Twisted Games

Introduction

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form

or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and

retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use

of brief quotations in a book review and certain other noncommercial use

permitted by copyright law.

Resemblance to actual persons and things living or dead, locales, or events is

entirely coincidental.

TWISTED GAMES:

Cover Designer: Quirah Casey, Temptation Creations

Editor: Amy Briggs, Briggs Consulting LLC

Proofreader: Krista Burdine

Photographer: Wander Aguiar

Model: Christoph Leitner

To all the girls who said fuck Prince Charming,

give me a scarred knight.

CONTENTS

Playlist

Synopsis

Note to Readers:

Part I

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys/Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Bridget/Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Part II

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Bridget

Rhys

Epilogue

Books by Ana Huang

Keep in touch with Ana Huang

Acknowledgments

About the Author

playlist

“Queen”—Loren Gray

“Castle”—Halsey

“Arcade”—Duncan Laurence

“You Should See Me in a Crown”—Billie Eilish

”Telepatía”—Kali Uchis**

“Stay”—Rihanna

“Uncover”—Zara Larsson

“Secret Love Song”—Little Mix

“They Don’t Know About Us”—One Direction

“Minefields”—Faouzia & John Legend

“Wildest Dreams”—Taylor Swift

“Princesses Don’t Cry”—Aviva

“Fairytale” (Slowed Version)—Alexander Rybak

“I Guess I’m in Love”—Clinton Kane

**For the Chapter 18 vibes more than the lyrics

Introduction

She can never be his...but he's taking her anyway.

Stoic, broody, and arrogant, elite bodyguard Rhys Larsen has

two rules: 1) Protect his clients at all costs 2) Do not become

emotionally involved. Ever.

He has never once been tempted to break those rules…

until her.

Bridget von Ascheberg. A princess with a stubborn streak

that matches his own and a hidden fire that reduces his rules

to ash. She’s nothing he expected and everything he never

knew he needed.

Day by day, inch by inch, she breaks down his defenses until

he’s faced with a truth he can no longer deny: he swore an

oath to protect her, but all he wants is to ruin her. Take her.

Because she’s his.

His princess.

His forbidden fruit.

His every depraved fantasy.

***

Regal, strong-willed, and bound by the chains of duty,

Princess Bridget dreams of the freedom to live and love as

she chooses.

But when her brother abdicates, she’s suddenly faced with

the prospect of a loveless, politically expedient marriage and

a throne she never wanted.

And as she navigates the intricacies—and treacheries—of

her new role, she must also hide her desire for a man she

can’t have.

Her bodyguard.

Her protector.

Her ultimate ruin.

Unexpected and forbidden, theirs is a love that could destroy

a kingdom…and doom them both.

Part one: First chapter

NOTE TO READERS:

This story takes place over four years and includes several

time jumps, especially in Part I, in order to bring us to the

present. It has overlapping timelines with the preceding

book, Twisted Love.

Part I takes place through the epilogue of Twisted Love (the

past); Part II takes place after (the present).

It is recommended but not necessary to read Twisted Love

first in order to understand what happens.

BRIDGET

“Spank me! Master, spank me!”

I stifled a laugh at my bodyguard Booth’s face as Leather

the parrot squawked in his cage. The parrot’s name said all

you needed to know about its previous owner’s sex life, and

while some found him amusing, Booth did not. He hated

birds. He said they reminded him of giant flying rats.

“One day, he and Leather are going to get into it.” Emma,

the director of Wags & Whiskers, clucked her tongue. “Poor

Booth.”

I held back another laugh even as I felt a small pang in my

heart. “Probably not. Booth’s leaving soon.”

I tried not to think about it. Booth had been with me for

four years, but he was leaving for paternity leave next week

and staying in Eldorra after to be closer to his wife and

newborn. I was happy for him, but I would miss him. He was

not only my bodyguard but a friend, and I could only hope

his replacement and I had the same rapport.

“Ah, yes, I forgot.” Emma’s face softened. She was in her

early sixties, with short, gray-streaked hair and warm brown

eyes. “Lots of changes for you in a short time, my dear.”

