Chapter 1 The Client from Hell
The Client from Hell
TERRANCE
“You’ll be staying at the client’s estate north of Ardaine, in Brentwood. They’re offering you a private suite, all meals provided. There’s cleaning staff, access to a gym, indoor and outdoor swimming pools, a sauna, and a tennis court.”
Listing the over-the-top perks of my new assignment, my boss appeared sheepish. Devon Hassel, the head of Cassidy and Hassel Security, was usually straight to the point. And he never looked sheepish.
“Do you play tennis?” he asked, lifting his eyes from the screen.
“No.”
“Maybe you can learn?”
I just stared at him. My experience said that if the icing was this sweet, the cake would taste awful. Whatever this new assignment was, I wasn’t going to like it.
“Anyway, moving on,” Devon muttered as he scrolled and tapped on the tablet.
“The client’s manager wants you to start tomorrow.
I’m aware it’s only been a week since the job at the Sullivans’ ended, but I need you to handle this one.
I negotiated an extra week of vacation for you later, when the client might be at an event in Europe. ”
“Will you finally tell me who it is?”
“I want you to keep an open mind.”
I respected the hell out of my boss, but I was running out of patience. “Who?”
Devon folded his arms on the table and met my gaze before saying the two damning words. “Lothair Courtemanche.”
Well, shit.
My eyebrows went up, but I managed to remain in my chair. “He wants security? That man needs a basic sense of self-preservation, not a bodyguard!”
Lothair Courtemanche was a dragon alpha in his thirties, a famous stuntman, actor, and underwear model, among many other things.
He’d also been the most mentioned name in the tabloids for the past couple of years, by a good margin.
He seemed like he could take care of himself—at least when he wasn’t speeding through a desert on a rocket-fueled car, jumping off a bridge, or intentionally putting himself in other types of mortal danger for fame and money.
Devon ignored my outburst. “Courtemanche has received a pile of threats recently. His manager insists on improved security measures, including around-the-clock detail.”
“Does his manager know he’s working for a dragon shifter?”
“No. The manager is human, like most people who work for Courtemanche. He turned to us because of our reputation.”
“I’m going to be babysitting a hyperactive egomaniac with a death wish.”
Devon smirked. “You said working for Leonard Sullivan had been boring.”
“It was just cupcakes, hair salons, and waiting around photography studios. But I like Leo. We’re friends.”
“Maybe you’ll learn to like Lothair Courtemanche.”
“Did you know he bragged about how many men he bedded last year?”
“Yeah? How many?”
“One hundred and thirty-three.”
“Interesting fact for you to memorize.”
I pursed my lips. Busted. I found Lothair oddly fascinating—in a perverse, half-amused, half-horrified way—so I followed some of his craziest antics on social media. It didn’t mean I wanted to follow him around in real life. Quite the opposite.
Devon put his tablet aside and folded his arms. I knew by the look on his face that he wouldn’t budge an inch.
“Tabloids make up stories like that all the time. You can’t really know who he is until you’ve met him.”
“He hosts sex parties. Am I expected to accompany him at those?”
My boss quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to? It beats hair salons.”
I glowered at him, but Devon just smiled back.
“Give him a chance. I agree he’s probably a self-centered prick, but if anyone can handle him, it’s you. And if, after a month, you hate his guts to the point you’re inclined to kill him yourself, I’ll take you off his account with no hard feelings.”
This was why I loved working for Cassidy and Hassel.
“What time do they want me to be there?”
The mansion was precisely what I’d expected—an outrageous waste of space. Three stories of the most opulent architecture stood surrounded by a sprawling park that must have required an army of gardeners to maintain.
I left my car in the circular driveway next to a bright-orange convertible and ran up the stairs. Two statues of dragons guarded the double door, their muzzles snarling and wings flapping. I shook my head, chuckling at the decor. Lothair was such a poser.
It was disturbing how easily I’d entered his home. The guard at the gate had waved me forward without even looking into my car properly, and now the front door stood wide open. I walked through, eyeing the security camera in the corner. It seemed to be on. That was something, at least.
The space led into a bright atrium where two curved staircases met in the middle. To the left was a hallway with several closed doors, and to the right spread a living room area with a library. At the other end, another double door stood ajar, flanked by bookshelves on both sides.
I wouldn’t have guessed the notorious Lothair Courtemanche was an avid reader, but maybe I’d underestimated him. Nah. Most probably, the books were a part of the interior design. I’d bet that if I tried pulling one out, they would all be empty spines, like plastic fruit on a kitchen counter.
“Hello?” I called, and my voice echoed in the empty space. No reply.
