Page 29 of My Bodyguard’s The Boss

“We could stay home,” Austin continued. “You could keep telling me to suck on things.”

Dominic’s eyes darkened. For a wild moment, Austin thought he had won. Even if he couldn’t talk Dominic into staying, he could talk him into fucking again.

Dominic took his jaw, squeezing firmly but gently. The pressure made Austin’s knees weak.

“Or,” Dominic said slowly. “We can go. And if you’re good, I can give you a reward after I take you home.”

Austin wanted to argue. But his brain had gone fuzzy, picturing all the ways Dominic would reward him later.

Dominic stroked his thumb over the bolt of Austin’s jaw. “Austin?”

“Okay,” Austin heard himself say. “Yeah, alright.”

“Good.” Dominic released him, and Austin almost stumbled forward. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been leaning into Dominic’s touch.

Dominic did up the third undone button on Austin’s shirt. Then he stood back, touching his earpiece. His face was impassive, his suit unruffled. He looked entirely unaffected by promising his boss sexual rewards later.

“Finish your food,” Dominic said. “The car’s waiting.”

Austin stared around the gala, tapping impatiently on his champagne flute.

He still had two buttons undone. But he suddenly wanted to undo Dominic’s work and pop open another one. Everything was too tight—his shirt, his pants, even the air felt oppressive. For once, he didn’t mind that nobody was coming over to talk to him. He probably looked even scarier than usual, glowering over the crowd from the corner of the room. A fellow actor once told him that he looked like he was calculating what he could use for a weapon in any given room. If only they knew he was obsessing over his bodyguard, who was standing an infuriating distance away. Not too far, obviously, but not too close. Not like Austin wanted him.

The bastard still looked entirely unaffected. And Austin couldn’t do anything about it with all these people around. He had definitely done something to Dominic back in the kitchen; he’d seen the look in Dominic’s eyes. But the second they were in public, Dominic was all business.

Which was probably good for a bodyguard. Austin would have to give him a glowing review when he finally moved on—an idea Austin shut down whenever it appeared. He refused to think about that right now. They’d just started this… whatever it was. Austin didn’t need to worry about it ending. Right?

Dominic was standing next to the wall a few feet away, his hands behind his back. If he wasn’t constantly scanning the area for threats, Austin would say he was standing at parade rest.

Someone cleared their throat next to him. “May I take your glass?”

Austin looked over. The waitress didn’t look at him, her face hidden under her hat. It was the same stupid cap all the other wait staff were wearing, something promoting the company that was sponsoring the gala. It didn’t suit anybody, but especially not this waitress, whose dark, blocky hair was tucked awkwardly underneath it.

Austin shrugged and held out his glass, which had been empty for a few minutes now.

“Thank you,” the waitress said, placing it on her tray. Austin waited for her to swan off into the crowd, but she just stood there, watching him. Her hands were a little too tight around the tray, her knuckles going white around it.

Nerves, Austin assumed. A lot of fans were nervous about talking to him. She wouldn’t⁠—

Austin turned to her. “Do you want an autograph?”

The waitress smiled, the movement barely visible from how far she was tilting her cap over her face.

“I’d love that,” she said. She didn’t sound nervous, which should have tipped Austin off. That, and she was just as tall as he was. But Austin only felt a faint niggle of anxiety as he took a napkin off the tray and a pen out of his pocket, which he carried for emergencies just like this.

“I bet everyone’s too scared to ask you for an autograph,” the woman continued. “I bet they can sense how dangerous you are.”

Austin laughed woodenly. “I’m not that dangerous, I promise.”

“No,” the woman said. “You are. Just like me.”

Austin paused mid-signature. That voice was so familiar.

He looked closer at the woman. Her face was still half-hidden by the cap, but her hands were visible. And her wrists. His stomach dropped as he caught sight of several telltale tattoos poking out from her sleeves. He recognized those tattoos.

“Gail,” he said.

Gail grinned. She tipped her face up, and he stared into the face of the woman who had been stalking him for years. The woman who had snuck into the last gala and hid a gun in her stolen staff locker. The woman who wanted him to be the Joker to her Harley, never mind that he had no interest in being anyone’s Joker, let alone hers.