She knew how much I hated goodbyes.

I’d been volunteering at Wags & Whiskers, a local pet

rescue shelter, since my sophomore year of college, and

Emma had become a close friend and mentor. Unfortunately,

she, too, was leaving. She’d still be in Hazelburg, but she was

retiring as the shelter director, which meant I would no

longer see her every week.

“One of them doesn’t have to happen,

” I said, only halfjoking. “You could stay.”

She shook her head. “I’ve run the shelter for almost a

decade, and it’s time for new blood. Someone who can clean

the cages without her back and hips acting up.”

“That’s what volunteers are for.” I gestured toward

myself. I was belaboring the point, but I couldn’t help it.

Between Emma, Booth, and my impending graduation from

Thayer University, where I was majoring in international

relations—as expected of a princess—I had enough

goodbyes to last me for the next five years.

“You are a sweetheart. Don’t tell the others, but…” She

lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re my

favorite volunteer. It’s rare to find someone of your stature

who does charity because she wants to, not because she’s

putting on a show for the cameras.”

My cheeks tinted pink at the compliment. “It’s my

pleasure. I adore animals.” I took after my mother in that

regard. It was one of the few pieces of her I had left.

In another life, I would’ve been a veterinarian, but in this

life? My path had been laid out for me since before I was

born.

“You would make a great queen.” Emma stepped aside to

allow a staff member with a wriggling puppy in his arms to

pass. “Truly.”

I laughed at the thought. “Thank you, but I have no

interest in being queen. Even if I did, the chances of me

wearing the crown are slim.”

As the princess of Eldorra, a small European kingdom, I

came closer to ruling than most people. My parents died

when I was a kid—my mother at childbirth, my father in a

car accident a few years later—so I was second in line to the

throne. My brother Nikolai, who was four years my senior,

had been training to take over for our grandfather King

Edvard since he was old enough to walk. Once Nikolai had

children, I would be bumped further down the line of

succession, something I had zero complaints about. I wanted

to be queen as much as I wanted to bathe in a vat of acid.

Emma frowned in disappointment. “Ah, well, the

sentiment is the same.”

“Emma!” one of the other staff members called out.

“We’ve got a situation with the cats.”

She sighed. “It’s always the cats,

” she muttered.

“Anyway, I wanted to tell you about my retirement before

you heard it from anyone else. I’ll still be here until the end

of next week, so I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Sounds good.” I hugged her goodbye and watched her

rush off to deal with a literal catfight, the pang in my chest

growing.

I was glad Emma hadn’t told me about her retirement

until the end of my shift, or it would’ve been in my head the

whole time.

“Are you ready, Your Highness?” Booth asked, clearly

eager to get away from Leather.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

“Yes, let’s go!” Leather squawked as we exited. “Spank

me!”

My laugh finally broke free at Booth’s grimace. “I’ll miss

you, and so will Leather.” I stuffed my hands in my coat

pockets to protect them against the sharp autumn chill. “Tell

me about the new bodyguard. What’s he like?”

The leaves crunched beneath my boots as we walked

toward my off-campus house, which was only fifteen

minutes away. I adored fall and everything that came with it

—the cozy clothes, the riot of earthy colors on the trees, the

hint of cinnamon and smoke in the air.

In Athenberg, I wouldn’t be able to walk down the street

without getting mobbed, but that was the great thing about

Thayer. Its student population boasted so many royals and

celebrity offspring, a princess was no big deal. I could live

my life like a relatively normal college girl.

“I don’t know much about the new guard,

” Booth

admitted. “He’s a contractor.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

The Crown sometimes hired private security contractors

to serve alongside the Royal Guard, but it was rare. In my

twenty-one years, I’d never had a bodyguard who was a

contractor.

“He’s supposed to be the best,

” Booth said, mistaking my

surprise for wariness. “Ex-Navy SEAL, top-notch

recommendations, experience guarding high-profile

personalities. He’s his company’s most sought-after

professional.”

