Page 11 of The Bodyguard Proposal

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Gold star.”

The sarcasm-covered words are bullets. I don’t mean to say them, and I shouldn’t be saying them, but I’ve crawled out of a dingy hostel room, had no sleep, and now my trip is potentially ruined before it even has a chance to start. Am I really going to be supervised? Is that what’s going to happen?

“You said I’m here to stop you from getting into trouble,” he says. “What kind of trouble are you planning?”

“Petty crime, petty socializing, and petty sexual deviance.”

His mouth twitches. “That’s a packed night.”

No, I refuse any witty banter between us. I have to be strong and not wilt with politeness. And sure, he’s never heard me talk bluntly before, unless maybe with Nim and Reena? Likely not, and it’s not that I suddenly consider him trustworthy enough to not filter for. Again, I’m simply too tired and… I don’t know… in a new country and somehow that makes a difference. Thereare no cameras or journalists watching, and my future fame is, fingers crossed, far from London. It better be.Please let it not invade this trip.

“Look, I can’t do my trip with you here. Because”—my gaze sharpens and feels desperate—“you’re my mom’s protection agent. Practically a mole back to her.”

“She gave me this to show you.” He slips a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and slides it across the table. It’s an article clipping with a headline written skillfully to alarm. VEER SINGH FRACTURES WRIST IN MOTOCROSS DANCING INCIDENT AND HALTS MOVIE PRODUCTION. MILLION DOLLAR INSURANCE CLAIM PENDING.

Shit.I suddenly picture how my mom would’ve reacted to this news. Her imagination growing and growing until she’s envisioned dozens of scenarios about me hurting myself, especially abroad. Sending Huan was likely her solution. Her overprotective fix.

“I don’t do extreme sports,” I say.

“There’s insurance underwriters involved in your new movie.”

“Yes, but don’t you think being here is too much and silly?”

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug. I read it as “I guard people who have massive amounts of money where all their needs are catered for, so what is too much in this world?”

Well, I don’t feel like explaining howthatworld is exactly what I’m taking a break from.

“Tell her you didn’t find me. Tell her I’m lost in the London metropolitan wind.”

“I would if I could. Coming here wasn’t… my first choice.”

My expression stays the same, but I feel this slight expansion of hurt in my chest. I shouldn’t, but I do. He didn’t want to come here? Specifically, he doesn’t want to be aroundme?

“Shreya insisted,” he argues. “Even when I tried pushing for a different plan, she wouldn’t budge. Regardless, I can’t tell her that I haven’t found you. That would make me unfit for my job. She wouldn’t believe me.”

“Are you really that perfect? Haven’t you ever lost someone before?” For a second, I think I’ve struck a blow somewhere unprotected because he tenses abruptly and that makesmetense, but it’s all for nothing. In the next flash, Huan leans back, arm draped casually around the back of the chair next to him. Unrelatedly, I observe how his pecs belong in a fitness magazine. Such an observation is a fact-gathering exercise. Any information about your opponents can be used as leverage... somehow...

“She already knows I’ve found you,” he says. “And for the record, I’m not here to interfere with your plans. I’m here to put myself between you and any physical harm. Standard protocol.”

Is he serious? I’m on a trip to escape my planned future, and he thinks following me around is standard procedure? I’ll show him.

“Okay, cool. Is watching me drink and hook up with strangers also standard protocol? Will you hover when I get into any type of mess in London? Stop me from staying out too late or eating only biscuits for lunch? How about when I get wildly drunk? What if I actually wish to partake in alive-action porno?What are we talking about here? I would like the details,please. What are your limits?”

“You want to hook up with strangers?” he asks impassively. "How many?" There is a tic in his jaw I might have imagined. Whatever the case, any facial disruptions are pointedly smoothed away before I can register them fully.

“I am not answering thatwildlyirrelevant question. We must get back to the issue at hand. Tell me, what are your limits, Mr. Executive Protection Agent?” I go forward onto myelbows. “Keep in mind, I am an adult woman who requires no supervision. I’m simply out here to live my most fulfilled life, before I’m too famous to do so.”

“This is what you really want?”

That tone of his—words are subtly bitten off.

“Like you care about my happiness,” I scoff.

“Right.” He clears his throat. “Physical damage… is what I am obliged to care about.”

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