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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