Page 157 of The Bodyguard Situation

I offer her my best poker face. “Definefound.”

She reads people like contracts. Every pause, every flicker, every deflection is something she studies. I give her nothing, and still, she looks like she’s won.

“You’re transparent,” she tells me.

“Maybe I’m evolving.”

She scoffs. “God help us all.”

I leave her with that and move back into the flow of the party. There’s chatter about the triplets, Harper’s ring, Brody’s “domesticated” era, and a newly launched resort collaboration that I may or may not be casually invested in.

My phone buzzes, and I slide it from my pocket. I glance at the text message.

Unknown

Thinking about you.

I don’t reply—I never do—not because I don’t want to, but because I shouldn’t. The smiley face at the end tells me exactly who it is. I lock the screen and slip the phone back into my pocket. This, whatever it is, started a while ago. I haven’t figured out how to stop thinking about her even though I have a strict policy of only hookups, but she doesn’t play by the rules.

Across the room, Brody’s watching me like he knows my secrets. Like he’s waiting for me to confess things I don’t want to admit to myself.

I raise my glass in his direction, giving him a head nod.

He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.

Seconds later, my phone buzzes again, and it’s a text message from Brody, but it comes with a link.

It takes me to the website where the blinds are posted.

Blind Item #237

The ex-hockey player and golden boy turned billionaire marketer baddie has been dodging the spotlight and the one woman he’s trying to keep secret.

I read it a few times,feeling like my phone might burn through my hand. My mind wanders back to a few months ago, and memories of her flood my mind. I push them away, not getting lost in my thoughts. Not here. Not now.

When I glance up, I realize I’m in the same room, with the same voices, and have the same damn spotlight on me that’s always chasing me. No one knows I just got blasted by a blind item, except for Brody Calloway.

As he watches me, I plaster a cocky-as-fuck smirk on my face, trying to mentally prepare myself to be the talk of the gossip magazines again.Fuck.

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