“So, what? You’re going to keep tabs on me? Daily check-ins?”
I try to make it sound ridiculous, because it is!
“There! Dieu merci. I find you, finally!” The stilted English comes from behind me moments before an arm loops around my waist and someone tugs me backward off my feet.
What the—
Belatedly I realize it’s Boréal holding me against his body like we’re long-lost lovers. My toes dangle helplessly off the ground.
I’d actually completely forgotten about the guy. I didn’t even tell Simone about him asking for my number. Earlier, I watched him a little during his set. He was great with the crowd, captivating everyone and building the energy inside Aura until it felt like the whole place was charged with an electric current.
But obviously throughout the night, he’s indulged in something orsomethings. The alcohol at least I can smell on his breath.
“You are good?” he asks me in his heavy French accent.
Cristiano replies before I can. “She’s fine. Put her down.”
“Yes, please—” I try to wiggle out of his grasp to help defuse the situation, but he doesn’t let up. For being so stick thin, he’s surprisingly strong. He whispers something into my hair that I can’t quite make out. I think it’s in French.
Oh god. He’s really tipsy.Or worse.
“I was wanting your number earlier, but they wouldn’t give it out.”
“Put her down,” Cristiano commands, harsher this time.
I’ve never heard him sound quite so intense. A shiver racks down my spine that has nothing to do with Boréal. Cristiano’stry metone makes me very much want totry him.
I pat Boréal’s arm. “You really should put me down,” I say simply.
The DJ smirks at Cristiano. “You are the bodyguard?”
His French accent twiststheintoze.
My eyes widen as Cristiano steps closer to us. Apparently he’s done with words, and I think he’s about to get physical with Boréal. Fortunately Ramón arrives just in time. He takes a position slightly behind Cristiano, waiting for Cristiano’s command to proceed.
Cristiano juts his chin toward the DJ. “Escort our friend out to his driver and make sure he leaves.”
Boréal spits on the floor, then curses in French. I guess he doesn’t like the idea of getting escorted off the premises, but at least he finally lets go of me. I didn’t realize just how tightly he was gripping me, and now my lungs can expand again. Arrogant asshole. If Ramón wasn’t escorting him off the premises, I would be!
Ramón nods for Boréal to get going, and then two other security guards flank the Frenchman as he walks out of the club. He doesn’t look back at me even once, but he does ask one of the security guards for a cigarette.
I watch them until they reach the front door, then I look back to find Cristiano studying me. He still wears some of his rage. Hereally didn’t like the DJ manhandling me like that, and I realize now I’ve basically given him all the proof he needs concerning my ability to take care of myself on Ibiza.
I roll my eyes playfully. “Aside fromthisscenario, I assure you I don’t need someone to watch out for me. French DJs very rarely accost me. That’s only the second or third time it’s happened this year.”
My joke melts away the last of his residual anger as he scrubs a hand down his face. “Enough. It’s late. Let’s go. I’ll drive you and your friends home.”
I frown, confused. “You think they’re still here?”
Surely they took off already.
He waves for me to take the lead as he nods. “I see them poking their little heads out from the side of the stairs. They were listening to us the whole time.”
Lo and behold, he’s right. At least Annika and Simone have the decency to look busy when we walk over. Annika’s gripping a mop and “cleaning” a patch of floor over and over again, and Simone is pointing out areas she’s “missed.”
“Not clean enough!” Simone shouts at her like a harsh taskmaster before making a big production of seeming surprised when she sees us.
I hold up my hand to stop her before she can say anything. “Let’s go. Cristiano is giving us a ride home.”
