Twisted-Games

On the surface, Christian looked like the stereotypical charming, goodnatured
playboy he portrayed himself to be. Even though he was thirty-one,
he could’ve passed for his mid to late twenties, and he used it to his
advantage. People looked at his pretty-boy face and tailored Italian suits and
underestimated him. They didn’t realize he was a wolf in expensive clothing
until it was too late.
“What are you doing here, Harper?” I repeated.
I knew, of course. He’d chewed me out on the phone last week after the
news about me and Bridget broke, but I hadn’t expected him to fly here so
soon with Magda still missing.
I should’ve known better, which proved just how fucked in the head I was
about Bridget. I couldn’t think straight. All I could think about was where she
was, who she was with, and how she was doing.
It didn’t matter that she’d ripped my heart out the other day. If anyone
hurt my princess in any way—physically, mentally, or emotionally—there
would be hell to pay.
“Take a wild guess.” Christian leaned against the counter, the picture of
insouciance, but his hard gaze belied his casual pose. “Your client, Larsen. A
future queen.”
“They’re tabloid rumors, and she’s not my client anymore.” I need
another drink.
I understood now why people turned to alcohol for comfort now. It filled
a part of ourselves we’d lost, or at least it gave the illusion of doing so.
“You forget. I know when you’re lying.” Christian’s voice dropped
several decibels. His anger burned cold, not hot, and it was when he got quiet
that people ran and ducked for cover. “Even if I didn’t, you think I didn’t
look into the situation myself? What you did is a fireable offense.”
“So fire me.” I had enough money saved up to tide me over for a nice
long while, and the prospect of playing bodyguard to anyone but Bridget held
zero appeal for me.
The thought crystallized and took root.
“Actually, you know what? I quit.”
Christian stared at me. “Just like that.”
“Just like that.” My mouth flattened into a grim line. “I fucked up, and
I’m sorry. But I’m done with the bodyguard game.”
He tapped his fingers on the dresser. Watching. Thinking. “I assume
things with the princess are over, considering the whispers I’m hearing about