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“Where is she?”
“I’m sorry.” The redhead draws herself up like she might actually stop me. “Who are you?”
“Murph?”
The angelic sound of Angelica’s voice coming from inside the house almost brings me to my knees. Fucking hell, how have I gone an entire year without hearing her say my name? “I’m here, kid.” I step around the woman attempting to block my entrance into the house.
And here comes the girl that haunts my mind twenty-four hours a day.
She runs around the corner into the foyer wearing a tiny, pink satin nightgown with nothing underneath. Barefoot. Golden hair loose and flowing around her shoulders. Nipples in spikes and tenting the shiny material. I make a hoarse sound before I can stop myself, my cock pitching a tent behind my fly, heart lodging itself in my throat.
“Murph,” she says again, moisture flooding her eyes. “You’re really here.”
My heart pounds out of control. “Of course I am.” That’s when I notice the bandage on her knee and fury rips through me like the slash of a sword. “What happened to your knee? You were hurt?”
Her bare feet slap on the ground as she barrels toward me, launching herself into my arms, distracting me for a second with her beauty. Christ, how did the most gorgeous girl on the planet manage to get even prettier? I have no earthly idea…but her smell is exactly the same. Vanilla sugar cookies. How many times have I gone into a bakery over the last year just trying to get her scent into my nose? “No. I just tripped,” she sighs into my neck. “It’s nothing.”
Momentarily reassured, but planning to ask more questions later, I can’t stop myself from sliding my scarred, beat up fingers into her hair. “So.” I swallow hard. “You went and got famous on me, huh?”
“Yeah. I guess.” There’s something guarded in her tone that I want to question her about, but I’m conscious of our audience. It’s not only the snooty manager now. Her security team has slowly joined us in the foyer, three out of four of them looking everywhere but at me—Miller, the newest hire, manages to look me in the eye, at least. Plus two fancy-looking young people with clipboards. “Can you stay?” Angelica mumbles into my neck, her legs lifting to hook around my hips. “I already feel better with you here.”
My blood thickens, most of it heading south. Fuck me. Holding her like this is heaven and hell at the same time. Heaven because she fits me so perfectly, her little bare cunt molded to my fly. Hell because I’ve made a vow to myself to keep my hands off her and I’m not breaking it. She asked me for protection. Not for my cock. If she wanted what I’ve got between my legs, she would have called before a full year passed. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re safe.”
She slumps against me. “Thank you.”
I grunt, pulling her against me more securely.
The security team is well acquainted with me. But the rest of the people in the room look horrified over their goddess pop diva boss being cradled by a beast.
That’s one of the reasons my feelings for Angelica need to stay buried.
On the impossible chance she wanted to be with me, I won’t have folks looking at her like she’s insane everywhere she goes. And that’s exactly what would happen. Because my big, hulking, scary ass alongside this petite fairy princess isn’t just absurd, it’s a crime against decency.
Secondly, I can’t betray Joe.
I’ve barely been able to speak to her father on the phone, let alone look him in the eye, ever since what happened on the floor of his living room. Ever since I dry humped his precious daughter right under his nose and said truly despicable things to her that I can never take back.
In the interest of keeping our relationship professional, as badly as it pains me, I settle Angelica back onto her feet. Though my heart turns over when she refuses to leave me completely, nestling herself into my side. “Where is the surveillance footage?” I growl at her head of security.
Goddammit, I should have been the head of her team. If I trusted myself to be around her without putting my blood-stained hands on her, I would have been.
One of them steps forward and clears his throat. “The perpetrator scaled the fence on the east side of the house, but we only know that because some of the brush was disturbed. They used spray paint to black out the cameras.”
My stomach churns. This doesn’t sound like some bumbling super fan. It sounds like someone who knows what they’re doing. I do my best not to betray my alarm to Angelica. “Were there shoe prints? Tire tracks left behind?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Sir?” The redhead snorts. “Why are you suddenly reporting to this man now? We don’t even know who he is.”
