Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEA
I’m lying on my bed with my schoolbooks out, but nothing is holding my interest, so I text my friend instead.
Posy: I think it’s cool you have a bodyguard.
I shake my head; my poor friend is in a dream world.
Me: You would.
Posy: At least your father is showing he cares.
I scoff. Cares? Cares about his investment, more like. The last thing he wants is little me not just decreasing in value but plummeting into the orbit.
Me: He wants me alive so his investments don’t tank.
It might be blunt, but it’s true.
Posy: Ever the optimist.
Me: It’s true.
Posy: Tell me more about the mafia man.
Me: I never said he was mafia.
She’s aware my father deals with Mafia business, and I made her pinky swear to secrecy the moment she witnessed some of my father’s shady business associates at one of my mother’s lavish dinner balls. Being my best friend since I started kindergarten, she’s the only person I can confide in.
Posy: Is he?
Me: Probably.
Posy: Is he hot?
Me: Very.
Posy: You’re so lucky.
I snort. Only Posy could think I was lucky, but then I consider that I’m going to be alone for six weeks, and smile.
Posy: Is he staying while your father is away?
My stomach sinks. Jesus, how could I forget that? I’m not going to be alone after all. I drop my head back against the pillow with a groan.
Posy: Please tell me he is.
Me: Yes.
Posy: At least you’ll have the hot bodyguard to keep you company.
I chew on my bottom lip. She’s right, at least he’s good to look at. Massio is all man, and the authoritarian way he speaks sends a rush of anticipation through me.
He’s not like the boys at school. He’s strong, solid, and experienced.
Me: I’m screwed.
Posy: You mean you need to be screwed?
A laugh bursts from my chest.
Me: He doesn’t even like me.
Posy: How do you know?
Me: He called me a brat.
His words linger in my mind, and heat gathers in my stomach when I consider how he said he would spank me.
Posy: That’s kind of hot.
Oh, sweet Jesus. She’s right, it is.
Posy: He might want to punish you.
Why does reading that excite me so much?
Posy: Besides. You are a brat.
I smile from ear to ear at her honesty before sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.
She’s right, I can be … trying, to say the least. Still, I don’t know how I feel about someone calling me a brat within minutes of meeting me.
He’s assuming, just like everyone else does, and that irks me more than I care to admit.
Me: I’m going to go. I need food.
Posy: Okay. Night.
Me: Night.
My stomach rumbles louder, so I push off the bed and head toward the kitchen.