Page 8 of The Brat and the Bodyguard

“Do you really need to ask?” I growl, my black brows raising. “After what just happened?”

“Okay, so today was a circus,” Ainsley acknowledges. “I fell at the fashion show, and you caught me, and then yes, this dress is a little much. But Justin wanted me to wear it, and you know he’s a rap superstar with his own line of clothing. Prowler sold two billion in revenue last year, so he knows what he’s doing when it comes to presentation.”

I raise a black brow.

“Well, your so-called boyfriend is crashing and burning, and taking you with him, sweetheart. After that WLM jacket today, I don’t think anyone’s going to buy his shit.”

Ainsley’s quiet for a moment, biting her lip.

“Yeah, Justin’s been having some issues with Adirite, who manufactures his stuff. They’ve expressed some discomfort with his antics,” she says in a stiff voice.

I shoot her a meaningful look.

“I think it’s more than antics at this point. That dude is spewing misogynistic, anti-Semitic rants, and you’re a pawn that he’s using.”

“No, I’mnot,” Ainsley bites out, her green gaze shooting sparks. “I’m my own woman.”

I shake my head.

“Well, your brother certainly doesn’t think so. News of Justin West’s rants are international news. His shit is covered in Europe and Patrick isn’t exactly happy to see his younger sister featured in the tabloids while simultaneously being branded as a misogynistic, anti-Semitic woman.”

“But I’mnotthose things!” Ainsley sputters. “I just happen to be standing next to Justin at red carpet events. It’s not me. It’shim.”

“Then it’s guilt by association,” I shrug. “Nothing in life is fair, but at the same time, you’re not exactly stopping him either. But I don’t think anyone expects you to stop him, sweetheart, because it’s clear that dude has serious mental health issues. What worries your brother is that you’re being controlled by Justin West. That fucker is a billionaire, and he’s used to manipulating people and situations. I’m sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but your boyfriend is manipulatingyou.”

“No, he’s not,” Ainsley hisses under her breath, her small fists clutching the edge of the table so hard that the knuckles are white. “Justin cares about me. Yes, his capers are a little off-beat and out there—”

“Alittle?” I ask sardonically. “That fucker had ‘White Lives Matter’ written on his jacket in rhinestones, sweetheart. It was practically visible from outer space.”

“Okay, a lot,” Ainsley concedes. “But it’s not me! It’s him, and I know how to take care of myself. You don’t need to follow me around like a fucking puppy dog—”

“Oh, I’m not a puppy dog, sweetheart,” I retort in a silky tone. “I’m a bodyguard. Don’t you get it? Your brother’s hired me to look out for you, and so I’m your new best friend.”

The blood drains from her lovely features.

“No,” Ainsley breathes.

“Yes,” I retort with a smirk on my face. “I’ll be in the room when you use the facilities. I’ll be in the room when you’re making sweet love with Justin. I’ll be watching as he pounds your butt, hammering your asshole from behind before turning you around and —”

“Youbeast!” Ainsley rages, jumping to her feet as her red hair comes loose from its coil. It’s a magnificent sight, the flaming tresses resembling a rippling curtain of red silk as she glares at me. “You’ll do no such thing. Stay away from me!” she rages. “Never look at me again!”

Then, she storms off, on her way up to her suite at the Degas. Yes, Patrick O’Lachlan is paying to put his sister up in luxury because it’s no big deal to the billionaire to fork over a fortune to keep his sister in a five-star hotel. Even better, he’s put me up in a suite as well because it’s my job to stick close to the curvy temptress ... whether she likes it or not.

5

Ainsley

That asshole! Who does he think he is?

I fume while leading Button on her leash. To be honest, at the moment I’m not even sure if the “asshole” I’m thinking of refers to my brother, Patrick, or the infuriating bodyguard from last night. What was his name again? That’s right, Karl.

Still, my insides go shivery and hot thinking about the alpha male because he’sgorgeous. He’s insanely tall, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Shoulders as wide as a tank, and he looked amazing in a dark suit too. I saw how the fit of his jacket hugged his broad torso, and how the white color of his button down emphasized his deep tan. I loved how my hand disappeared in his giant one, safe in his grasp.

But still, Karl is an asshole, sexy European accent or not. He’s a possessive, manipulative, grade A douche who thinks he can tellmewhat to do! Hell no. No one tells me what to do, and especially nothim.

I give a curt shake of my head, still fuming. After our little tete-a-tete last night, I stormed off and sulked in my room. I spent hours pacing my bedroom, dreaming up witty retorts and saucy quips before reminding myself that I have no plans to speak with Karl Andersen again.Ever. So all this energy was being wasted, and I threw myself into bed, forcing myself to lie still and close my eyes.

But this morning, I woke up, still furious with my mind racing. What the hell? That guy doesn’t control me! Fortunately, Karl doesn’t have my contact info, and I didn’t brief him on my whereabouts either. Sure, he was able to find me at the La Bianca fashion show, but the fashion show was publicized for weeks leading up to the big day, so it couldn’t have been hard to figure out my location. But what I do in my own time is private, and I make a mental note to evade that controlling asshole.

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