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
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
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