“Hmm.” An American guard. Interesting. “I do hope we get

along.”

When two people were around each other twenty-fourseven, compatibility mattered. A lot. I knew people who

hadn’t meshed with their security details, and those

arrangements never lasted long.

“I’m sure you will. You’re easy to get along with, Your

Highness.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m your boss.”

Booth grinned. “Technically, the Director of the Royal

Guard is my boss.”

I wagged a playful finger at him. “Backtalking already?

I’m disappointed.”

He laughed. Despite his insistence on calling me Your

Highness, we’d settled into a casual camaraderie over the

years that I appreciated. Excessive formality exhausted me.

We chatted about Booth’s impending fatherhood and

move back to Eldorra for the rest of our walk. He was near

bursting with pride over his unborn child, and I couldn’t

help a small stab of envy. I was nowhere near ready for

marriage and kids, but I wanted what Booth and his wife

had.

Love. Passion. Choice. Things no amount of money could

buy.

A sardonic smile touched my lips. No doubt I’d sound like

an ungrateful brat to anyone who could hear my thoughts. I

could get any material thing I desired with a snap of my

fingers, and I was whining about love.

But people were people, no matter their title, and some

desires were universal. Unfortunately, the ability to fulfill

them was not.

Maybe I would fall in love with a prince who’d sweep me

off my feet, but I doubted it. Most likely, I’d end up in a

boring, socially acceptable marriage with a boring, socially

acceptable man who only had sex missionary style and

vacationed in the same two places every year.

I pushed the depressing thought aside. I had a long way to

go before I even thought about marriage, and I’d cross that

bridge when I got there.

My house came into sight, and my eyes latched onto the

unfamiliar black BMW idling in the driveway. I assumed it

belonged to my new bodyguard.

“He’s early.” Booth raised a surprised brow. “He’s not

supposed to arrive until five.”

“Punctuality is a good sign, I suppose.” Though half an

hour early might be overkill.

The car door opened, and a large black boot planted itself

on the driveway. A second later, the biggest man I’d ever

seen in real life unfolded himself from the front seat, and my

mouth turned bone dry.

Holy. Hotness.

My new bodyguard had to be at least six foot four, maybe

even six-five, with solid, sculpted muscle packed onto every

inch of his powerful frame. Longish black hair grazed his

collar and fell over one gunmetal-gray eye, and his legs were

so long he ate up the distance between us in three strides.

For someone so large, he moved with surprising stealth. If

I hadn’t been looking at him, I wouldn’t have noticed him

approach at all.

He stopped in front of me, and I swore my body tilted

forward a centimeter, unable to resist his gravitational pull. I

was also strangely tempted to run my hand through his thick

dark locks. Most veterans kept their hair military-style short

even after leaving the service, but clearly, he wasn’t one of

them.

“Rhys Larsen.” His deep, gravelly voice rolled over me

like a velvety caress. Now that he was closer, I spotted a thin

scar slashing through his left eyebrow, adding a hint of

menace to his dark good looks. Stubble darkened his jaw, and

a hint of a tattoo peeked out from both sleeves of his shirt.

He was the opposite of the preppy, clean-shaven types I

usually went for, but that didn’t stop a swarm of butterflies

from taking flight in my stomach.

I was so flustered by their appearance I forgot to respond

until Booth let out a small cough.

“I’m Bridget. It’s nice to meet you.” I hoped neither man

noticed the flush creeping over my cheeks.

I omitted the Princess title on purpose. It seemed too

pretentious for casual, one-on-one settings.

I did, however, notice Rhys didn’t address me as Your

Highness the way Booth did. I didn’t mind—I’d been trying to

get Booth to call me by my first name for years—but it was

another sign my new guard would be nothing like my old

one.

“You have to move.”

I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your house.” Rhys tilted his head toward my spacious

but cozy two-bedroom abode. “It’s a security nightmare. I

don’t know who signed off on the location, but you have to

move.”

The butterflies screeched to a halt.

