Page 9 of Billionaire Bodyguard

That I wanted her, obviously. And my big head wasn’t the one doing the thinking. The head inside my boxer-briefs was totally behind the question.

Every man had more than one breaking point, and apparently, we’d just found one of mine.

Five

Linzey

“So where are you going tonight?” I asked Adler as we took the elevator up to Marigold and Booker’s palatial penthouse. My home was luxurious; theirs was fit for royalty.

“Booker and I are grabbing a couple beers atThe Keg House,” he answered, naming a bar I’d heard of but had never been to. I should have asked him about his plans earlier, but admittedly, I’d been annoyed. Whether it was at myself or at him was a toss up.

I’d been frustrated and angry at him when he’d knocked earlier, interrupting my post-run stretching. So when he’d invited me to dinner, he’d gotten a knee-jerk refusal. I hadn’t even been nice. Instead, I’d snapped, “No!” and slammed the door.

Way to prove you’re not a kid, Linzey, I berated myself.

It had been childish.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Why couldn’t I get a grip on my emotions? My old therapist said it was because I was dealing with CPTSD—complex post traumatic stress disorder—from what had happened to me four years ago. I supposed she was right. I mean, she was paid to know what the heck she was talking about. Talking to her really had helped me to heal until she moved across the country to get married. I’d been improving, but now I was stagnating in a mire of ick.

It was no wonder Adler didn’t want me. I was a hot mess. Not justhot.More like a fry-an-egg-on-my-attitude, incinerating-your-will-to-live disaster. Sometimes, though, I imagined he looked at me as if he might desire me. And sometimes, when he held me in the dark after my nightmares, I almost believed we were in love. Those few minutes gave me hope I’d find a way through my muddle.

My unrequited need for him was yet another of my demons. How many miles had I run to dull my craving for him. Hundreds.

And then, when he’d asked me out, I’d said no? What the heck? What was wrong with me? I’d regretted my refusal for every moment since I’d shut the door in his face. Sure, it wouldn’t have been arealdate, but it was the closest I’d ever get.

Embarrassed and frustrated, again, I’d avoided him until he’d come to tell me that the car was there to pick us up.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I said quietly, hoping I wouldn’t need to explain what I meant. I glanced over at him from the corner of my eye and found his gaze locked on me, his mouth twisted in a deprecating, half smile.

“It’s alright. I just figured we’d both need to eat.”

Right. So it hadn’t been more, just as I’d suspected.

As if to remind me that I still hadn’t eaten, my stomach growled loudly as we stepped from the lift into the marble entryway of my sister’s home on the opposite side of Central Park from my building. Her place was a two story penthouse with a rooftop terrace. I knew it well. Booker had owned it before they’d gottentogether, then I’d lived with them for a couple years until I’d insisted I wanted to strike out on my own.

My intention had been to move across the country to go to college, and while there, I’d planned to live on campus. To be a coed and experience all that college life had to offer.

My family and Adler had other ideas. The next thing I knew, I was setup for online courses and Booker had purchased the home where I now lived. He gave it to me as a gift. It was chump change for him, being a princeanda multi-billionaire. I appreciated it, but I knew it had mostly been about keeping his wife happy.

Of course.

Which was fine. He owed me nothing. No one owed me anything—except maybe Rod.

I wasn’t bitter about it or anything. I loved my sister more than anyone in the world, but just once I’d like… I’d like something to be about me.

I shook my head, knowing I was being selfish and jealous. I had everything I could want. Well, almost everything. I glanced over at Adler. I’d never have my true heart’s desire. I was too…tainted.

He caught my gaze, his brows drew together at whatever expression he saw on my face. I forced a smile, but then my stomach growled again, and his scowl deepened.

“Didn’t you eat? When was your last meal?” he demanded.

My shoulder lifted in a negligent half-shrug. It wasn’t something I really cared about.

Before he could say anything, and I could tell he definitely had something to say, Marigold swept into the entry with Booker on her heels. She pulled me into a tight hug.

“Hi, Sweetie! Guess what?” she exclaimed.

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