Page 8 of The Queen's Denial

Chapter 4

Chi

Andy is gone for two days. Two full fucking days, while I sit here wondering where he is and what he’s doing. And maybe even if he’s okay. Because I swear, if he’s dead before I get a chance to see what’s underneath his fitted black tee and low-slung black jeans, I’m going to be pissed.

I’m a little upset that I have no way of contacting him. All those times I saw him answering calls from others, and he never thought to give me his number. He’s saved me from a bunch of Italian mafia thugs, brought me to the hospital with a head injury, sat by my side for days to make sure I was okay, but I’m not allowed to have his number?

I don’t really care. Not really. It just feels like he doesn’t trust me. And we need some sort of trust between us, since we’re… well, since he’s my bodyguard at the moment. Cas has transferred the title to Andy, and my father’s top guard, Daiki, is in Japan, so Andy is head of operations here. How can I trust him if I can’t even contact him?

Then again, I’ve never had the number of my bodyguards before. I was only entrusted with Daiki’s emergency line when I turned 18, and that was just because I started going out more and sowing my wild oats. Thinking about it now, I realize that I never actually cared about getting numbers before.

I try to push this out of my head. Who cares? Seriously, with all the shit I have going on in my life, why in the hell would I care about getting a guard’s number? I put it on the back burner to consider when Andy is actually here, and I can do something about it if I choose.

In the meantime, I try Mara’s phone with no luck. I can’t even eavesdrop on Papa’s conversations because he’s not back from the hospital yet. I try talking to any of the Italians Cas and Andy have stationed around the property, but they’re like the King’s Guard, staring straight ahead, giving me one-word answers to all of my questions. I manage to pull out of them that Mara and Cas are okay, but otherwise, I can’t get anything else. One of them even looks strangely nervous to talk to me. While I wonder if he might be a mole, I look down at his Apple watch and realize the last text he received is from Andy. From what I can read, it says, “Don’t even think about it, or I will fucking—” until it cuts off mid-sentence. I don’t need to see the rest, though. I know it’s from Andy, and I know it’s got to do with me.

Of course, I want to be indignant that he’s telling his guards not to talk to me, but I can’t muster up enough anger to even take it out on the innocent young guy in front of me. I can see this shit getting really old really fast, but there’s something strangely thrilling in the fact that Andy is looking out for me. I retreat back into my room with a strange little smirk on my face that even I don’t quite understand.

Finally, a full day later, Andy shows up, as I’m about ready to pass out for the night. I hear the knock on my bedroom door — apparently he has let himself into my suite without knocking. Thank goodness my bedroom has its own lock, or else he’d probably stalk silently past the kitchenette and TV room and barge in on me whenever he felt like it. I yell at him to wait, and then throw on my matching red and pink polka-dot underwear, covering up with just a bathrobe.

As soon as I straighten up to knot my bathrobe, I get a nasty head rush. Suddenly, it feels like I’m underwater again, and I have to hold onto my bedpost to steady myself. I’m tired and, I suppose, still recovering. But I’m not concerned. I pull myself together and answer the door.

“I was just getting ready to go to sleep,” I say in my most seductive voice possible, but I can tell right away that Andy sees something in my eyes as his expression turns from devilish to concerned.

“You okay, Chi?”

I roll my eyes. “I should be asking you that. You need to give me your number. The least you could have done was shoot me a text to tell me you were alive.”

“Well, I’m fine, but you don’t look so great. Take a seat and let me check you out.”

“Yes, having you check me out was the plan.” I go to grab him and lead him to the bed, but to my eternal frustration, I get another dizzy spell and a short but searing pain in my temple. I think I play it off pretty well, but I do wince, and my hand twitches slightly toward my head.

“Okay, what have you been up to all day? Have you been out of bed?”

Andy has always been overbearing, since the very first day that I met him, but I’m starting to get really fucking sick of him ordering me around. I know that “made man” mindset, and I’m not a fan. He may feel responsible for me in some way, but I really don’t need anyone telling me what to do or not to do. I get enough of that shit from the unwritten rules of this life, but I only need to follow those for my father. I don’t intend to follow them for a peer I intend to make into a fuck buddy.

“Yes, Andy, I’ve been out of bed. Of course I’ve been out of bed. I’m not terminal. I got smacked on the head a week ago, and now I’m better.”

“Five days ago, Chi. Five days.”

I roll my eyes but stay quiet while he looks at me. To my utter frustration, a headache is starting to form behind my eyes, and the late hour is really getting to me.

Andy sighs. “You need to get some sleep, Chi.” He sounds disappointed, but again tells me what to do, and it makes my blood boil.

“Andy, get over yourself.” I grab his shoulders and look into his eyes while I say it, my gaze simmering into his, making him feel every ounce of my desire for him. “I can decide…” I close my eyes against another pain in my temple, and when I open them, he looks at me with his eyebrow cocked and a knowing gaze.

I roll my eyes again, and he grabs my waist and returns my adamant stare. “If you don’t stop rolling your eyes at me, I’ll give them a new reason to roll. Now get in bed.”

I can go toe to toe with the best of them, but for whatever reason — possibly because he’s right — I decide to break our showdown. “Fine,” I whisper harshly. I’m not used to the men I fuck being so goddamn bossy. Then again, I’m not used to them taking care of me either. Usually, when the going gets tough, the other guys want nothing to do with it and slide away to the next fun, pretty target they find dancing on the bar.

I get into bed, but I won’t go quietly. “You’re really pushing it, dude,” I mumble petulantly.

He tsks me. “We’re going to have to do something about that smart mouth of yours.”

I really hate how I seem to be responding to his bossy tone. It appears that although my brain is telling me to put him in his place, my body is absolutely loving this. My chest constricts every time he gives me an order. It’s hard to deny my climbing desire for him, even past the pain in my head and the fact that he keeps telling me what to fucking do.

There’s no way I’ll let him know I like it, though. “What are you gonna do to me? Make it painfully obvious that you want to fuck me, push me into bed, and then not follow through with it?”

Suddenly, he’s on me, and I’m flat on my back, his face in mine, the clean scent of citrusy soap washing over me. “No, Chee-chee,” he says, his mouth so close to my ear, minty breath hot on my neck. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you. Not until I want you to know. I’m not sure if you’ll like it once you do, though.” He licks my neck, slowly trailing the tip of his tongue up the underside of my chin, and I can’t even attempt to hide the full body shiver the action elicits from deep inside of me.

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