We’d met less than two minutes ago, and he was already

ordering me around like he was the boss. Who does he think he

is? “I’ve lived here for two years. I’ve never had an issue.”

“It only takes one time.”

“I’m not moving.” I punctuated my words with a

sharpness I rarely used, but Rhys’s condescending tone

grated on my nerves.

Any attraction I’d felt toward him crumbled into ash,

dying the quickest death in my history with the opposite sex.

Not that it would’ve gone anywhere. He was, after all, my

bodyguard, but it would’ve been nice to have eye candy

without wanting to drop-kick him into the next century.

Men. They always ruined it by opening their mouths.

“You’re the security expert,

” I added coolly. “Figure it

out.”

Rhys glowered at me beneath thick, dark brows. I couldn’t

remember the last time anyone had glowered at me.

“Yes, Your Highness.” His inflection on the last two words

made a mockery of the title, and the embers of indignation

in my stomach stoked brighter.

I opened my mouth to respond—with what, I wasn’t sure,

because he hadn’t been outright hostile—but Booth cut in

before I said something I would regret.

“Why don’t we go inside? It looks like it’s about to rain,

”

he said quickly.

Rhys and I looked up. The clear blue sky winked back at

us.

Booth cleared his throat. “You never know. Rain showers

come out of nowhere,

” he muttered. “After you, Your

Highness.”

We entered the house in silence.

I shrugged off my coat and hung it on the brass tree by

the door before making another stab at civility. “Would you

like something to drink?”

Irritation still stabbed at me, but I hated confrontation,

and I didn’t want my relationship with my new bodyguard to

start on such a sour note.

“No.” Rhys scanned the living room, which I’d decorated

in shades of jade green and cream. A housekeeper came by

twice a month to deep clean, but I kept the place tidy myself

for the most part.

“Why don’t we get to know each other?” Booth said in a

jovial, too-loud voice. “Er, I mean you and Rhys, Your

Highness. We can talk needs, expectations, schedules…”

“Excellent idea.” I mustered a strained smile and

gestured Rhys toward the couch. “Please. Sit.”

For the next forty-five minutes, we ran through logistics

for the transition. Booth would remain my bodyguard until

Monday, but Rhys would shadow him until then so he could

get a feel for how things worked.

“This is all fine.” Rhys closed the file containing a

detailed breakdown of my class and weekly schedules,

upcoming public events, and expected travel. “Let me be

frank, Princess Bridget. You are not my first, nor will you be

the last, royal I’ve guarded. I’ve worked with Harper Security

for five years, and I’ve never had a client harmed while

under my protection. Do you want to know why?”

“Let me guess. Your dazzling charm stunned the wouldbe attackers into complacency,

” I said.

Booth choked out a laugh, which he quickly turned into a

cough.

Rhys’s mouth didn’t so much as twitch. Of course it didn’t.

My joke wasn’t Comedy Central worthy, but I imagined

finding a waterfall in the Sahara would be easier than finding

a drop of humor in that big, infuriatingly sculpted body.

“The reason is twofold,

” Rhys said calmly, as if I hadn’t

spoken at all. “One, I do not become involved in my clients’

personal lives. I am here to safeguard you from physical

harm. That is all. I am not here to be your friend, confidant,

or anything else. This ensures my judgment remains

uncompromised. Two, my clients understand the way things

must work if they are to remain safe.”

“And how is that?” My polite smile carried a warning he

either didn’t notice or ignored.

“They do what I say, when I say it for anything securityrelated.” Rhys’s gray eyes locked onto mine. It was like

staring at an unyielding steel wall. “Understand, Your

Highness?”

Forget love and passion. What I wanted most was to slap

the arrogant expression off his face and knee him in the

family jewels while I was at it.

I pressed the pads of my fingers into my thighs and

forced myself to count to three before I responded.

When I spoke again, my voice was frigid enough to make

Antarctica look like a beach paradise. “Yes.” My smile

sharpened. “Luckily for us both, Mr. Larsen, I have no

interest in being your friend, confidant, or ‘anything else.’”

