Page 47 of Entangled Mafia Princess

“This is different,” she remarks of the vehicle.

“I don’t always feel like showing off,” I reply as I take her bag. “You’ve got everything? Your phone in here?”

“Yeah, everything’s in there.”

I place the bag in my trunk, which has a device that interrupts cellphone reception so her bodyguard can’t track her by phone.

“So is that guy really your chauffer?” I ask when we’re buckled in our seats. I gaze at her, letting her know that I know.

“No, he’s not,” she relents. “He’s actually a…bodyguard.”

I don’t say anything as I pull the car from the curb and glance in the rearview mirror to see that Chase has pulled into the road too.

“But don’t worry,” Casey adds quickly, “he won’t get in the way.”

“Why do you have a bodyguard?” I inquire.

“Dad says most wealthy people do.”

“How does he define wealthy? There are plenty of millionaires who don’t have bodyguards. Is your dad a billionaire?”

“No, but I guess he makes enough that—I mean, I think it’s ridiculous. I don’t need a bodyguard, but my dad’s super paranoid or something.”

“Does your bodyguard follow you everywhere?”

“Well, not into the bathroom, but pretty much everywhere. It sucks.”

“He keep tabs on you in other ways?”

“Other ways?”

“Tracking devices, maybe?”

“No. I am not wearing a tracking device.”

“And he doesn’t tell your parents about your extracurricular activities?”

“I’ve got the goods on Chase. My dad would flip out if he knew that Chase was gay.”

In the rearview mirror, I see one of my guys pull his car in front of Chase’s. Chase gestures and tries to change lanes, but my other guy is driving next to Chase, blocking him. I turn onto a street that’s only one lane each way and start to create more distance between me and Chase, who can’t get past my driver.

“My dad was like that,” I say.

“I’m surprised my dad was willing to move out here to San Francisco, but I’m glad he did. I like it here. So this place we’re going to, The Lotus, why is it so exclusive?”

“Quality control, and the club owner likes to know his patrons.”

“How’d you score me an invitation?”

Darren trusts me not to be careless. It isn’t enough that I’m Jing San. He learned the hard way on that one.

“The guy owed me a favor,” I answer.

“Nice of you to have used it on me.”

“So don’t disappoint.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

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