I bite my lip, holding back the urge to stomp my heel. “Tyler, this is not a joke. I’m in trouble, and this is my way out.”
He casually shoves his hand in the pocket of his hot security guard pants. “I told you, Mira, it’s to my advantage to keep you safe, so you can move out. Which means I’m not letting anything happen to you while we’re living together.”
All the anger melts from my body. “Why? We both know how you feel about me. Why are you doing this?”
He takes in the red wrap dress I borrowed from Cali, his gaze moving on down to my legs—where it lingers. He shrugs. “Do you know how I feel about you?”
I thought I knew, but the way he’s looking at me and the way my chest is rising and falling at the expression in his eyes… I’m confused.
Tyler may recognize the attraction I have for him, may even feel some of it in return, but he’d never act on it. He doesn’t trust me, and he’s made it clear that he’s moved on.
The floor numbers spring up the digital display before settling. The elevator doors open. “You used me, which I didn’t mind, by the way.” He winks. “But I really don’t want to live with you. No offense.”
“I didn’t use you,” I tell him, and walk into the reception area.
I wanted to have sex with Tyler, because I was young and thought I loved him. Of course, he doesn’t know that. He thinks I slept around.
Tyler was going to leave. He was being an ass to me, accusing me of sleeping with other guys—I used it as the excuse I needed to run and protect my heart. To leave him before he left me.
“Doesn’t matter if you used me or not. I was willing,” he says.
We stop in front of the reception desk, sizing each other up.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asks. It takes me a second to register that she’s talking to us.
“I’m Mira Frasier, the new assistant to Hayden Tate.”
“And I’m Tyler Morgan. New floor guard.”
The receptionist looks from me to Tyler, her gaze skipping down Tyler’s uniformed chest in a stealthy glance. “We’ve never had guards up here, but you’ve come at the right time. They’re letting someone go this morning, and he needs an escort. You think you can handle it?”
“I’m here to serve,” Tyler says, and whips out a charming smile.
The receptionist grins, barely cracking the plaster of makeup she’s wearing.
I might hurl.
“Right this way, Mr. Morgan.” Her mouth turns down. “Ms. Frasier, please have a seat. I’ll let Ms. Tate know you’re here.”
I want to tell her there’s no need, because I remember the way to Hayden’s office, but I sit and wait. Violet—that’s not really her name, but it’s what I’m calling her in my mind from now on—is too distracted by the handsome new guard to pay me any attention.
Tyler said he’s doing this to make sure I’m safe so I can move out as soon as possible, but this is extreme. Especially when he seemed content to wile away his days on his computer and his nights drinking beer and hooking up.
I don’t care what Tyler thinks—I don’t need his protection. And forget Violet, who’s decided to go MIA so she can drool over Tyler. I don’t need her escort to Hayden’s office. Hayden’s expecting me. She can’t be offended if I show up at her door.
I stand and walk down the corridor. Rounding the corner to Hayden’s hallway, I catch sight of Tyler. Escorting Denim Jacket.
I go stock-still, frozen in the middle of the hallway.
Denim Jacket leers at me as they approach. I scoot to the side of the hall, my shoulder pressing the cold, white surface. “Back so soon?” he says as he and Tyler near.
I swallow the dry ball in the back of my throat and try to hold his gaze. He walks past me, a smirk on his face.
Tyler stops. “Hey, you okay?”
I nod, though my heart is racing. I don’t know why this bully affected me above all the others I’ve encountered in my life—kids in school, my mother’s ex-boyfriends—but he did. He does.
“You don’t look okay.” Tyler glances after his charge, who’s making steady progress toward the exit. “Is it that guy? You know him?”