I didn’t bother dignifying the second part of his

statement—the one about me doing what he said, when he

said it—with a response. I wasn’t an idiot. I’d always heeded

Booth’s security advice, but I’d be damned if I fed into

Rhys’s inflated sense of self.

“Good.” Rhys stood. I hated how tall he was. His presence

obliterated everything else in the vicinity until he was the

only thing I could focus on. “I’ll assess the house before we

discuss next steps, including upgrading your security

system. Right now, any teenager with access to YouTube

tutorials can bypass the alarm.” He shot me a disapproving

glare before he disappeared into the kitchen.

My jaw dropped. “He—you…” I sputtered,

uncharacteristically speechless. “Why, I never!” I turned to

Booth, who was trying to melt into the giant potted plant by

the front door. “You’re not leaving. I forbid it.”

Rhys could not be my bodyguard. I would murder him, and

my housekeeper would murder me for staining the carpet

with blood.

“He probably has first-day jitters.” Booth looked as

uncertain as he sounded. “You’ll get along just fine after the,

ah, transition period, Your Highness.”

Perhaps…if we made it out of the transition period alive.

“You’re right.” I pressed my fingers to my temple and

took a deep breath. I can do this. I’d dealt with difficult people

before. My cousin Andreas was the spawn of Satan, and a

British lord once tried to grope me under the table at

Monaco’s Rose Ball. He only stopped after I “accidentally”

stabbed his hand with a fork.

What was one surly bodyguard compared to entitled

aristocrats, nosy reporters, and evil family members?

Rhys returned. Surprise, surprise, his glower hadn’t

melted.

“I’ve detected six security vulnerabilities we need to

address ASAP,

” he said. “Let’s start with number one: the

windows.”

“Which ones?” Stay calm. Stay reasonable.

“All of them.”

Booth covered his face with his hands while I

contemplated turning my hairpin into a murder weapon.

Rhys and I definitely weren’t making it out of the

transition alive.

Chapter 2

RHYS

Princess Bridget von Ascheberg of Eldorra would be the death

of me. If not literal death, then the death of my patience and

sanity. Of that, I was certain, and we’d only been working

together for two weeks.

I’d never had a client who infuriated me as much as she

did. Sure, she was beautiful (not a good thing when you were

in my position) and charming (to everyone except me), but

she was also a royal pain in my ass. When I said “right,

” she went left; when I said “leave,

” she stayed. She insisted on

spontaneously attending crowded events before I could do

the advance work, and she treated my security concerns like

they were an afterthought instead of an emergency.

Bridget said that was the way things had worked with

Booth, and she’d been fine. I said I wasn’t Booth, so I didn’t

give a damn what she did or didn’t do when she was with

him. I ran the show now.

She didn’t take that well, but I didn’t give a shit. I wasn’t

here to win Mr. Congeniality. I was here to keep her alive.

Tonight, “here” meant the most crowded bar in

Hazelburg. Half of Thayer had turned out for The Crypt’s

Friday night half-off specials, and I was sure the bar was

over max capacity.

Loud music, loud people. My least favorite kind of place

and, apparently, Bridget’s most favorite, considering how

vehement she’d been about coming here.

“So.” Her redheaded friend Jules eyed me over the rim of

her glass. “You were a Navy SEAL, huh?”

“Yes.” I wasn’t fooled by her flirty tone or party girl

demeanor. I’d run in-depth background checks on all of

Bridget’s friends the moment I took the job, and I knew for a

fact Jules Ambrose was more dangerous than she appeared.

But she didn’t pose a threat to Bridget, so I didn’t mention

what she did in Ohio. It wasn’t my story to tell.

“I love military men,

” she purred.

“Ex-military, J.” Bridget didn’t look at me as she finished

her drink. “Besides, he’s too old for you.”

That was one of the few things I agreed with her on. I was

only thirty-one, so I wasn’t ancient by any means, but I’d

done and witnessed enough shit in my life to feel ancient,

especially compared to fresh-faced college students who

hadn’t even had their first real job yet.

