Page 89 of The Bodyguard

I toss the phone on the bed and drop my face into my hands.

I should be happy.

Goddamn them.

Ryder is going to be here in an hour, and I want to enjoy my time with him. Not burden him with my family drama. I wish I could ring Gina and tell her about him, but I can’t. I can’t just pretend we are friends and that she doesn’t work for me.

That something has changed between us.

I don’t trust her.

I nearly told Briar when she rang early this morning. I just want to talk to someone. My heart feels so sad that after achieving my dream, I don’t have anyone in my life to share all of this with.

Why? Why fucking not?

Should I have stayed working in the diner and played it small so everyone could accept me? Because that’s what it’s looking like.

Either that or pay up.

Frankly, it disgusts me.

My own mother and father see me as a cash cow. They haven’t expressed a single moment of pride or found it inside themselves to stop thinking about themselves and say Savannah, this is absolutely amazing darling. I am so happy for you.

You know, like normal fucking people.

And this is going to sound nuts, but in some ways I can handle my family being useless. It hurts, but they have always been like this.

What I find the most heartbreaking is that I have no one to talk to about Ryder.

Not Gina. Not my sister.

I want to tell them how complicated it is. How Ryder makes me feel alive, scared, and happy. How hard it is to pretend he barely exists when we are in public. How I feel his eyes on me constantly and not just because it’s his job.

I want to smile and dance around the house, giggling at how many times he made me orgasm yesterday. The way he picks me up in his strong arms and how his silly winks fill my tummy with butterflies.

How, when Ryder’s body is close to mine, guiding me when we’re out in public, I want to turn and press myself into him and feel his mouth on mine. To hear his gruff, deep voice say Sweetheart, keep walking. Or I’ll scoop you up and drag you home and fuck you.

I’d never say no to him.

God, I like him. I like him A LOT.

More than I should.

More than I can.

Sweetheart you don’t belong to me.

“Ughhhh.” I let out the loud guttural groan and walk into my bathroom, stripping off my yoga clothes.

I turn on the shower and all seven of the jets begin spraying hot water. I love this bathroom. It was one of the features I loved most about the house. Which seems dumb given it’s a ten-bedroom mansion with views of the Hollywood Hills.

But I’m a Cancerian and I love water.

Give me a hot tub, bath, shower, ocean, lake... you get the idea. I am one happy little water sign.

So when Ryder said he’d pour me a bath with rose petals to celebrate my nomination, my heart did a little dance.

How does he just get me?

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