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That cocky smirk stays on his lips. “I know what you were thinking.”
“Oh?” I give him a flat look. “Do enlighten me.”
“You were thinking that I look like I’m good in bed.”
“No, I was actually thinking that you look like someone who preheats the microwave.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but then pauses. His brows furrow as he frowns while staring at the wall behind me for a solid ten seconds. As if he is trying to figure out what that even means.
Then he blinks, apparently finally having realized that it was an insult, and snaps his gaze back to me.
“Hey, what the fuck?” he protests, shaking his head at me with a bewildered frown on his face.
“The fact that it also took you ten seconds to figure that one out isn’t really helping your efforts to disprove my assessment.”
“What are you?—”
“But nice try, Sparky.” I flick my hair back behind my shoulder and start towards the door. “I’ll text you the address to my apartment. Don’t be late.”
“Hey, what the…?” he blurts out, but I just keep walking. “I…”
A wicked grin shines on my mouth as I saunter up to the door and push it open.
“It’s Jace!” he calls after me.
I laugh under my breath while giving him a nonchalant wave with the back of my hand. Then I disappear out the door.
This is going to be so much fun.
4
JACE
Kayla Ashford is not at all what I was expecting. A twenty-year-old real estate heiress and university student… She should be ecstatic to have me as her bodyguard. I mean, come on. I’m hot. I’m funny. I’m a fucking delight.
But instead she hit me with that damn microwave insult. Which I have to admit was pretty clever. But still. So rude.
Oh well, if opportunity doesn’t knock the first time, I’ll just kick the door in and create a better first impression this time. Metaphorically, I mean.
Checking the number next to the apartment door, I make sure that it’s the same address as the one Kayla texted me yesterday, and then I raise my hand to knock.
Almost half a minute passes. I’m just about to knock again when the door is pushed open.
“What?” a guy snaps as he glares out at me.
I frown at him. He’s a few inches shorter than me, but he’s built like a brick. Stocky, and with the neck the size of a bull. His head is shaved, tattoos cover his knuckles, and he’s wearing a white tank top that has yellow stains underneath the arms. Over his shoulder, I can spot a guy who is similarly dressed, but who has greasy brown hair instead.
These are Trent Ashford’s bodyguards? They look like thugs. And very unimpressive thugs at that.
Jeez, Kayla really should be thanking me for replacing them and lighting up her apartment with my dazzling presence instead.
“I’m here for Kayla,” I say, giving Bull Neck an expectant look.
His eyes flash.
My stomach lurches as I’m suddenly hauled across the threshold. I blink in surprise as Bull Neck slams me up against the wall of the hallway inside, while Greasy Hair charges towards us.
“Calm the fuck down,” I say. “She?—”
