Chapter Nineteen
Roman
“Love me, hate me, I bet you want to fuck me. Up against the wall, in the shower, in the back of your Porsche, baby, it’s your call…”
We all know the fucking song by heart, but Kairo isn’t just after the enchanting, seductive vocals.
He’s bookmarked the damn video on every streaming platform imaginable.
It features the woman we bullied in high school, naked, but covered by the expertly placed shadows created by the production crew as she crawls towards the camera with siren eyes and plush lips that are fuckable.
There’s a scene where she rolls onto her back, her figure perfectly outlined by dim, subtle lighting that makes my friend go absolutely feral every fucking time he sees it.
It’s annoying.
But a small part of me can’t blame Kairo. Rosalie Beckett is all of our possible wet dreams combined into one curvaceous, petite package.
My tastes are a little different from Kairo’s. Where he openly watches every interview, music video, or press conference that pertains to Rosalie, I privately enjoy the moments of hers that stick with me like an addiction.
My favorite video is a little stunt she pulled on paparazzi almost a year ago.
She was out in the city with Charlie, Charlie’s wife, and their surrogate when a swarm of cameramen began shoving their way through security to get to the women.
Rosalie puffed out her chest, her face twisting into a rage I had never seen on the shy, quiet girl from our past before she verbally shamed the paparazzi for pushing around a pregnant woman.
She shoved one of the cameramen in her rampage, and it was plastered all over the headlines of every gossip site and social media page imaginable.
She was forced by her PR manager to apologize, but as I watched the press conference, undeniable pride sparked in my chest.
“I won’t apologize for being angry over someone so careless and selfish, hurting my friend. Anyone who thinks senseless violence is the answer is always in the wrong, which is the only thing I show any remorse for. I shouldn’t have stooped to such a low level, and for that, I apologize.”
Oh, her little go fuck yourself speech had my palm and cock twitching. Would she be that bold towards me? Would she fiercely stand up for what she believes in, all for me to bend her over my fucking knee and make her squeal?
It’s all fantasy, playing on repeat in my head, but if I ever got the opportunity…
I shake myself out of it as I fill out a report. I need to focus on our last contract, which is now up. No work means no money coming in.
As a small security business, we rely heavily on contract work that often ends before we can find new work.
After retiring from the military, we thought opening our own independent security business would be the best bet for us to be our own bosses, since we don’t play well with others. If we had only fucking known…
“Turn that shit off,” I snap. “I can’t focus.”
Kairo ignores me, his eyes trained on his phone screen.
Maddox comes out of the connected bathroom, wiping his hands with a towel. “Anything new in the inbox?”
I rub a hand across my mouth, mentally crunching the numbers that aren’t equaling what we want them to. “Haven’t checked yet.”
Honestly? I don’t want to. Disappointment is a hard pill to swallow multiple times a day.
“Open it and get the hard part out of the way,” Kairo suggests helpfully.
I sigh as I click on the email inbox, waiting for absolutely nothing to pop up, but blinking my shock away when I see the one unopened message that was sent at twelve this morning. I don’t say anything out of fear of getting our hopes up as I read the email.
Hello, Contract Co. Security Detail,
I hope this email finds you well.
My name is Elijah Moore with Starlight Records.
It’s my understanding that your company deals with smaller-based security gigs, but I’m desperate.
As Rose Beckett’s PR manager and a close friend, her safety and security are my main focus.
Most companies employed in Los Angeles are connected, and we’re looking for something new that doesn’t have the same knowledge of this area.
Please respond at your earliest convenience.
—
Elijah Moore (PR manager)
Licensed by Starlight Records
“What are the fucking odds…” I trail, dumbfounded as I keep rereading the email. Maddox creeps over my shoulder before snatching the mouse from me and maximizing the screen.
“There’s no way…” He says low, pressing his hand into my shoulder.
“What is it?” Kairo asks, finally looking up from his phone.
Before I can speak, Maddox beats me to it. “Rosalie’s PR manager reached out to us for a private security detail.”
The blonde is up and flying across the room before he crowds around the monitor. I give them the chance to read over the message, and then read it again to get over the initial shock.
A devious chuckle tumbles past Kairo’s lips. “Oh, this is too good. We have to take it.”
I whip around to him, my features hard. “And do you have the money for a flight to Los Angeles?”
“I have enough saved for the three of us,” Maddox shrugs.
“Not helping,” I bite. “We aren’t doing this.”
Kairo pulls back, spreading his hands open as that shit-eating smirk pulls up the left corner of his mouth. “I say we take a vote. All those in favor of taking the job?”
Both chuckle fucks raise their hands high, waiting for my reply with bated breath.
When I stay silent for far longer than they’re comfortable with, Kairo shakes my shoulders.
“Come on! You can’t say this isn’t fate!
” He looks deranged as he glances between me and the computer screen.
“Haven’t we always begged for an opportunity like this?
It fell right into our laps, and you’re telling me we’re just going to ignore it? ”
In my wildest dreams, I allowed myself to answer the siren call of Rosalie—her perfect smile and bright green eyes alight with something fiery.
When I sleep, she’s everything I could have imagined her to be if her life weren’t so unforgiving.
She’s bratty, headstrong, and addictive—something I’m scared will be the truth once we’re all reintroduced to each other.
She isn’t the only one who’s changed. Kairo keeps his hair cropped short with the sides buzzed from our time in the military.
He also abandons his contacts unless we’re working, and opts to wear his wire-framed glasses instead.
Maddox’s hair is a little overgrown and shaggy since he didn’t mesh well with the harsh regulations during our service.
We’ve all filled out far more than when we were teenagers, needing the strength for the military, and now our current tanking business.
The tattoos and well-defined structure can only get us so damn far. We’re plummeting into the hole at breakneck speed, and I know Kairo is right.
We need this job.
I sit back in my chair, rubbing my hand across my eyes. “Fine. I’ll respond. Get the next red-eye flight to Los Angeles.”
“Yes!” Kairo yells, nearly tripping over his boots as he throws the door open that leads to the stairwell to our connected apartment. “I’m packing our bags!”
“Don’t touch my shit!” I command, but he’s already bolting up the steps. I shake my head, glaring at Maddox. “If either of you fucking embarrasses me…”
He won’t meet my eyes.
“Look at me, Mad.” I push.
His gaze flickers to me, and I see what he’s plotting beyond those dark eyes. His special interests have got us caught up in some shit before, and I refuse to have a repeat of the last time.
“We won’t,” He says with no conviction behind his words.
I stand, towering over him as I collar his throat tightly. I level our noses, and he stares back at me with half-lidded eyes.
“Keep your fucking delusions in check, Mad.” I grit my teeth harshly. “I won’t save you a second time.”
That morbid curiosity shines through his gaze like a fucking promise of something he can’t contain—the beast he is at his core. There’s so much we could have lost because of him, and he knows it.
“If either of you steps out of line, I’ll put you back myself. Do you understand?”
His jaw grinds beneath my hand. “Yes, Sergeant.”
My eyes narrow before I release him. “Get us on the next flight.”
He turns on his heel, and I don’t hear from him until we’re done packing and the taxi Kairo called is waiting out front for us.