Page 14 of Guarding the Billionaire

Angie:External shit doesn’t matter. It’s what’s inside that counts. And once you start the mating bond, you’ll understand.

I was up early the next morning, doing an abbreviated workout in my room before taking a quick shower. By the time I heard Flora’s alarm go off, I was ready for the day. I headed downstairs in search of coffee, messing around with the fancy coffee maker until I had an admittedly delicious cup of coffee. I drank it with a shot of blood and an energy bar I’d seen in the cabinet.

The clacking of high heeled shoes on the marble floors alerted me of Flora’s approach. That and the way my inner vampire perked up the second her shoes hit the stairs.

“Good morning,” Flora said, giving me a bright smile. The woman was consistently cheerful, I’d give her that.

She was wearing a dark red pencil skirt with a matching blazer, a black silk blouse, giant red earrings, and black pumps with red soles. Her hair was curled into soft waves, and she’d put on a liberal amount of makeup including a bunch of black shit that made her lashes spiky, and red lipstick that perfectly matched both her outfit and her earrings. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She couldn’t look more like a fussy, high maintenance femme princess.

“Is that what you’re wearing to the office?” she asked.

I looked down at my black tank top, black pants, and black boots, then returned my gaze to Flora.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“It’s not exactly office attire.”

“Yeah well it’s perfect if I need to tackle a guy who’s trying to kill you,” I said defensively.

The truth was I knew exactly nothing about clothes. I’d been raised by a single father in a family where I was the only girl amongst all the cousins. My best friend growing up was as much of a tomboy as I was. I’d joined the Army right after high school, and they didn’t exactly encourage you to wear girly shit there either.

“Come with me, I have an idea.”

She took a few steps towards the door and inclined her head.

“I’m not wearing a dress.”

“You don’t have to wear a dress,” she said. “Come on.”

She led me up a stairway on the other side of the house. I followed her into a massive bedroom with a walk-in closet that was larger than most people’s houses. After flipping through some clothes, Flora emerged with a light blue jacket.

“Try this.”

I looked at the blazer like it was toxic.

“Whose clothes are these?”

“My mom’s,” she answered, her voice sad for an instant before she brought forth her normal cheery tone. “She was flatter chested, like you.”

“I’m not flat chested,” I said indignantly, arching my back before I realized what I was doing. My breasts were on the smaller side, but that was no reason to insult me.

“My jackets won’t fit you, so you’ll have to make do with this.”

Sighing like she was torturing me, I pulled on the jacket over my tank top. Flora came close, arranging the collar, and I was overwhelmed by the subtle scent of her perfume. Or maybe it was her shampoo, I don’t know. Whatever it was, it had a slight floral scent.

“There,” she said brightly. “Now you can pass for a personal assistant. Plus the blue brings out your eyes.”

Taking my shoulders, she turned me so I could see myself in the full-length mirror. I had to admit that the tailored jacket fit me perfectly and dressed up my outfit nicely. Maybe I should wear more blazers, I thought.

I met Flora’s eyes in the mirror and froze. For a long, pregnant moment we just stared at each other in the glass, my heart pounding wildly. Inside me, my vamp was pushing me to tilt her head and bite her neck. I took a deep breath.

“We’d better get you some breakfast before we go.”

My mate blinked like she was coming out of a trance.

“I don’t eat breakfast,” Flora informed me.

“You do now.”

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