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Kael regarded me quietly for a few seconds. Finally, he shook his head and stepped away, leaving me cold. “That’s the most honest thing you’ve said yet.”
Early sunlight slanted through the blinds over my window, striping the hardwood floor with bars. Like a prison. Sighing, I turned on my stomach and pressed my face into the down pillow. “Fuck this place,” I said into the stuffing.
I’d skipped the gym this morning. I never skipped the gym. But two weeks with Matilda Thorne had worn me down to a shadow of what I had once been; I barely slept, and if I did, I dreamed of her soft body between my sheets. And it had only gotten worse after the “closet incident” the day before last. After that, Mattie had stayed in her room, only exiting to grab sodas and shitty junk food before disappearing inside her locked door. I knew she was alive, and that was pretty much it.
I had to fight the urge to break down her door, unearth her from the stupid blanket hoodie she wore everywhere, and take out my frustrations on her lithe body. Dangerous, stupid thoughts. Mostly because it wasn’t just her body I craved—it was her. I wanted her acerbic wit. I wanted her twinkling, brown eyes and teasing smile.
Groaning again, I bounced my face against the pillow. “What am I?” I groaned.
My phone buzzed on the walnut bedside table, and without lifting my face from the smothering heat of my own breath against the cotton pillowcase, I fumbled around to find it. When I had it in my hand, I tapped the screen without looking and brought it to my ear. “What.”
“Wow,” Tabitha droned. “You know people quit their bosses, not their jobs, right?”
“What,” I growled.
“How’s the assignment?” she asked congenially, her tone full of false lightness.
I sighed, and it came out like a sound a disgruntled animal would make. I rolled over and stared at the smooth, drywall ceiling. “There was this one time I went to a Siberian tundra to rescue a group of refugees for the UN.”
“Oh good, he’s telling resume stories,” she muttered.
“I had to cross twenty-two miles of frozen, barren wasteland before we even made it to the encampment,” I charged on, my voice growing more agitated as I spoke. “And when I got there, they were all dead.”
“Mother of Christ,” Tabitha muttered.
“I would rather do that again,” I said vehemently, “than do this.”
Silence stretched on for a few seconds. Then Tabitha asked, “Right, but how’s it going?”
Exhaling with irritation, I rolled myself to a sitting position and stood off the bed. “It’s great,” I replied with heavy sarcasm. I shuffled into the bathroom in my shorts and no shirt. “You know, I slept with a sultan’s daughter once?” I flicked on the faucet over the smooth bowl sink. “I fought over diamonds the size of ping pong balls in Sierra Leone, and three months later, I stabbed a guy through his nose to defend a Congolese emissary.” I grabbed my toothbrush and waved it around. “I’ve done some seriously crazy shit.”
“We’re all very impressed,” she drawled.
“I can swim through freezing water for miles with nothing but a compass and a headlamp to find a buddy,” I ranted, spreading toothpaste on the bristles. “And despite surviving all of that, a fucking heiress is breaking me.”
I heard the smile in Tabitha’s voice as she said, “So, a willowy socialite is taking down a hitman, huh?”
“I’m not a hitman.” I paused with the toothbrush halfway to my mouth. “Have you been talking to her?”
“Obviously. We’re like BFFs now.”
I shoved the toothbrush in my mouth. “I thought we were BFFs.”
Tabitha laughed, hollow and totally lacking empathy. “You’re not worried about me being your BFF. You’re worried about me being her BFF. You’ve got it bad.”
I scrubbed my molars, and around the mouthful of paste and bristles, I asked, “Is there a point to this call?”
“Besides letting you rant like a little bitch? Yes. Your ‘employer’ called to ask that we bring Mattie down to go over napkin selections for her party. They’re back from France, apparently.”
I scrubbed harder. “Great.”
“I’m still in favor of extraction,” she said, her voice taking on a serious edge.
I was in danger of lighting a fire on my molars with how aggressively I brushed in response to that. “Don’t remind me,” I said with a mouthful of spit and toothpaste.
“Just stating for the record,” she sighed. “Good luck.”
I finished getting ready, showering first, and then dressing in my dumbass “bodyguard” uniform. A T-shirt and athletic joggers would make a hell of a lot more sense if I was actually guarding an heiress with a penchant for running. But, of course, that wouldn’t look the part. When I was dressed, and I’d combed my silver-streaked hair away from my haggard face, I went to knock on Mattie’s door.
