Thatcher turns to Farrow. “Where are the NDAs of everyone he’s been intimate with while you’ve been his bodyguard?”Fucking Christ.“Because you’ve filed zero.”
“There are no NDAs.” Farrow doesn’t even miss a beat, taking charge of the situation. “He’s been with the same girl, and he’s wanted to keep it private.”
“Thepurposeof an NDA is to further protect his privacy.”
“Private from the security team,” Farrow clarifies, maybe lying on the fly. “It’s a girl his parents wouldn’t approve of.”
Thatcher looks to me.
I nod once. Still pissed. I want the whole security team out of my bedroom. Now. Even my fake bedroom with a fake girl that I’m fake-fucking and who’s fake-biting me.
“Maximoff,” Thatcher says, “if she sues you, you’re in for a nightmare. Whoever this girl is, it’s much better to get her to sign an NDA. Your parents are understanding.”
“She won’t sue me. I trust her, and that’s all I have to say.” I’m done. “This conversation is over. If you have something else to ask me, go ahead. If it involves sex, don’t even speak.”
“That was it.” Thatcher stands and then stares down Farrow. “Anything happens to him. It’s on you.”
“Loud and clear,” Farrow says, not breaking their shared glare.
It’s not on Farrow. I’m responsible for my own actions. My own life. If I step into quicksand, I wouldn’t blame anyone but me.
25
FARROW KEENE
I finish bandaging my arms,and Maximoff goes to check on Jane and make a few family calls upstairs. We can’t speak, not with security everywhere. For a full hour, I rehash tonight’s events to the Tri-Force in numb detail.
Then, they let me go.
Find Maximoff.It’s all I’ve wanted to do.Find Maximoff. Find him.
Be with him.
I head to the staircase. Passing three Alpha bodyguards, they pat my shoulder and tell me, “Good job.” Another says, “Quick hands.”
They congratulate me because the guy I pinned to the cement had ahandgunon him. I had to disarm him, and most of SFA believes the two guys could’ve easily made a U-turn to Maximoff and Jane’s townhouse if they weren’t caught.
I ascend the narrow staircase, my head whirling. And not because of booze. Nothing could’ve sobered me faster than tonight’s misadventure.
I reach the second floor, the bathroom door cracked. Maximoff has a hand on the sink, his phone to his ear.
“I love you too…I know, Mom.”
I lean on the doorway while he finishes his call, and his forest-greens melt against mine. His bottom lip is split. His cheekbone starts to bruise, and beneath his eye, a reddish, purple tint forms. Almost like he was punched.
My stomach twists in brutal knots, and a rock wedges in my throat. I separated the bodyguard part of myself for one moment, and it hit me full-force tonight. That I’m seriously falling for someone whose life is threatened daily. Unconscionably. More than an actor. More than most celebrities.
He’s Americanroyalty.Fame from birth.
A type of notoriety that incites hatred and disbelief. Where people shout,why are they famous?!Where people decree,undeserving!
Where pranks leave scars and threats verge on crimes and the cost could be lives.
And I care about him. Shit, I care whether he’s hurt or in pain or if he needs me. Unfavorable opinion time: I wish he would’ve let the cats die.
And then I don’t. Because he wouldn’t be Maximoff Hale if he didn’t run after the little bastards. He wouldn’t be Maximoff Hale if he didn’t care about Jane and his entire family.
He wouldn’t be the guy I can’t stop staring at. Can’t stop thinking about. He’d be someone else. Someone that I would’ve never even thought to kiss.
