She nods, and I turn to go.
“Matvey?”
I glance back at her. She smiles wryly. “Be careful. He attacked Petty because of their romantic history. You’ve been seen getting cosy with her, too.”
“I’m not the person I’m worried about,” I mutter, and she nods, waving me away.
My head is spinning as I head back to my car. I don’t know what to do.
Realistically, I know I shouldn’t tell Briar that we’ve identified X. That would be a terrible idea. If one dickpic prompted her to run her mouth in front of tens of thousands of live viewers, God knows how she’ll react when she finds out he’s been cooking up bombs in his motel room. I can practically see it unfolding in front of me: if I tell her everything we know about X, she’ll insist on attending the premiere. She’ll probably use herself as bait to lure him out. And then she’ll try to confront him. She’ll yell at him and humiliate him, and then he’ll probably blow her up.
As a bodyguard, your job isn’t only to protect the principal from external threats; you also have to protect them from themselves. And quite often, that means withholding information. If I suspect that Briar will put herself in danger if I tell her the news about X, it’s in myjob descriptionnot to tell her.
The only problem is, when she finds out that I lied to her, she’s going to absolutely hate me.
It surprises me how much that thought terrifies me.
I grit my teeth, pulling open the car door and sliding inside. This is ridiculous. The only reason I’m even debating this is because I was stupid enough to get involved with Briar. I’m not letting my feelings for a client get in the way of her safety. Not ever. Even if it means destroying the fragile relationship we’ve started, I’m not putting her life in danger. Even if she ends up hating me, I’m not letting her die.
I care about her far too much for that.
Forty
Briar
?
“What do you think?” I ask, twisting in the mirror to examine my dress from the back. “Too much?”
Julie looks up from her spot on my bed. She’s been curled up in my bedroom for the last couple of hours, frantically answering emails and texts as I get ready for the premiere. As she glances me over, the straw of her iced coffee falls out of her lips.
“Ho. Ly. Shit.” She says slowly.
I smile. “Yeah. I thought so, too.”
I’d originally planned on wearing a trouser suit tonight. I didn’t like the idea of parading around in revealing outfits, just so X can dream of me sucking him off. But when I tried the suit on, I felt flat. Weak. Like I was hiding.So I called my LA stylists, and they hooked me up with this little beauty. It’s a blood-red bodycon made of a thick, stretchy scuba material. The fabric clings to my hips and waist, wrapping around me as tight as cling film. The really impressive part, though, is what it does to my boobs. The neckline is low and square, and the built-in support means that the amount of cleavage is astonishing.
I feel great in it. Hot. Strong. Powerful. I can’t wait for the guys to see me in it.
Just as the thought crosses my mind, there’s a knock at the door. Glen steps inside, holding a small boutique bag. He stops in the doorway, staring at me. His eyes run up and down my body, freezing on my chest.
“Jesus.” He runs a hand over his face. “Seriously? You expect us to be able to concentrate on our jobs, with you wearingthat?”
I can’t hold back my smile. “You’re a big boy. You can keep your hands out of your pants and your eyes on the crowd.”
He swallows thickly and takes a step towards me. I feel goosebumps raise over my skin as his eyes zero in on my boobs. When he reaches me, he trails his fingertip very lightly over the neckline.
I ignore the growing heat under my skin, and nod at the little bag he’s holding. It’s clearly from a fancy shop; the lettering is embossed in gold, and the handles are made from silky cream ribbons. “What’s that?”
He clears his throat. “We all got you something. We picked it out online, and then Kenta collected it from the store this morning. It’s a late birthday present.”
My eyes widen. “Really?” He nods, handing it to me. I carefully pull apart the layers of sparkly tissue paper to reveal a small flat box.
I glance up at Glen. His face flushes.
I open up the box. Nestled on the velvet cushion inside is a necklace. I lift it out carefully. A rose-shaped pendant swings from the fine silver chain, glimmering softly under the bedroom light. The petals are made of pale pink crystals, surrounded by delicately twisting thorns.
“You don’t have to wear it tonight. I don’t know if it goes with your dress. And you probably already have jewellery that you’re supposed to wear. But—”
