Page 4 of Faking It for the Bodyguard

“Do you have the file on…Azalea?” I ask. Jefferson nods and hands over a slim folder with barely anything in it. I hold it up, raising my eyebrows.

“Are you kidding me? This is it?” Most people have a stuffed folder that you can call up on them. There’s no way in hell an artist has nothing.

“She’s kinda quiet. She keeps to herself. Most of what you’ll find in there is on her art shows.”

I open the folder and spread it out on the desktop in front of me. Instantly, my eyes sharpen, struck by the stunning shot of her face. Perfect oval face surrounded by a halo of golden curls that dances around her high cheekbones flushed with pink as she laughs with somebody. A torrent of hate rips through me. Who the hell is that guy?

“He’s just a customer. Nobody really.”

I nod my head, realizing I spoke out loud instead of just growling it in my head.

I should be checking the rest of the information in the folder but I can’t look away from the sparkle in her tilted eyes. Spring green eyes that remind me of fresh new grass. Light and so innocent. Fresh. Young. So damn wrong for me. Too bad my cock doesn’t realize it because I’m fighting the monster of all erections just looking at a picture.

Meeting her in person is either gonna cure me or kill me.

CHAPTER3

Azalea

“Azalea, honey? Are you awake?” I hear my father’s strong voice and rail against it. No way in hell I’m waking up just because he tells me to. Not gonna happen.

“Dammit, Azalea! Wake up! I know you’ve already come to. I can tell from the monitor!”

Dammit! Why does he always know everything? I hate that. Fucking pisses me off.

I open my eyes slowly, groaning as the light feels like it’s burning my eye sockets.

“Turn the lights down,” my father grumbles. Instantly the light dims enough for me to open my eyes. It still feels like there’s a fucking sledgehammer inside my head, but at least it doesn’t feel like I’m looking into a nuclear blast.

“What do you want, father?” I grumble, pushing myself up slowly in the bed, refusing to feel at a disadvantage with him. He takes advantage of every damn weakness he finds. It’s unnerving and I’m not dealing with it right now. I feel like hell but I’m damned if I’ll let him know that.

“Can’t a father just want to see how his daughter who almost died is doing?”

I nod my head, wincing at the stabbing pain that action causes. “Sure. Most fathers but not you. Not the great and powerful Carson McDermott. You’re too busy for that much emotion.”

Guilt stabs at me when I see his eyes cloud over with pain.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Azalea. I’ve always made sure you had everything you needed. I’ve done the best I can.”

I know he has. But he’s the least fatherly man I’ve ever seen in my life. He just doesn’t have it in him. But I shouldn’t pick on him about it. He is what he is. Since my mother died it was just he and I. And he did the best he could considering that he was dealing with the death of his wife. But I was only seven and I was dealing with the death of my mother.

“I know, father. But I’ve told you I don’t need anything from you. It’s not necessary.”

He shakes his head and those icy blue eyes of his flash with anger. “Too bad. I’ve decided that it is necessary. So I’ve found you a bodyguard until this man is found.”

I sit up quickly in the bed, glaring at him. “That’s not fucking necessary. I don’t need a damn babysitter!”

“I’m not a damn babysitter,” a harsh voice grates beside me and I jump, my eyes drifting to the dark man silently leaning against the wall by the window.

He steps forward and I gasp, my body tensing.Holy shit!How the hell did I miss this guy being in the room. My eyes drift up and up. He’s a huge mountain of a man that looks like he barely fits through doorways. His shoulders are wide and muscular under the perfectly-tailored jacket and shirt. His face isn’t classically handsome. As a matter of fact, it looks like his nose has been broken at some point and it crooks slightly to the left. His dark black eyes flash with anger when I continue staring at him. It makes me pathetically happy that I’ve gotten under his skin. Because he’s under mine so deep that I can feel his essence wrapping around me, practically smothering me in alpha male.

I bristle angrily. “I don’t know who the hell you are but whatever my father told you, it’s not true and I don’t want a babysitter. So you can just go back to where you came from.”

He shakes his head and a lock of dark black hair falls across his tanned forehead giving him a rakish air, like a fucking pirate. I glance down at the floor, my imagination running away with me so bad that I half expect to look down and see a damn peg leg. Instead of that, I see long, strong, muscular legs like tree trunks and when he shifts, his suit pants are so tailored I can see his muscles flex under the fabric. A lightheaded feeling creeps across me and I fight it, trying to convince myself that it’s just my head. Not the quick tingle that zips through my belly, setting up a little blaze that I push down into embers.

No fucking way. Not gonna happen. I’ve got nothing to give this man or any other. And he looks like exactly the kind of guy my father always wanted me to get involved with. Which means he is absolutely everything I don’t need.

I point at the behemoth standing in the corner. “He needs to go. I’m not putting up with a damn strange man hovering over me all day and night. I’m just not.”

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