I’d never been fresh-faced, not even when I was a kid. I

grew up in dirt and grit.

Meanwhile, Bridget sat across from me, looking like the

fairytale princess she was. Big blue eyes and lush pink lips

set in a heart-shaped face, perfect alabaster skin, golden

hair falling in loose waves down her back. Her black top

bared her smooth shoulders, and tiny diamonds glittered on

her ears.

Young, rich, and regal. The opposite of me in every way.

“Negative. I love older men.” Jules upped the wattage of

her smile as she gave me another once-over. “And you’re

hot.”

I didn’t smile back. I wasn’t dumb enough to get involved

with a client’s friend. I already had my hands full with

Bridget.

Figuratively speaking.

“Leave the man alone.” Stella laughed. Fashion design and

communications major. Daughter of an environmental lawyer

and the chief of staff to a cabinet secretary. Social media star. My

brain ticked off all the things I knew about her as she

snapped a photo of her cocktail before taking a sip. “Find

someone your own age.”

“Guys my age are boring. I’d know. I dated a bunch of

them.” Jules nudged Ava, the last member of Bridget’s close

friend group. Aside from Jules’s inappropriate come-ons,

they were a decent bunch. Certainly better than the friends of

the Hollywood starlet I’d guarded for three excruciating

months, during which I saw more “accidental” genital

flashings than I’d thought I would ever see in my life.

“Speaking of older men, where’s your boo?”

Ava blushed. “He can’t make it. He has a conference call

with some business partners in Japan.”

“Oh, he’ll make it,” Jules drawled. “You in a bar,

surrounded by drunken, horny college guys? I’m surprised

he hasn’t—ah. Speak of the devil. There he is.”

I followed her gaze to where a tall, dark-haired man cut a

path through the crowd of said drunken, horny college guys.

Green eyes, tailored designer clothing, and an icy

expression that made the frozen tundra of Greenland look

like tropical islands.

Alex Volkov.

I knew the name and reputation, even if I didn’t know

him personally. He was a legend in certain circles.

The de facto CEO of the country’s largest real estate

development company, Alex had enough connections and

blackmail material to bring down half of Congress and the

Fortune 500.

I didn’t trust him, but he was dating one of Bridget’s best

friends, which meant his presence was unavoidable.

Ava’s face lit up when she saw him. “Alex! I thought you

had a business call.”

“The call wrapped up early, so I thought I’d swing by.”

He brushed his lips over hers.

“I love when I’m right, which is almost always.” Jules

shot Alex a sly glance. “Alex Volkov in a college bar? Never

thought I’d see the day.”

He ignored her.

The music changed from low-key R&B to a remix of the

latest radio hit, and the bar went wild. Jules and Stella

scrambled out of their seats to hit the dance floor, followed

by Bridget, but Ava stayed put.

“You guys go. I’ll stay here.” She yawned. “I’m kinda

tired.”

Jules looked horrified. “It’s only eleven!” She turned to

me. “Rhys, dance with us. You have to make up for this…

blasphemy.” She gestured at where Ava was curled into

Alex’s side while he wrapped a protective arm around her

shoulders. Ava made a face; Alex’s expression didn’t so much

as budge. I’d seen blocks of ice show more emotion than

him.

I remained seated. “I don’t dance.”

“You don’t dance. Alex doesn’t sing. Aren’t you two a

bundle of joy,

” Jules grumbled. “Bridge, do something.”

Bridget glanced at me before looking away. “He’s

working. Come on,

” she teased. “Aren’t Stella and I

enough?”

Jules let out an aggrieved sigh. “I suppose. Way to guilttrip me.”

“I learned the subtle art of guilt-tripping in princess

school.” Bridget pulled her friends onto the dance floor.

“Let’s go.”

To no one’s surprise, Ava and Alex called it a night soon

after, and I sat at the table by myself, keeping half an eye on

the girls and the other half on the rest of the bar. At least, I

tried. My gaze strayed back to Bridget and Bridget alone

more often than I’d like, and not just because she was my

client.

