Page 13 of Never Fall for an Angel

“I’m Parker’s assistant.”

“Not for much longer.”

When Drew doesn’t move, he cocks one dangerous brow at him as if daring him to refuse, and finally, one of his friends speaks up.

“Come on, Drew. This shit’s boring, anyway,” one of the guys says, his gaze refusing to meet the man. “Let’s go.”

Drew glares at me over tall, dark, and devastating’s shoulder but falls back into his posse. With a dark look, he slips around the mystery man, albeit awkwardly, because the man doesn’t move to let him by. Drew’s friends scramble, and Drew shoulder-checks him on his way. I watch them go through the party on the terrace until they disappear up the sidewalk.

“Are you hurt?” the man asks as soon as they’re gone, voice gruff, as if he swallowed sandpaper.

I force a breath past the growing lump in my throat, shaking my head.

“No . . . thank you. He’s just a dick,” I grumble, rubbing the sore spot on my wrist. I fucking hate Drew, and I’ll celebrate the day he takes his last breath. “I don’t know what my sister sees in him.”

“Everything happens for a reason. You can’t control the evil in the world. You can only remove it.”

“Maybe so, but then someone will just step in to take its place.”

“You shouldn’t allow people to treat you that way,” he murmurs, straightening the cuffs of his shirt without looking at me. “You’ll never be anything if you continue to let people walk all over you.”

“I . . .” Ouch. Talk about tough love. “Who are you?”

He smirks, his gaze filling with dark amusement. When they finally meet mine, it feels like staring down the loaded barrel of a gun. I get the feeling this isn’t a man who stumbled upon a college graduation party for fun.

“Your new bodyguard,” he smirks devilishly. “And you’ve got a lot to learn, little devil.”

CHRISTIAN

LA, December, 3 Years Ago

Where are we going?”

“You are going to bed.”

Mila giggles, stumbling along beside me like a baby deer walking for the first time. It’s cute, the way she grabs onto my arm to steady herself.

Oddly enough, I’ve never found anything cute a day in my fucking life.

“I’m fine,” she argues, right before she trips in her ridiculous heels and falls to her ass on the marble floor.

She gawks up at me as if I’d pushed her, and a laugh passes my lips.

Luckily, her mother is just as drunk as she is. I can only imagine the hell she’d raise if she knew I’d let her daughter get sloshed at the Christmas gala that we were all forced to attend for Parker’s social status.

“Still haven’t gotten your sea legs, I see.” I reach down and slide my arms under her. I lift her and hold her against my chest, carrying her down the hall towards her bedroom.

Carrying her inside, I kick the door shut behind us and move to the bathroom, sitting her on her feet by the sink and pinning her to it with my body. She sways, her eyes hazy and unfocused, while I slip off her heels.

“I’m surprised you left these on all night,” I murmur, tossing them to the floor behind us. In the three years I’ve been working for Parker, chasing after his three stepdaughters, I’ve seen Mila barefoot more than I’ve seen her in shoes. The heels left her feet red in spots, and I massage the skin absentmindedly. She lets out a quiet moan, and I pause, the sound going straight to my cock.

That’s new.

Then, she tugs her foot away, snickering because she’s ticklish.

“Take these,” I place two painkillers in her palm and hand her a bottle of water. “All of it,” I tell her when she tries to put the half-full bottle back down.

While she drinks, I grab a washcloth from the cabinet by the sink, wetting it with warm water before I start to work on the makeup on her skin. Her mascara and eyeliner have melted under her eyes, and her lipstick is long gone, save for the slightpink hue on her lips. Her hair, once straight, is starting to curl around her face, and I’m glad. I don’t know why, but I’ve always liked the wild, unruly blonde curls.

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