Chapter 4
4
Karl
W e’re at the Degas Hotel, seated at a secluded table within the Parisienne, the hotel’s five-star restaurant. There’s only a pitcher of sweating water at the table, but Ainsley doesn’t ask for food.
“Who are you?” she demands in a low voice. “How do you know who I am? Where did you come from?”
I shoot her a sardonic look. The curvy girl’s still got my jacket on, and I know why. It’s because of that fucking dress, or should I say lack of a dress. When she took her fur coat off on the red carpet, my jaw plunged to the ground, as did every man within a five hundred foot radius because Ainsley was basically naked beneath her coat. Her dress isn’t much more than a sheer tube of stretchy material, exposing her tits, ass, and pussy. Hell, I could see the heft of her breasts, as well as the delicate dark vee between her thighs. No wonder her brother hired me to keep an eye on things. After this stunt, Patrick O’Lachlan likely wants to make sure that his sister is marched straight to a convent for safekeeping.
“Your brother sent me,” I growl. “I’m Karl Andersen. Nice to meet you.”
Ainsley’s rage is immediate, her cheeks going pink. Hell, her entire face is going pink, which is an interesting contrast to her fire-red hair.
“ I knew it !” she swears. “My fucking brother! Patrick always thinks he can meddle in my business, but I don’t need a babysitter! I’m old enough and I can look after myself—” she announces before standing abruptly at the table.
“ Sit ,” I bite out, my blue eyes shooting sparks.
Ainsley drops back in her seat like a rag doll, although the expression on her features isn’t exactly obedient.
“Fine,” she grunts. “Tell me more. Why did my brother send you?”
There’s a pregnant pause at the table.
“Do you really need to ask?” I growl, my black brows raising. “After what just happened?”
“Okay, so today was a circus,” Ainsley acknowledges. “I fell at the fashion show, and you caught me, and then yes, this dress is a little much. But Justin wanted me to wear it, and you know he’s a rap superstar with his own line of clothing. Prowler sold two billion in revenue last year, so he knows what he’s doing when it comes to presentation.”
I raise a black brow.
“Well, your so-called boyfriend is crashing and burning, and taking you with him, sweetheart. After that WLM jacket today, I don’t think anyone’s going to buy his shit.”
Ainsley’s quiet for a moment, biting her lip.
“Yeah, Justin’s been having some issues with Adirite, who manufactures his stuff. They’ve expressed some discomfort with his antics,” she says in a stiff voice.
I shoot her a meaningful look.
“I think it’s more than antics at this point. That dude is spewing misogynistic, anti-Semitic rants, and you’re a pawn that he’s using.”
“No, I’m not ,” Ainsley bites out, her green gaze shooting sparks. “I’m my own woman.”
I shake my head.
“Well, your brother certainly doesn’t think so. News of Justin West’s rants are international news. His shit is covered in Europe and Patrick isn’t exactly happy to see his younger sister featured in the tabloids while simultaneously being branded as a misogynistic, anti-Semitic woman.”
“But I’m not those things!” Ainsley sputters. “I just happen to be standing next to Justin at red carpet events. It’s not me. It’s him .”
“Then it’s guilt by association,” I shrug. “Nothing in life is fair, but at the same time, you’re not exactly stopping him either. But I don’t think anyone expects you to stop him, sweetheart, because it’s clear that dude has serious mental health issues. What worries your brother is that you’re being controlled by Justin West. That fucker is a billionaire, and he’s used to manipulating people and situations. I’m sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but your boyfriend is manipulating you .”
“No, he’s not,” Ainsley hisses under her breath, her small fists clutching the edge of the table so hard that the knuckles are white. “Justin cares about me. Yes, his capers are a little off-beat and out there—”
“A little ?” I ask sardonically. “That fucker had ‘White Lives Matter’ written on his jacket in rhinestones, sweetheart. It was practically visible from outer space.”
“Okay, a lot,” Ainsley concedes. “But it’s not me! It’s him, and I know how to take care of myself. You don’t need to follow me around like a fucking puppy dog—”
“Oh, I’m not a puppy dog, sweetheart,” I retort in a silky tone. “I’m a bodyguard. Don’t you get it? Your brother’s hired me to look out for you, and so I’m your new best friend.”
The blood drains from her lovely features.
“No,” Ainsley breathes.
“Yes,” I retort with a smirk on my face. “I’ll be in the room when you use the facilities. I’ll be in the room when you’re making sweet love with Justin. I’ll be watching as he pounds your butt, hammering your asshole from behind before turning you around and —”
“You beast !” Ainsley rages, jumping to her feet as her red hair comes loose from its coil. It’s a magnificent sight, the flaming tresses resembling a rippling curtain of red silk as she glares at me. “You’ll do no such thing. Stay away from me!” she rages. “Never look at me again!”
Then, she storms off, on her way up to her suite at the Degas. Yes, Patrick O’Lachlan is paying to put his sister up in luxury because it’s no big deal to the billionaire to fork over a fortune to keep his sister in a five-star hotel. Even better, he’s put me up in a suite as well because it’s my job to stick close to the curvy temptress ... whether she likes it or not.