Page 98 of Passenger Princess

"What?"

"You can't be in the field forever, but you have the contacts and stellar recommendations. You know how men should act, and theyrespect you. You'd do well starting your own firm. It would mean you could probably stay at your girl's side more, too."

My mind reels, trying to understand his words. Of course, it had been a passing thought before, occasionally thinking it could be an interesting endeavor, but I also thought I was going to be happy retiring young. Now...I'm not so sure.

Now, I think I wouldn't mind exploring the world with Ava, especially if Janine is putting wild ideas in her mind, ideas that, despite my initial hesitance, make a lot of sense for her.

"Just...think about it. You've got enough saved up, and you could probably not work for the rest of your life even without that retirement account."

He's not wrong—the life I've lived hasn't meant I had much time to throw my money at things, so I've saved most of my paychecks. Hell, I don't even pay rent or mortgage since I'm on the road most of the time, and when I'm not, I'm at the cabin in the Poconos.

"But I know you. You'll get stir-crazy after some time. When you do, you come to talk to me. Let me help you weigh those pros and cons."

From my spot on the couch, I see Janine and Ava walk out of the bathroom, Ava's head tipping back with a laugh.

"Thanks, Hank," I say, my eyes on my girl.

He chuckles, and then his chair scrapes as he stands. "Yeah, you'll do just fine, that one on your arm."

As she gets closer, her eyes locked on me, her smile gets wider and warmer, and I can't do anything but agree with him.

We say our goodbyes and walk out of the front door when it happens: a single reporter with a bright camera flash nearly blinds us at the base of Hank's driveway.

"Ava, so you are having a relationship with your bodyguard?" a voice shouts, a photo being snapped as the words come.

A paparazzi.

At Hank's house.

Seemingly outing Ava and me.

"You're on private property," Hank's voice booms behind me. "Get the fuck out."

The man continues to shout Ava's name, the camera flash never stops, and all I can think about is getting Ava to safety.

"Get in the house, Ava," I snap, not even looking over my shoulder at her. As soon as the first flash came, I pushed her behind me, barely a foot between us and the door we had just stepped out of.

"Jaime, I?—"

"In the house," I bark.

"Come on, sweetie," Janine says gently before the door closes behind me, but my eyes are locked on Preston Smith, the fuckwad reporter from the American Star.

"You're on private property," Hank says. "Give me your camera."

"Hell no. Do you know how much these photos are worth? The bodyguard and America's sweetheart having some torrid affair all along? Proof that Ava Bordeaux is nothing like what she's been trying to sell?"

I shake my head at this idiot. "What does it matter to you?" I ask, stepping down off the step and crossing my arms on my chest. He's smaller than me, both in bulk and height, but I won't touch him. I know better, know that it would only hurt Ava more and benefit this jackass.

"She's a fraud, and the world should know."

I stare at him, taking him in and decoding him. "Who sent you?" I ask, taking a step closer.

Suddenly, a flash of something—panic or fear—crosses his face before it's covered again with his smug look. "No one, I work for the American Star."

"Hmm, that much might be true, but there's some other connection," I say, stepping forward again. Now there's maybe five feet between us, his camera still raised, but doubt is in his eyes. "Is it Regina? Is she paying you?"

"No. Why would she pay me? I'm just here to make money on an article."

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