Chapter 22
TERINA
Present
The second DiAngelo disappears after reprimanding me about feeding Bonny, I give the dog my entire slice of toast, just to spite him. Being angry is easier than being hurt, and damn did his comment sting.
I hate that I’m wreaking havoc on his life. I hate it more than he could ever know. That’s why I wasn’t over the moon about anyone serving as my bodyguard. I don’t want the taint of my life spilling over onto anyone else. Ever.
What I don’t get is why he lashed out. It wasn’t about the dog, that’s for sure. And tensions between us had settled after the snake incident. We spent most of the day in peaceful coexistence. All I can figure is that the outburst stemmed from his unexpected appearance in the bedroom last night.
He hadn’t seemed angry about what I was doing—his thoughts seemed more concerned about his lack of involvement. Why would that upset him? I don’t get the sense he feels unjustly entitled. So why was he upset?
I have no freaking clue.
And I’m not feeling particularly forgiving about his behavior. He doesn’t get to treat me like crap when I’ve had no say in any of this. If he has a problem with his bodyguard assignment, he can damn well take it up with my brother.
“Come on, Bonny, let’s get cleaned up.”
Determined not to let DiAngelo get me down, I take my coffee and my new furry best friend to the bathroom with me. Bonny and I have hit it off exceptionally well, which tickles me to no end. She may be the best part of this whole fiasco.
Bonny lies on the cool stone floor while I do my hair and makeup. We listen to Olivia Dean croon about how easy it is to fall in love with me. I sing along. It’s a good reminder that I’m the only person I need.
While finishing up, I realize that my nails are in desperate need of painting. Grabbing one of the cosmetic bags I threw together, I sit on the floor to see what polishes I brought with me. I know there has to be a couple buried in the bag somewhere.
Not wanting to be left out, Bonny gets up and clacks across the floor to join me. She lies with her front paws extended as if showing off her chunky black nails.
“Oh, Bon Bon. Do you need your nails painted, too? You’d look beautiful in red.”
She makes a playful noise and scoots a tiny bit closer. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was goading me.
“I couldn’t. He’d go ballistic.”
Again, Bonny whines. She even lays her head down as though begging me to dress her up.
“Well, let me see what the internet says. I don’t want to hurt you.” I’m glad I took the time to check because it turns out human polish is dangerous for dogs.
Duly noted.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. There are other options.” Who am I to deny a girl some pampering? That would be cruel when nontoxic doggy polishes exist and can be delivered to our door tomorrow.
“If your daddy still has a stick up his butt tomorrow, you get a spa day,” I sing to her, scratching her head.
Bonny wags her tail, which shakes her entire back end. I think we’re both equally excited.
I’m not super familiar with today’s yoga class. I see one girl I know and chat with her briefly before the instructor begins. The lights dim, and I notice DiAngelo bring in a folding chair from the lobby. He plants himself in the seat.
Last week, he waited in the lobby. Is he planning to station himself in the workout room from now on? What on earth will everyone think?
My gaze darts to the class instructor, who has taken notice but appears to be moving on anyway. I dash over to D, trying not to make a scene.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a hushed whisper.
“Same thing I’ve done for the past week—keeping an eye on you.”
“You didn’t stand in here last week.”
“You hadn’t been specifically targeted last week.”
“DiAngelo, no one is going to hurt me in here. Look around. They’re here for yoga, not murder.”
He remains rooted to the spot, ignoring me.
My teeth clench tightly together.
“Fine,” I hiss.
It’s not like I have a lot of options, so I return to my mat and sync up with the instructor’s movements. I can feel DiAngelo’s surly presence in the back of the room and wonder if everyone else is as painfully aware of my bodyguard acting like the Secret Service during our hour-long class.
The worst part of all? I sense his eyes on me, and it reminds me of last night.
He got off watching me. I saw the enormous bulge in his underwear—the room was dark, but not that dark.
He was hard as a rock, and knowing how intensely I was affecting him was a dizzying drug injected directly into my bloodstream.
And the way he sucked my fingers?
God, it was like he couldn’t get enough.
Touch yourself again in my bed, and I’ll take that as an invitation.
His parting statement seemed pretty clear, but the emotions tied up in it still confuse me. He was so damn cold to me this morning. Why?
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 the pants 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.
Here’s me thinking I’d test the limits of my authority, only to realize I’ve brought toy swords to a gun fight.
I swallow. “Lead the way.”
God, that impervious smirk. What I wouldn’t give to smack it right off his face.
I tally one for DiAngelo, but assure myself I’m nowhere near done with this war.