Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
It was nice to feel safe. It was even nicer to feel Landon’s muscles brushing against mine. Once again, I reminded myself that I wasn’t gay. And, once again, my body laughed at me and called me a liar. There was no denying it, I was lusting after my new bodyguard—the one that hated me and was already trying to ditch me. What did they call this? Gay for you. Yeah, I’d heard that before and thought it was total bullshit. Well, the way I was snuggled against him and sniffing his cologne told me the GFY theory might not be total bullshit.
The second we were on the elevator, he pushed me away from him.
I deflated.
He ignored me.
I hated being ignored.
When the elevator doors opened for us to exit on my floor, he was back in full bodyguard mode. He carefully checked the hallway and then pulled me against him as walked the short trek to my suite. The tenseness in his body told me he was ready to pounce at the first sign of danger. It kinda made me want to run so he would have to tackle me to the floor. That could be fun. Before I had time, though, we were standing outside my door. I started to reach for my key, sad that the night was over before we could resolve the whole ‘was he staying or going’ thing, but then he swiped his phone in front of my lock, and I heard a beep indicating the door had unlocked.
“Impressive,” I murmured. His only response was a disgusted snort.
He pushed me inside the room and then a shiver of excitement rolled over me because he followed me inside. I glanced around and noticed two very important things. First, and most importantly, his luggage sat next to the door. Well, I hoped it was luggage. It certainly wasn’t my Louis Vuitton set. Second, and somewhat irritating, I noticed that my suite had been absolutely ripped apart. Clothes were strewn all around the room. Books and magazines tossed here and there. All my electronics were on the coffee table and had clearly been tampered with. Shit…was the imaginary stalker real? Had he been inside my room?
I turned to look at Landon and said, “It looks like it was a good thing I went to the party. Someone has been inside my room.” Trying the eyelash batting again, I added, “I could have been killed, Landon. Surely, you’ll agree to stay with me now. My life could be in danger.”
I hadn’t really been afraid before. Now, I was. Someone really had broken into my room. I really could have been attacked, even abducted, like they’d threatened.
“I did this,” Landon answered with a growl. “While I was trying to find you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Clean it up. Now.”
My mouth gaped open. Hell, it might have even hit the floor. He wanted me to clean up the mess he’d made? In what world was that okay? He was insane—a bully and insane.
“What are you waiting on, Jinx?” he growled again. “I told you to clean it up. It’s late and neither of us gets to sleep until this is taken care of. I don’t know or care about whether you’re tired or not. I am. Put your shit away so we can call it a night.”
“You made the mess; you clean it up,” I argued. “And don’t call me Jinx. My name is Micah. Use it.”
“I made the mess because I was looking for you. If you’d been where you were supposed to be, where you promised you’d be, I wouldn’t have had to tear your room apart looking for clues to where bratty boy had disappeared to. So, clean it up.”
Hmmm…he might have a point with that argument. With a shrug, I said, “Fine. Have it your way. I should have been where I said I’d be.” I walked over to the bed, sat on the edge, and picked up the phone. I hated admitting when I was wrong, but he had me on this one. Before I could even push the housekeeping button, he jerked the phone out of my hand and slammed it back into the cradle.
“Who in the hell do you think you’re calling?”
I knew there had to be a shocked expression on my face. “Housekeeping. Duh.”
“It isn’t housekeeping’s problem that your room is a mess…it’s yours. You’re the one that needs to fix it, not them.”
The first thought that came to mind was ‘who the fuck do you think you are?’ The second was that this interaction was the most words we’d exchanged since meeting. I liked it. I wanted more of it. I didn’t know a damn thing about tidying up after myself, but how hard could it be? “Fine, Daddy! Have it your way; I’ll clean up your damn mess!”