Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Fuck.
Jane.
Not in that order. Not in that fucking way.
It’s not my job to think about her in any setting outside of client-bodyguard relations.
It’s not my job to think about what she’d taste like if I spread her legs. I have pictured it, and I’ll do a hundred deadlifts as punishment for even thinking about her pussy.
Unprofessional.
Un-fucking -professional.
It’s not my job to feel a fucking thing other than duty. Responsibility. Devotion—workplace devotion.
Not even as intrigue lights up her eyes.
I stay rigid.
“Before you worked in security,” Jane says, “did you always gravitate towards button-downs?”
I thought she was about to say, did you always gravitate towards me?
That wouldn’t make sense. I met Jane when I first became a bodyguard at twenty-two. She never knew me before security.
This is an easy question to answer. “Button-downs, no.” I pull my arms out of the sleeves. “Before this job, I only wore them for formal events like mass, weddings, and funerals.” I pass Jane my black shirt, and I take her beer, our hands brushing for a second too long.
Her neck tightens with a shallower breath, and she speaks quickly. “But security has no uniforms, except for some events. Correct?” She fits her arm through one hole.
I nod firmly. “The Tri-Force encourages bodyguards to dress professionally.” For the families.
Jane pulls one more arm through. Stretched-out sleeves are baggy on her limbs, and my shirt hangs to her thighs. She clears her throat. “So…how are we making this right?”
We?
“Me,” I correct. “I fucked this, not you.”
She tilts her head like I’m revealing more of myself. Something beneath the hard exterior.
I try not to wear my guilt. That’s for me to bear. “First,” I say. “You should be able to speak openly with me. If you want to know how I feel about Farrow or the whole situation or anything about me, I’ll tell you. I’m going to give you more transparency.”
She deserves that.
“Starting when?” she wonders.
“Now.”
A brighter smile pulls her freckled cheeks. “You’re opening Pandora’s box by giving me free reign to all questions, you know?”
I nod.
I’m not even close to afraid. But that lack of fear almost stokes fear . Because I must want Jane to know more about me. Under the circumstances and the rules of being her bodyguard, being too personal is wrong and feels fucking impossible.
Jane wraps her arms up in my shirt, and she puts her nose to the collar and breathes in.
I stiffen. Don’t think about her like that.
She notices that I just noticed her sniffing my button-down. “Um…you smell wonderfully.”
My dick strains against my slacks. I’m a brick wall. “Thank you.”
Jane reaches for her beer that I’d been holding, and she lands on a question. “How do you feel about Farrow rejoining security? Are you upset?”
I shake my head, almost instantly. “I’ve always wanted him to be on the team. I voted for him to stay last December.”
Back when I was a lead and the team found out Farrow had been sleeping with his client, Akara and I voted for him to keep his job. We were two votes out of three in the Tri-Force, and majority wins.
“I remember. I thought…perhaps your feelings had changed since then, and now you wished you’d voted for him to be fired.”
“No, I stand by my decision.” I notice how she’s straining her neck to keep eye contact with me. “You can look away if it’s hurting your neck.”
Jane smooths her lips together. “Um…” She blinks for a long second. “I’m quite fine…”
I can’t discern much else in the dark, but I’m trying.
“Is there a second?” she asks me.
I frown. “What?”
Jane holds my gaze. “You said, ‘first, you should be able to speak openly…’ I wondered if you wanted to make things right some other way too.”
She’s perceptive. Especially when her whole attention is on you. It’s like you’re the center of the fucking universe.
Like now.
I’m undeservingly the focal point in her blue irises.
“Second,” I tell her, “I want to make an oath with you.”
Surprise catches her breath. “What kind of oath?” Her lips start to inch upward.
What I’ve learned about the Cobalt Empire: the family of nine loves pacts, oaths, soul-binding agreements that put loyalty and trust to the test.
“I want to make you an unbreakable promise,” I tell her. “Do you do blood oaths?”
“Oh no, no blood.” She smiles. “These days, we Cobalts shake on spit.”
I would’ve even shaken on blood. Good to go. “I’m going to start unless you don’t want me to.”
She waves me forward, her face more cheerful towards me than I’ve seen in months. “I’m all ears.”
I’ve never declared something like this to a woman, and it’s the closest I’ve come to feeling like I need to drop to a fucking knee.
I grip her glittering eyes. “I’ll never break your trust again,” I promise, “and if I ever hurt Farrow or Maximoff, I’ll quit security.”