I’d known she would be trouble the minute Christian told

me about my new assignment. Told, not asked, because

Christian Harper dealt in orders, not requests. But we had

enough of a history I could’ve turned down the assignment

had I wanted to—and I’d really fucking wanted to. Me

guarding the Princess of Eldorra when I wanted nothing to

do with Eldorra? Worst idea in the history of bad ideas.

Then I’d looked at the picture of Bridget and saw

something in her eyes that tugged at me. Maybe it was the

hint of loneliness or the vulnerability she tried to hide.

Whatever it was, it was enough for me to say yes, albeit

reluctantly.

Now here I was, stuck with a charge who barely tolerated

me, and vice versa.

You’re a goddamned idiot, Larsen.

But as infuriating as I found Bridget, I had to admit, I

liked seeing her the way she was tonight. Big smile, glowing

face, eyes sparkling with laughter and mischief. None of the

loneliness I’d spotted in the headshot Christian gave me.

She threw her hands in the air and swayed her hips to the

music, and my gaze lingered on the bare expanse of her long,

smooth legs before I tore it away, my jaw tightening.

I’d guarded plenty of beautiful women before, but when I

saw Bridget in person for the first time, I’d reacted in a way I

never had for my previous clients. Blood heating, cock

hardening, hands itching to find out how her golden hair

would feel wrapped around my fist. It’d been visceral,

unexpected, and almost enough to make me walk away from

the job before I started, because lusting after a client could

only end in disaster.

But my pride won out, and I stayed. I just hoped I

wouldn’t regret it.

Jules and Stella said something to Bridget, who nodded

before they left for what I presumed was the bathroom.

They’d been gone for only two minutes when a frat boylooking type in a pink polo shirt beelined toward Bridget

with a determined expression.

My shoulders tensed.

I rose from my seat right as Frat Boy reached Bridget and

whispered something in her ear. She shook her head, but he

didn’t leave.

Something dark unfurled in my stomach. If there was one

thing I hated, it was men who couldn’t take a fucking hint.

Frat Boy reached for Bridget. She pulled her arm away

before he could make contact and said something else, her

expression sharper this time. His face twisted into an ugly

scowl. He reached for her again, but before he could touch

her, I stepped in between them, cutting him off.

“Is there a problem?” I stared down at him.

Frat Boy oozed the entitlement of someone who wasn’t

used to hearing no thanks to Daddy’s money, and he was

either too stupid or too arrogant to realize I was two seconds

away from rearranging his face so thoroughly a plastic

surgeon wouldn’t be able to fix it.

“No problem. I was just asking her to dance.” Frat Boy

eyed me like he was thinking of taking me on.

Definitely stupid.

“I don’t want to dance.” Bridget stepped around me and

stared Frat Boy down herself. “I already told you twice. Don’t

make me tell you a third time. You won’t like what’ll

happen.”

There were times when I could forget Bridget was a

princess, like when she was singing off-key in the shower—

she thought I couldn’t hear her, but I could—or pulling an

all-night study session at the kitchen table.

Now was not one of those times. Regal iciness radiated

from her every pore, and a small, impressed smirk touched

my mouth before I squashed it.

Frat Boy’s ugly scowl remained, but he was outnumbered,

and he knew it. He shuffled off, muttering “Stupid cunt”

under his breath as he did so.

Judging by the way Bridget’s cheeks pinkened, she heard

him. Unfortunately for him, so did I.

He didn’t make it two feet before I grabbed him hard

enough he yelped. One strategic twist of my wrist and I could

break his arm, but I didn’t want to cause a scene, so he was

lucky.

For now.

“What did you say?” A dangerous edge bled into my voice.

Bridget and I weren’t each other’s favorite people, but

that didn’t make it okay for anyone to call her names. Not

under my watch.

It was a matter of principle and basic fucking decency.

“N-nothing.” Frat Boy’s puny brain had finally caught up

with the situation, and his face reddened with panic.

