Page 13 of Flirtatious

As I lay on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, I remember why I love being out on the road so much. Everything is new, every city is different, and you never have to focus on what happened before because something interesting is right around the corner. Here it’s the same thing every day.

Deal with my mother.

Be practically ignored by the bodyguard I pay to protect me.

Hide out in my room and pretend like any of this is normal.

If only I hadn’t told the crew to take a few days off. At least if they were here, I’d have someone to talk to.

I’m sure my mother has instructed the new guy to stay away from me. God forbid a man pay any attention to me. Unless, of course, he’s in the audience far enough away to never touch me and has bought a ticket for the pleasure of getting a look at me.

Nothing like feeling as if you’re only one step up from being in the tent on the edge of the circus where they keep the bearded lady and other freaks.

God, I’m so restless. At least when Michael was around, I had someone to laugh with and watch old TV shows with. Now, I’m alone until my entourage returns from their vacation.

That leaves me with my mother, her idiot assistant, and Liam to entertain me. Things don’t look good for the immediate future, sadly.

I get up off the bed and wander over to the window to look out at the grounds. I could go swimming. No. There’s nothing sadder than one person swimming, unless they’re exercising, and I’m officially not doing that until my trainer forces me back into the gym.

Maybe a walk around the property. God, no. As if I haven’t seen every square inch of this estate. Little of it is what I want it to look like anyway. My mother and the gardener make all those decisions. I merely get to pose in front of the meticulously trimmed topiaries or whatever beautiful flowers they choose this season whenever some media outlet wants an in-depth look into the private life of Mia.

It's all a façade, but whatever sells, I guess.

Wanderlust courses through my veins, but after bolting from under my mother’s watchful eye twice in the past week, I doubt I’d have any success trying to sneak out again. Maybe if Michael was still around, but with General Liam on duty, forget it.

As my gaze roams over the colorful flower gardens and the perfectly manicured green grass, I wonder if it’s possible to tunnel out. Those prisoners did it from Alcatraz, right? If they could dig through rock, I certainly could dig through some sandy Florida land that sits beneath the sod.

Except by the time I actually got anywhere good, it would be time to head out onto the road again, so all of my work would be for nothing. Kudos to you, Mia, for thinking outside the box, though. Just for that, you get to spend another boring day all alone.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Liam walk out toward the gardens. From the back of the property, my head of security for the estate Javier walks toward him. I’ve always liked Javier. He’s quiet but never fails to have a smile for me, unlike the new guy whose face looks like it might break if he tried to be nice and show me his pearly whites.

For a few seconds, I wonder what they’re talking about, but something about the way Liam’s dressed takes over my thoughts. His black T-shirt only serves to make his biceps look bigger than when I first met him wearing a dress shirt. I wonder if he’s been spending all his off time in the gym. He must. Nobody looks that built naturally. Unlike that first day, now he’s in jeans, and as much as I want to see him as merely an officious bastard of my mother’s, I can’t deny he’s good- looking.

Then I zero in on something just peeking out from under his sleeve. Is that a tattoo? It’s black, so maybe it’s only his shirt. I can’t tell, but it looks like a tattoo. I wonder what he’s got a tattoo of. I didn’t think he had that level of cool in him.

Go figure.

Tall, silent, possibly tattooed, and hot. Like some kind of disapproving statue of a modern Adonis that roams around my home saying as few words as possible to me.

Is he like Michael? Does he just say things because that’s what he’s expected to do but doesn’t care at all about my welfare? Because clearly that’s what my former head of security truly felt about me.

My thoughts meander from Michael back to my new security chief, and I can’t help but wonder about this guy. What’s Liam’s life like when he’s not walking around looking disgruntled here?

I watch him stand perfectly straight as he and Javier talk, Liam towering over him by more than a few inches. How tall is the new guy? I guessed maybe six and a half feet tall that first day, but now I’m thinking he might be even taller than that.

Did he play basketball in high school? He seems like he’d be tall enough, and he is pretty built. It’s not like he’s one of those stick guys who are really tall but don’t have an ounce of fat on them. I hate those guys. I’ve always imagined sleeping with one of them would be like having sex with a rake. Definitely not something I want to experience.

My mind drifts to a place where I wonder what sex with Liam would be like. Certainly not like banging a garden tool. There’s a lot to hang on to with those muscular shoulders and arms. I stare out my window and try to make out what his abs look like under that black T-shirt. I bet he’s got washboard abs. Michael had a nice body, but he didn’t have great abs. I used to tease him about being flabby in the middle all the time. I don’t imagine I’d ever get to say that to Liam.

Suddenly, I realize what I’m doing. Why the hell am I imagining the new guy’s body under his clothes? I don’t even like him. He’s sullen and bossy, and to be honest, I’m not even sure he has the ability to smile. Maybe those are the muscles he should work out more often.

Mumbling to myself, I stare at him and say, “Yeah, maybe try a few lifts of the corners of your mouth, miserable bastard. You might not look so disgusted all the time.”

I know why he looks that way. It’s me. He doesn’t approve of me or how I act or what I say. Well, fuck him. I don’t need his approval. I get that from millions of people around the world. Who the hell cares what some bodyguard on loan from my mother’s favorite place to get them thinks of me?

Javier laughs, and my attention is drawn to Liam’s reaction to another person being happy. For the first time, I see him smile—a genuine smile with teeth that makes him look really sweet, not the forced kind he gives me whenever I walk into a room, like he knows he has to tolerate me and he’s been told that includes being nice, but he never really gets his mouth turned up enough to look anything but irritated.

So Liam can smile and be happy. Just not around me.

---