Page 34 of Guarded By the Phantom

“That sounds amazing,” she said with quiet joy in her voice.

I couldn’t move. Shivers ran down my back, because no womaneverhad looked at me like that. The looks I got in the night club were covetous and horny, and the looks I got everywhere else were horrified or disgusted, but she…

God, the way she smiled. Atme.Because I offered her coffee with sprinkles.

It was fucking sad. Sad because she radiated joy at such a simple thing that no one thought to offer her before. And sad for me, because in my thirty-four years of life, no one had ever smiled at me like that.

I cleared my throat, trying to make the pink go away. When it didn’t, and the pleasant shivers crawling up my thighs got moreintense, I clenched my teeth and braced. I had to make this glow go away, and brutal honesty was the way to do it.

She’s fucking royalty, and you’re a monster. You’ll never get to have her. She’ll never want you like that, moron. So get these stupid thoughts out of your head and do your fucking job.

The pink diffused. I put the helmet on Barbara’s head to get rid of that temptation of a smile before I got on, engaging all systems to ignore her presence so close to me.

I had one job: catch the mind manipulator. After that, this would be all over, and I’d never see her again.

Chapter 12

Barbara

When my coffee arrived, I stared at it with awe for a good minute while Phantom snorted, folding his arms in his seat opposite me.

“I don’t think they’ve ever made a drink like this before,” he said, laughing under his breath.

He nursed an enormous mug filled with twelve espressos. I cringed just looking at it, but he seemed to enjoy it. Phantom was also the one who paid for our orders, saying, “You don’t want your parents to see this in your credit card statement, doll. Let me handle it.”

Now we sat at a table by the window, which afforded Phantom a clear view of the coffeehouse entrance, and I felt giddy not just for the gorgeous drink in front of me, but also because this felt kind of like a date. Especially since he carried me in and held me all the way to the table, grinning uncannily at everyone who stared at us for too long.

It was silly, I knew, and yet, I couldn’t get rid of the warmth suffusing my chest.

“Aren’t you gonna eat it?” he asked finally when I turned my tall coffee mug this way and that, marveling at how pretty and colorful the drink was.

“In a minute,” I answered, my voice light with joy.

Phantom had bullied me at the counter, demanding I order exactly what I wanted, with all the blows and whistles. My coffee included three kinds of syrup, crunchy caramel chips, and double whipped cream decorated with white chocolate hearts and pink, blue, and silver sprinkles.

A hissy little voice in my head kept asking me if I knew how many calories were in it, but I was determined to ignore it.

“It looks like a unicorn went and shat in your mug,” Phantom said, leaning in to inspect the gorgeous sugar bomb. “They should trademark it. It could be called Unicorn’s Business.”

I laughed under my breath, not in the least grossed out by his comments. If anything, they made the experience all the better. I knew he wasn’t joking at my expense. I was in on the joke, he was here with me, and I was doing something deliciously forbidden that I’d wanted to do for years, and just…

“Thank you,” I said, looking up. My eyes felt hot. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Phantom huffed and raised his hand, his palm hovering in front of my face as if to cover it.

“Awesome. Good for you. Now please, eat your coffee, all right?”

I grinned and reached for the long spoon that came with my drink. “Eat” was the right word, too. My coffee had the consistency of a dessert, and I loved it all the more for it.

My enthusiasm lasted all through the whipped cream and the first half of my drink. Once I reached the halfway point, though, I couldn’t go on. My stomach churned and my teeth hurt from the sweetness, and even though I badly wanted to continue, Iwas afraid I’d be sick. I pushed the massive mug away and gave Phantom an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I can’t have any more.”

I expected him to guilt trip me into eating the rest. It was what my mother used to do. When I was younger, she allowed me one cheat meal every month, and I usually went way overboard asking for all the things I wanted and couldn’t normally have.

Fried chicken. French fries. Chocolate pudding. Cookie dough. A burger. Spaghetti carbonara. Pizza. I asked for all of it for that one single meal, because I knew I’d be on a strict diet after it, so I wanted to fit in everything I had cravings for.

Then, when I inevitably couldn’t stomach the huge amounts of food, my mother would stand there and harp on me for being a weakling who couldn’t handle the consequences of her own choices. The more she forced me to eat, the sicker I got, sometimes to the point of vomiting. When I was sixteen, I stopped wanting to have cheat meals altogether. I only associated them with guilt, pain, and discomfort.

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