Page 74 of Sinful Like Us
Xander blinks. “Uh, that’s not a secret if that many people know.It’s information.” He crunches the can in his hand. “As the great Varys would say.”
He’s referencingGame of Thrones. Honestly, I wish I could go back in time and tell my stone-cold-serious teenage self how much I’d know about George R.R. Martin and Tolkien and trolls. I’d probably smile more than I ever did.
I fix my eyes on my client. “Then it’s information you need to keep secret.”
He licks soda off his lips. “I can do that.”
I nod strongly, confident in this kid, and I watch his features lighten.
Comms crackle. “Donnelly to Thatcher, coming in hot with lunch.”
I press the mic. “Copy.” To Xander, I say, “Donnelly’s on his way up with food.”
“Awesome.” Xander stands on the skateboard and rolls to the window.
I leave the door and grab my water bottle off his desk.
He pries down a single blind, just enough to peer out of the slat. “Do you think Donnelly is bored? Being on my detail, I mean.”
My brows knit, caught off guard. “Why would you even think that?”
Xander releases the blind and glances back at me. “Because he used to beBeckett’sbodyguard. And before that, Tom’s. So he’s used to hanging around ballerinas and musicians rather than just sitting inside all day and staring at a wall.” Xander shrugs. “And like I don’t even go to Dalton Academy, so there’s no high school drama he can soak up. I’m just boring, so by process of fucking deduction he’s probably bored.”
I squint because he’s seeing something I don’t see. Something I can’t see.
He’s the son of billionaires, a teen spectacle that fans fawn over and media stokes into a worldwide phenomenon—his life is way out of range fromslowandaverageandordinary.
I shake my head. “I’m not bored, and you’re not boring.” That’s it. End of story. I’m about to twist open my water, but his chest collapses.
I plant 120% of my concentration on him.
“You have to say that. You’re my…you’re mybodyguard.” He runs a hand through his hair.
I go still.
He can barely meet my eyes. What I feel for Xander…it’s as deep as blood, but I’m not his brother. I’m not permanent to his life in that sense, and I’ve tried…
I’ve tried fuckinghardto make sure he understands this.
I’m replaceable.
Banks is replaceable. We should just be nameless bodyguards on a team to Xander, and one day another bodyguard will stand here and take our post. He shouldn’t bat an eye or even notice a real difference. His life should continue at the same rate without misstep or back shuffle.
Being on his detail again—I’m blowing a fuse that I already struggled to tear out of a bomb. Confusing him andme.
Swiftly, I act on instinct and scrounge upprofessionalfacts. “It shouldn’t even matter what Donnelly or I think. We aren’t here to be entertained by you. We’re here to protect you.”
Xander opens his arms wide. “Exactly. 99% of the time, you’re protecting meinsidemy own damn room. And we both know that the threats are mostly justme.”
I unscrew my water, muscles stiff as we ride down this road.
I’ve seen Xander at some of the lowest points. I’ve tried to pull him up. I remember him at eleven. How he couldn’t get out of bed one morning. He was crying, sobbing, and could barely breathe as he said,“I don’t want to be here.”
I had to call his parents. I stayed with him. I held his hand.
It’s true that most clients don’t ask for their bodyguards to be in their room with them all day.
Every day.
