Page 44 of Hide and Keep

My bodyguard just shakes his head.

“I’m taking you all the way back to your room, where you’re going to spend the rest of the night.”

More wheeze-like laughter ensues.

“I’ll just do the same thing all over again,” I admit.

“Then we’ll dothisall over again.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Fucking drained.”

“When are you planning on sleeping?”

“In three years. After you graduate.”

“I told you,” I groan. “I’m. Not. Graduating. You’re better off letting me leave now. At least you’ll get a full night’s sleep.”

“That’s not what I was hired for.”

“My father doesn’t have to know I sneak out.”

“LikeItoldyou, you’re sloppy. Your father already knows.”

How does he know?

The hickeys. I guess Icould’vebeen more inconspicuous.

“The second you walk through the front door, you’ll set the alarm off and wake up the whole house. Once the alarm’s been activated, my bedroom window’s the only way in or out.” After Hide and Keep, I paid a girl to disengage the sensor so I could open and close it without affecting the manor’s security system. “And I’m not going back in,” I add sweetly because he can get fucked if he thinks I’m climbing back up there right now.

“Then you’ll sit in my car until someone gets up. You’re not leaving the property.”

Crue pushes himself up in one smooth motion, but I don’t move a muscle. If he wants to carry me anywhere, he’ll be doing it without my help.

He does exactly that—carries me to his Bronco while I lie limp in his arms, making myself complete dead weight. He basically drops me in his passenger seat in a boneless heap before slamming the door shut.

Professional.

Sitting up, I admire Crue’s side profile as he rounds the front end. In another life, he might be here for an entirely different reason. He might be here because he likes me. He’d pick me up to take me somewhere or climb up to my room so we could spend the night together.

Past Crue, movement on the second floor catches my eye, and I swear I see my curtain flutter, but then I strain my eyes, and everything’s as it should be—completely still.

“The paint job came out nice,” I chirp once Crue’s seated next to me.

Sometime in the last several hours he must’ve removed the tape on his hood. Because he waited so long, the flames did turn out a bit shoddy, but they were never supposed to look good. They were meant to humiliate, enrage, spark any emotion that’d get Crue to overreact and either quit or get himself fired. Sadly, neither happened.

All of today’s plans have failed.

Crue only mutters an equally insincere, “Thanks,” as he pulls out his phone and opens it to a screen full of text.

I have to admit, it’s hot that Crue isn’t intimidated by the uber-feminine flames. A lot of men would be.

“What are you reading?”

He turns his phone away from me when I lean over to sneak a peek.

“The Babysitter’s Guide to Taming Unruly Children,” he deadpans.

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