He’s such a mystery. I don’t know why I’m trying to understand him. I should be grateful he’s erected this wall between us. I don’t want to be responsible for another man’s death, and it could happen so easily. If the Russians come after me, will DiAngelo give his life to save mine? What if he’d been at my place and inspected that box for me? Would he already be dead?
The thought cinches a vise tight around my ribs until my breath comes in shallow pants.
My vision blurs.
I can’t do this here. I have to shut out the thoughts.
I envision myself back in my apartment, alone, with the subtle shift of candlelight warming me from the inside out. After a few minutes, I lose myself in the movements until class is over, escaping the clutches of panic this time around.
“Hey, Rina! You going to keep coming to the class? I’d love for you to come more often.” My friend Morgan joins me as I pack up my gear.
“My schedule’s a bit wonky lately, so I’ll probably be all over the place.”
Her eyes cut to DiAngelo. “Yeah, seems like you’ve got a lot going on. You okay?” she whispers the last part.
I can only imagine what she must think—probably something along the lines of a crazy, possessive boyfriend in my life. Why else would I have a man sit through class with me?
“Yes, I promise! I know it probably looks odd,” I try to assure her. “He’s my bodyguard and takes his job a little too seriously.”
Her eyes bulge. “Whoa! Why do you need security? You some sort of secret princess?”
I have to laugh, which is a nice reprieve. “Nah, just my family being cautious.” I lead her toward the lobby and into the gift shop area.
Her gaze continues to drift back to DiAngelo. “Well, sure looks like you hit the bodyguard jackpot. Mr. Muscles and Tats could guard my body any day.”
She’s joking. I know she’s joking.
DiAngelo is undeniably attractive if you like the Hulk sort of look. And I’m irritated with him, so it shouldn’t bother me that Morgan is ogling him, but it does. The thorny tendrils of jealousy sprout like vines encircling my arms and legs, squeezing.
“Yeah, he’s pretty to look at, but you know the prettiest ones are always gay.” Smug satisfaction relaxes my shoulders as the words fly past my lips.
Morgan purses her lips. “Crap, I should’ve known.” She shrugs, then lifts a pair of black leggings from a rack. “These are so crazy cute. I’ve been eyeing them for ages, but don’t have the body for them. You would look amazing in them.” She holds thepants still on a hanger up against my lower half. The waist is a V-cut, meant to expose the belly button and below.
That will never happen.
I only wear high-waisted leggings, but I don’t feel like explaining myself, so I focus on her instead.
“What? You could totally pull these off. Seriously, you should get them.”
“You think?” she asks, bringing the pants to rest against her body.
“I think so, but you’re the only one who can decide what you’re comfortable wearing. Personally, I say wear what you like and don’t worry about what other people think.”
Her eyes light up. “You know? You’re right. I’m going to do it.” She gives me a one-armed hug. “I’m so glad I ran into you. Hopefully, you’ll come to more afternoon classes.”
“Same! And I’m bound to at some point. You take care.”
“You, too!”
Our exchange has an unexpected smile taking up residence on my face until I lock eyes with DiAngelo, who’s glowering at me from across the room. It seems I’ve taken up enough of his precious time.
Not wanting to anger the beast further, I join him at the door. “I’m ready to leave, now,” I say haughtily. If I have to look like uptight royalty, I might as well act like it.
His chin lowers, casting his eyes further into shadow before he leans in toward me.
“Act like a brat, and you’ll be treated like one,” he drawls in a deviously dark tone.
Every molecule of moisture evaporates from my mouth, and something dangerously delicious stirs in my belly.
