Page 3 of Big Bodyguard
Suddenly, the man doesn’t seem as drunk as he did at first. His grip is firm, and his stance is steady. He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me tightly against his body. My hearthammers violently against my chest when I feel the outline of the gun he has stored under his jacket.
I look around wildly, wondering if anyone is paying attention, but no one seems to give a damn. Everyone is lost in their music and alcohol.
I turn back to the bastard, ready to claw out his eyes if necessary. I don’t know what his plan for me is, but I know it isn’t anything good. “Get your hands off me, you—”
Suddenly, he’s off me, his body flying across the room through a sea of parting bodies. My eyes grow wide, a loud gasp escaping my lips as I see him sprawled out on the ground, his expression twisted in pain.
I turn to my rescuer and look up slowly, meeting the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. My breath catches in my throat, and it has nothing to do with the commotion that’s unraveling around me and everything to do with the devilishly handsome man who just saved me.
He steps closer, his expression neutral, like he didn’t just hurl a grown man across the room like it was nothing.
“Are you okay, princess?” His voice is low, almost intimate, a smooth, deep rumble that sends a shiver racing down my spine.
The way he says that word—princess…
It’s what the tabloids call me too, but for the first time in my life, it doesn’t make me cringe. It makes me want to hear him say it again. And again.
“I asked if you’re okay?” he says again, his striking blue eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.
I nod, suddenly feeling tongue-tied.
“Good,” he says curtly, his hand suddenly closing over mine. Bold. Possessive. “Let’s get out of here.”
And just like that, he starts to pull me through the crowd. I follow, too stunned and overwhelmed to realize what’s going on.
Or maybe I’m just distracted by the feeling of his strong, calloused hand around mine.
Chapter Two
Jack
All night, I’ve barely been able to stop myself from dragging this woman off that damn dance floor.
She thinks she’s blending in. But in reality, she stands out. She has from the moment she walked out of her hotel room all dolled up in that damn little dress that’s tight enough to drive any man crazy.
She looks like an entirely different person. Nothing like the innocent princess with the perfect smile whose face is always plastered on magazine covers and news articles. She definitely doesn’t look like the good little girl her father keeps locked behind glass walls.
Tonight, she looks like a temptress. Long legs glistening under club lights. Brown eyes wide with nerves and naivete, and still she managed to disarm half the room just by smiling.
Every time some bastard leaned in to whisper in her ear, I felt rage simmer in my guts and I wanted to tear them apart. But that wasn’t my place. I have a job to do, and it has nothing to do with the strange feeling of possessiveness in my chest, or the senseless lust raging in my blood as I watched her.
I tried to detach myself from everything else and focus on my job. I watched this man watch her all night. He didn’t have more than a single beer, but he acted like he was drunk, harmless. And his eyes never left her. But as long as he didn’t make a move, I told myself to stay still, to wait.
And when that piece of shit put his hands on her, I lost it.
I also lost the chance to figure out who he is and who sent him, because while I focused my attention on her, he got away. I don’t believe he was the drunk he was pretending to be, or that his attack on Charlotte Freeman was a coincidence. Not with the kind of threats her father’s been receiving lately.
I’ll soon have to explain why I’m holding her hand and pulling her toward my car. Her gratitude will only get me so far. I’m still a stranger to her, and her father’s orders were clear. I was to let her have her fun, let her think she’s free, and not reveal my presence unless it was absolutely necessary.
Now my cover is about to be blown.
She suddenly stops walking, digging her heels into the ground. “Wait!” She yanks her hand out of mine and steps back a little.
Here we go.
She’s flustered, her voice still shaking a little. “Thank you for saving me back there, but I think I’m alright from here.”
She’s beautiful up close. Even more dangerously gorgeous than when I watched from the shadows. Fresh-faced, skin glowing under the streetlamps, lips painted a bold red. She’s so young. So oblivious…
