4

It simply wasn’t enough to keep my penthouse, to continue to eat all my meals out of the house, to go wherever I wanted on vacation, to buy whatever clothes I desired.

Maybe that made me spoiled, but if my father wanted to point fingers on whose fault that was, he’d have to direct that finger toward himself. I was a product of the childhood he’d provided. I got everything I wanted. I went on luxurious vacations with him and my mom.

Then, of course, after my mom died, leaving me all alone save for my wretched nanny, since he was always at work, he overcompensated for his absence with monetary things.

If he didn’t like who I’d become, the blame was squarely on his shoulders.

And yet, I was forced to deal with these invasive bodyguards.

Not to sound like a complete twat, but some of them were fucking creeps. It didn’t matter that some of them were old enough tobemy father, I’d caught several of them peeping in on me when I changed or when I was in the shower.

Even the ones I thought were decent guys ended up doing something that pissed me off or made me uncomfortable enough to become such a monster that they had no choice but to quit.

The last one, a guy I’d caught taking pictures of me when I had a face and hair mask on in the privacy of my own damn home, had been run out of the penthouse thanks to extended and relentless sleep deprivation. I waited until he passed out, then woke his ass up with some loud noise or another.

Three days was all it took to send him packing after that. Not before telling me exactly what he thought of myspoiled,bratty, andselfishbehavior, though.

There hadn’t been a single ‘good guy’ in the bunch so far, so I was under no delusions about this one.

All that handsome probably let him get away with shit that the other, less attractive, men who’d been pushed into my life couldn’t.

I had my eye on him, that was all I could say.

He would do something shady as hell eventually.

They all did.

Then I’d have to figure out how to run him out.

Something about the way he carried himself, though, made me think he wouldn’t be as easy as the rest.

I reached for the door at the coffee shop, only to see his arm shoot out over my head, grabbing it instead, and pulling it open for me.

Good manners didn’t mean he was a good guy, I reminded myself as I moved inside without so much as aThank you.

As I waited in line, I caught him in my periphery. Not behind me, expecting me to pay for his coffee like most of the others would, even though I knew they all had their own expense cards, but standing over near the door.

His dark eyes scanned the room. Almost like he was looking for threats.

What was this guy, ex-military?

Did he expect someone to shoot up the place?

Or, maybe, to rush in and kidnap me for ransom?

I mean, that wasn’t that far-fetched, actually.

Once, while on vacation abroad, there had been a near-miss incident meant to extort my father.

I’d been twelve and shoved into a car as I walked past the open door.

Luckily for me, and unluckily for them, I was smart enough to just… scoot across the backseat and exit the other side door then scream bloody murder.

Last I heard, they were still serving time for attempted kidnapping and extortion once they found a letter in their car.

You didn’t fuck with my father’s lawyers.

They nailed those guys to the wall.

That said, there hadn’t been any issues like that since.

It was a lot easier to kidnap a beanpole twelve-year-old than it was a grown-ass woman.

I grabbed my caramel iced coffee, and my whipped cream cup for Hugh, and made my way back out onto the street.

As we stood there waiting for Hugh to finish eating his treat, my gaze slid to the bodyguard.

“You should have gotten a coffee,” I said, taking a long sip of mine. “It’s going to be a late night,” I informed him.

His gaze slid down me, then back up, eyes full of a million judgments.

“I’m sure it will be.”

That was it.

Most of the other bodyguards at least, you know, acted like human beings. Engaged me in conversation on occasion. Some even tried to kiss my ass, to be on my good side. Hoping that, I don’t know, my father would give them a bonus because I liked them.

This guy didn’t seem to give a shit what I thought of him.

Despite myself, I liked that about him.

I picked up and tossed Hugh’s cup, then picked up Hugh himself, and turned in the direction of home.

I needed to finish my coffee, down some electrolytes, recover a little bit from the night before, then go through the exhaustive routine of getting myself ready for another night on the town.

“Miss Channing!” the doorman, Henry, greeted me with his grandfatherly warmth. I mean, at least, I imagined it was grandfatherly. My own grandfather had been a cold, detached, judgmental asshole. “Someone left these for you,” he said, holding out a small bouquet of pink roses with a note attached.

My dove.

That was what was on the front of the envelope.

My stomach plummeted as my heart lodged up in my throat.

Twice in one day.

And this time, at my damn home.

It wasn’t like I thought I had even the illusion of privacy. I was a public figure. You could literally look up my address online.

That was why I lived in a manned building.

At least no one was getting in without permission.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t leave me gifts, though.

“Thanks, Henry,” I said, forcing a smile that ached, it was so fake as I took the flowers.

I could feel the bodyguard’s gaze on me as we climbed in the elevator together, then as we exited on the top floor.

I didn’t even go into my apartment to get rid of the flowers.

I tossed them right in the damn garbage chute.

Again, I could feel his gaze on me.

But he said nothing.

Maybe this one wouldn’t be that frustrating after all.

I couldn’t believe just how wrong I would turn out to be on that, though.