Page 7 of Deeper

Zander angled his head to see me, his eyes measuring me out silently, making me feel exposed. “Dax, she’s in a T-shirt.”

His accent was thick, much more prominent than his singing voice.

Under the brim of his baseball cap, Dax assessed me, not letting his guard down. For a guy who was snarling at me, I had to admit, he was kinda fine.

Dax backed off and went to secure the alley while the other guard reluctantly let Zander come over to me as the driver went and got in behind the wheel.

Zander was tall—not as huge as his Herculean bodyguards, but a smooth six-foot. Standing in front of him, he instantly dwarfed my five-six.What’s more, he held a loud presence. I couldfeelhim even as he stood a foot away from me.

Once more he read me over. His eyes lingered on the bloody handprint on my right arm before lifting to meet my gaze. “Are you all right, miss?”

With all the harassment tamed, I regained my resolve.

“Fuck you, Zander,” I practically spat at him.

He narrowed his eyes, taking me in as if I were out of my mind. “Excuse me?That’syour way of thanking me?”

“It’s your fault I was in that mess. My best friend came to see you sing and you flaked on her, onallyour fans, and I just knew that was you in that Rolls-Royce.”

Zander blinked a couple of times, still confused. “It sounds like what you lack in manners, you also lack in self-control.”

He was trying me now. “Fuck you, Zander.”

He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sure there are much better things you can say with your mouth than disrespect.”

My hand flew across his face before I could attempt to stop myself.

The loud sound of my slapping his precious face caused Dax to turn from the alley and the White guard, Mr. Clean, to advance close.

Zander simply held a hand up as his eyes stayed locked on me and both guards remained where they were.

Zander took a step closer, sizing me up. “Maybe I deserved that, but don’t ever put your hands on me again.”

I prepared to hit him again. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” he said. “No one deserves to be subjected to abuse.”

I hated how right he was in that moment.

The loud banshee-like cry of sirens blared in the air from up front, drawing all of our attention to the alley.

If things were bad up there before, I knew it would be worse by now.

“What’s your name?” Zander prompted as he turned back to me.

“Bia—Bianka,” I said.

“Get in the car, Bianka,” he told me.

His tone, mixed with his accent, was hypnotic, but common sense pushed through. “What?”

Zander gestured towards the alley. “Let me drive you back up front safely. I don’t trust the walk back. It’s been an uncomfortable evening, yeah?”

How chivalrous of him.

Mr. Clean wasn’t feeling the idea, however. “Zan, man, I’m not too sure about this.”

“Terry, it’s all right,” Zander insisted. “I’m positive Bianka and I’ve come to an understanding about boundaries.”

---