I walked through the living room and closer to the open double doors. That could be a study or an office. Maybe I’d find Lothair there. The meeting was supposed to start at ten, and my watch showed two minutes past. He must be expecting me.
I frowned at four empty cocktail glasses and a couple of liquor bottles on a coffee table in front of a white leather sofa. Someone had thrown a crinkled white shirt over the backrest, and one of the pillows lay on the carpet. The scene looked like the aftermath of a small party. On a Tuesday?
Lothair’s manager had been adamant I needed to be here first thing in the morning, and now Lothair was going to stand me up because he’d been up late partying. It fit his public image perfectly.
“Hello!” I called again.
A muffled sound came from what I assumed was the office.
Annoyed and out of patience, I pushed the door open…and I froze.
Right before me was an omega’s rosy ass, round and beautiful, cheeks parted invitingly in pure erotic perfection. His hole gaped, white cum clinging to the stretched rim. He lay sprawled over a low two-seater, and he seemed to be half asleep in post-orgasmic lethargy.
I was too shocked to do anything but stare.
The scene unfolded as I scanned the room, my mind blank.
A tall, muscular alpha stood to the right with his back to me, pounding away into a slim omega bent over a desk, his butt cheeks bunching up with the effort.
The omega whined and moaned, gripping his ass with both hands and spreading himself out eagerly.
Yet another young man crouched on the desk, his ass in the alpha’s face.
The alpha ate out one asshole and fucked another while his previous conquest watched lazily from the corner.
The omega he was fucking came on a wail and slumped over the desk.
The alpha pulled out of him and grabbed the other boy, lifting him effortlessly off the desk and manhandling him onto the floor.
In the process, he’d turned, and with his side to me, I recognized him from the abundance of images and movies I’d seen.
It was, of course, Lothair Courtemanche.
His dick swung between his legs, thick and long with no pubic hair or foreskin.
An unmated dragon’s cock, slathered with juices.
He pushed the small omega into the carpet with one hand and pulled up his ass with the other.
He lined up and pressed inside, a predatory smile on his face.
Snapping his hips forward, he lifted his head and spotted me in the doorway.
His surprise lasted only a second. Then he grinned.
“I’m almost done here. Wait in the living room, please,” he said in a bored tone, and thrust hard, making the omega yelp. “Unless you want to join in?”
That snapped me out of it.
I spun around and banged the door shut.
Christ.
I knew Lothair was a piece of work, but this gig would be more difficult than I’d thought.
My dick was hard even as disgust soured my stomach. I found a restroom by the atrium. After splashing my face with cold water, I considered jerking off.
In a client’s bathroom on my first day? How unprofessional would that be? I scoffed. More unprofessional than hosting an orgy in your office when you should be having a meeting?
That man was fucking three omegas in there. At ten in the morning.
What the hell?
After cooling myself down with more water, I dried myself carefully, smoothed my hair back, and straightened my tie. When I was sure no trace of my momentary weakness was noticeable, I walked back to the living room.
The door to the office opened ten minutes later.
Three exceedingly pretty omegas not more than twenty years old walked out, flushed, with freshly fucked, beaming faces and disheveled hair.
They wore identical sheer tops, tight dark pants, and high boots.
One of them licked his lips as he passed me, and another winked as he plucked the rumpled shirt from the sofa’s backrest. I nodded stiffly in greeting, trying to keep my face impassive, which made them giggle as they hurried through the atrium.
A dreamy sigh came from behind me.
“Dancers… I fucking love dancers. Love fucking them too.”
I turned to face my new client.
Lothair stood at the door to his office, wearing nothing but white boxer briefs. They hugged his hips and outlined his dick, which seemed to be half hard. A wet spot adorned the front of them.
I swallowed, my tie suddenly too tight around my neck.
For fuck’s sake. Shake it off, Harbinger. You’ve dealt with worse trainwrecks than this guy.
I rose, not trying to keep my annoyance in check when I greeted him.
“Good morning, Mr. Courtemanche. Are you ready for our meeting now?” I eyed his outfit meaningfully.
Lothair’s violet eyes flashed as he scanned me up and down and up again. “I’m ready. All relaxed and in an excellent mood. You’re Terrance, the bodyguard my manager hired.”
He walked up to me and offered me his hand. I didn’t take it. “Are you going to wash your hands, perhaps?”
Lothair withdrew and sniffed his fingers. “Mm-hmm. You’re probably right. I smell like a horny ass.” I wrinkled my nose, which made him laugh.
“C’mon, Terrance. Let’s talk.”
It was going to be a long day.