side.
We’re step-for-step.
He’s not running. He’s not alarmed. Farrow eats and walks, looking more unconcerned than concerned, and his tattooed fingers comb through his hair.
“You’re still in hot water with SFO?” I question.
“I’m always in hot water.” Farrow eats a spoonful. “It’s where I do my best work.” The sexiest smile inches up his mouth.
Fuck me.
We turn a corner, and as soon as I open the door to the study, I spot three bodyguards. Lounging on dark leather furniture. Ceiling-high bookshelves landscape the forest-green walls.
Their heads automatically swing in our direction.
And Thatcher, Oscar, and Donnelly are only looking at me. Appraising me like I’ve intruded into an exclusive Bodyguards Only Club and I’m not allowed inside.
3
MAXIMOFF HALE
By now, you know that the security team is both strangely elusive to me and close like family. Thanks to Farrow, I see glimpses of how security works and how they actually perceive us: the Hales, Cobalts, and Meadows.
Since I’m a celebrity and a client, I probably would’ve excused myself and let them work out whatever they need to alone. But they’re now aware that I’m Farrow’s boyfriend, and these aren’t just his coworkers.
They’re the closest guys in his life. His friends. And if he’s all-in on my world, I think I should be all-in on his.
So I’m staying.
I approach Thatcher Moretti. “When’d you get here?” I ask.
In my peripheral, Farrow nears Donnelly on the couch and lightly kicks his ankle, both speaking under their breaths. Donnelly gestures with his head at me. So they’re talking about me.
If only I had bionic hearing.
Thatcher stands, five inches taller than me. “I drove in about four hours ago.”
We shake hands. I’m sure to most people a six-foot-seven, unshaven Italian-American man with a perpetually stern gaze would be intimidating.
For me, he’s not even close.
Thatcher used to protect my little brother, and talking to him in the past, the topics never diverged from security. He’s as professional as they come and also the biggest thorn in Farrow’s side.
Now he’s a secondary bodyguard to Jane and unofficial chaperone to me and Farrow. A small price to pay to keep Farrow as my 24/7 bodyguard. If the public finds out that I’m dating a bodyguard, it could cause all of SFO to become famous by association.
That can’t happen, and Thatcher said he’d ensure it doesn’t.
“Thanks for voting to keep Farrow as my bodyguard,” I tell Thatcher. “It meant a lot.”
He nods. “I was voting for what you’d want. Personal grievances aside, I’m here for you and your family.”
It reminds me that he wasn’t the only vote. “Where’s Akara?”
“Out for a run with Sulli.” Thatcher twists a knob on his radio. “Last night, Akara and I agreed we’re going to share the lead position in Omega. If you need to inform security about anything, it’s still Akara, Price, and me you should contact.”
The Tri-Force is still intact then.
I bet it’s all the same to Farrow since he’s not a rule-follower anyway.
“Hey, Moffy—” Donnelly is cut off by Farrow’s hand over his mouth.
“Excuse Donnelly,” Farrow says to me, really at ease. He sits on the armrest of the couch. And his bowl of eggs skillfully balances on his thigh. “He has an undiagnosed condition called verbo-emesis.”
My brows furrow.
Oscar swigs a Lightning Bolt! and translates, “Word vomit.”
Huh.
I have no clue what “Hey, Moffy” was about to morph into, but with the surface of my childhood nickname, I’m unfortunately more aware of my age difference between all of them and me.
“Security should only call me Maximoff,” I state here and now.
Farrow lowers his hand from Donnelly’s mouth, and some of the bodyguards exchange furtive glances. And Farrow tries to restrain an amused laugh, but as he looks to me, his eyes almost caress mine in affection.