“I don’t think it was nothing.” I tightened my hold, and

he whimpered in pain. “I think you used a very bad word to

insult the lady here.” Another tightening, another whimper.

“And I think you better apologize before the situation

escalates. Don’t you?”

I didn’t need to spell out what escalates meant.

“I’m sorry,

” Frat Boy mumbled to Bridget, who blinked

back at him with an icy expression. She didn’t respond.

“I didn’t hear you,

” I said.

Frat Boy’s eyes flashed with hate, but he wasn’t stupid

enough to argue. “I’m sorry,

” he said louder.

“For what?”

“For calling you a…” He shot a fearful look in my

direction. “For calling you a bad name.”

“And?” I prompted.

His brow creased in confusion.

My smile contained more threat than humor. “Say,

‘I’m

sorry for being a limp-dicked idiot who doesn’t know how to

respect women.’”

I thought I heard Bridget choke back a small laugh, but I

was focused on Frat Boy’s reaction. He looked like he wanted

to punch me with his free hand, and I almost wished he

would. It would be amusing to see him try to reach my face. I

towered over him by a good eight inches, and he had shrimp

arms.

“I’m sorry for being a limp-dicked idiot who doesn’t

know how to respect women.” Resentment poured off him in

waves.

“Do you accept his apology?” I asked Bridget. “If you

don’t, I can take this outside.”

Frat Boy paled.

Bridget tilted her head, her face pensive, and another

shadow of a smile ghosted my mouth. She’s good.

“I suppose,

” she finally said in the tone of someone who

was doing someone else a huge favor. “There’s no use

wasting more of our time on someone insignificant.”

My amusement tempered some of the anger running hot

in my veins at Frat Boy’s earlier comment. “You got lucky.” I

released him. “If I ever see you bothering her or another

woman again…” I lowered my voice. “You might as well

learn how to do everything left-handed because your right

one will be out of commission. Permanently. Now leave.”

I didn’t have to tell him twice. Frat Boy fled, his pink shirt

bobbing in the crowd until he disappeared out the exit.

Good riddance.

“Thank you,

” Bridget said. “I appreciate you dealing with

him, even though it’s frustrating it took someone else to

intervene before he got the hint. Isn’t me saying no

enough?” Her brow puckered with annoyance.

“Some people are idiots, and some people are assholes.” I

stepped aside to allow a group of giggling partygoers past.

“Just so happened you ran into one who was both.”

That earned me a small smile. “Mr. Larsen, I do believe

we’re having a civil conversation.”

“Are we? Someone check the weather in hell,

” I

deadpanned.

Bridget’s smile widened, and I’d be damned if I didn’t feel

a small kick in my gut at the sight.

“How about a drink?” She tilted her head toward the bar.

“On me.”

I shook my head. “I’m on the clock, and I don’t drink

alcohol.”

Surprise flashed across her face. “Ever?”

“Ever.” No drugs, no alcohol, no smoking. I’d seen the

havoc they wreaked, and I had no interest in becoming

another statistic. “Not my thing.”

Bridget’s expression told me she suspected there was

more to the story than I was letting on, but she didn’t press

the issue, which I appreciated. Some people were too damn

nosy.

“Sorry that took so long!” Jules returned with Stella in

tow. “The line at the bathroom was insane.” Her eyes roved

between me and Bridget. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Mr. Larsen was keeping me company while you guys

were gone,

” Bridget said without missing a beat.

“Really?” Jules arched an eyebrow. “How nice of him.”

Neither Bridget nor I took the bait.

“Calm down, J,

” I heard Stella say as I returned to the

table now that I’d handled the situation with Frat Boy and

her friends were back. “It’s his job to look after her.”

Damn right. It was my job, and Bridget was my client.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Bridget glanced at me, and our eyes locked for a split

second before she looked away.

My hand flexed on my thigh.

Sure, I was attracted to her. She was beautiful, smart, and

had a spine of steel. Of course I was attracted to her. That

didn’t mean I should or would act on it.

In my five years as a bodyguard, I’d never once crossed

my professional boundaries.

And I wasn’t about to start now.

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