Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Exactly.”
He rolls his eyes and stands off the desk. “Unless this psychotic dickhole is someone you enraged after fucking them, then it becomes my business.”
“I’m not an asshole,” I say, my chest tight. “I’d like to believe I treated all of my one-night stands with respect.”
“I know.” His voice is almost a whisper.
I crack my knuckles. “I always thought about how every hookup had to sign NDAs and jump through hoops to sleep with me. To protect me.” I look up at Farrow. “And I always thought who’s protecting them? And I knew, I fucking knew, that it was my job to protect the people I had sex with. I had to care or else it felt like my life meant more than theirs because I’m famous. And that’s just bullshit.”
Farrow stares deeply. “And now I just want to protect the fuck out of you ten times more.”
I lick my lips, knowing that I need to let go of control. I need help, and I need him. If I create a roadblock, then I’ll lose Farrow as my bodyguard. He’d probably quit his job before he failed me—and maybe he’s been struggling with that idea.
Maybe he still will. But I have to make it easier on him.
So I say, “I’m okay with that.”
Farrow closes the distance between us before I unfreeze. I hold the back of his neck, and he clasps my jaw, his hand affectionate and forceful. I hear our heavy breaths.
His brown eyes melt against my forest-green, and he says, “I’m really, really in love with you, and whatever happens, keeping you safe is my priority.”
“Same here.”
He begins to smile. “You’re going to keep me safe?”
“Yeah.” I nod heartily. “No one’s fucking with you.”
“They’re not fucking with me because I’m not the famous one,” he says. “And unfortunately for you, it’s my job to jump in front a bullet that’s aimed for your head.”
I grimace. “Thanks for reminding me.” We eye each other’s lips, a half-second from kissing, and then my phone rings. I pull away. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Farrow leaves my side to pick up his oatmeal, finally eating.
I take the call. “Hey?”
“Moffy, can you come into the gift store downstairs?” Sulli whispers softly. “Please? Fuck, this is so hard.”
I already start grabbing a clean pair of jeans and a crew-neck shirt. “I’ll be right there.”
15
FARROW KEENE
I rest my ass partially on a table of folded Cavaliers shirts. “Why the phone call?” I ask Akara and Donnelly. We hang out at the gift shop’s entrance.
Our clients talk towards the back. Near a rack of keychains and souvenir mugs. And in my peripheral, I clearly see Beckett eating Wendy’s fries, Maximoff unwrapping his chicken biscuit, and Sulli speaking too quietly to hear.
Akara wears a backwards baseball cap and bounces a rubber ball. “She said she’s having a hard time picking out a souvenir for her little sister.”
My brows ratchet up. Because that’s not a reason she’d call Maximoff. I eat a spoonful of oatmeal, and Donnelly listens while he tries on winter beanies.
“What’s she actually doing?” I ask Akara.
“Looking for a birthday present for me and pretending like I don’t know what’s up.” He observes them out of the corner of his eye. “She opened the curtains in the room this morning and saw someone outside carrying a Sullivan the Sasquatch sign. Probably heading to the convention.”
I let out a long whistle. Dipshits thinking they’re clever are the least clever.
“She’s freaking,” Donnelly pipes in, tugging a Mohawk beanie over his chestnut hair.
“She’s not freaking.” Akara catches the ball. “She’s just feeling out the water, and she’s used to having Maximoff beside her in new situations. Which is why she called him.”
That sounds more accurate. He’s the moral support for 99% of his family. Minus Charlie.
I’d say that Sulli did fine at the Camp-Away event, but the FanCon isn’t that comparable. Only three-hundred fans attended the Camp-Away and she took breaks in her cabin for solitude.
The philanthropy sold a thousand tickets for the Cleveland FanCon, and that’s just one tour stop of many. Here, all the famous ones are obligated to shake hands, hug strangers, and take pictures for hours with little to no rest.
Not my thing, but that’s why no one’s paying for my selfies.
Donnelly subtly eyes them while facing us too. “Those mugs are bugging Beckett.” I can’t detect Beckett’s annoyance. But not a second later, he realigns the mugs in a neat row.
Maximoff gesticulates from his chest to Sulli, speaking extremely fucking empathetically to his cousin.
I skim him, a smile playing at my lips, and I take a swig of coffee. “He’s about to hug her.” On cue, Maximoff wraps his arms around his cousin, and she squeezes him back.
Akara bounces his ball. “She’ll buy a Sagittarius something for me. Wait for it…” We watch Sulli scan the shelves and then veer to a display of zodiac jewelry. She plucks a silver Sagittarius keychain off a hook.