1
The Client from Hell
TERRANCE
“You’ll be stayingat the client’s estate north of Ardaine, in Brentwood. They’re offering you a private suite, all meals provided. There’s cleaning staff, access to a gym, indoor and outdoor swimming pools, a sauna, and a tennis court.”
Listing the over-the-top perks of my new assignment, my boss appeared sheepish. Devon Hassel, the head of Cassidy and Hassel Security, was usually straight to the point. And he never looked sheepish.
“Do you play tennis?” he asked, lifting his eyes from the screen.
“No.”
“Maybe you can learn?”
I just stared at him. My experience said that if the icing was this sweet, the cake would taste awful. Whatever this new assignment was, I wasn’t going to like it.
“Anyway, moving on,” Devon muttered as he scrolled and tapped on the tablet. “The client’s manager wants you to start tomorrow. I’m aware it’s only been a weeksince the job at the Sullivans’ ended, but I need you to handle this one. I negotiated an extra week of vacation for you later, when the client might be at an event in Europe.”
“Will you finally tell me who it is?”
“I want you to keep an open mind.”
I respected the hell out of my boss, but I was running out of patience. “Who?”
Devon folded his arms on the table and met my gaze before saying the two damning words. “Lothair Courtemanche.”
Well, shit.
My eyebrows went up, but I managed to remain in my chair. “Hewants security? That man needs a basic sense of self-preservation, not a bodyguard!”
Lothair Courtemanche was a dragon alpha in his thirties, a famous stuntman, actor, and underwear model, among many other things. He’d also been the most mentioned name in the tabloids for the past couple of years, by a good margin. He seemed like he could take care of himself—at least when he wasn’t speeding through a desert on a rocket-fueled car, jumping off a bridge, or intentionally putting himself in other types of mortal danger for fame and money.
Devon ignored my outburst. “Courtemanche has received a pile of threats recently. His manager insists on improved security measures, including around-the-clock detail.”
“Does his manager know he’s working for a dragon shifter?”
“No. The manager is human, like most people who work for Courtemanche. He turned to us because of our reputation.”
“I’m going to be babysitting a hyperactive egomaniac with a death wish.”
Devon smirked. “You said working for Leonard Sullivan had been boring.”
“It was just cupcakes, hair salons, and waiting around photography studios. But I like Leo. We’re friends.”
“Maybe you’ll learn to like Lothair Courtemanche.”
“Did you know he bragged about how many men he bedded last year?”
“Yeah? How many?”
“One hundred and thirty-three.”
“Interesting fact for you to memorize.”
I pursed my lips. Busted. I found Lothair oddly fascinating—in a perverse, half-amused, half-horrified way—so I followed some of his craziest antics on social media. It didn’t mean I wanted to follow him around in real life. Quite the opposite.
Devon put his tablet aside and folded his arms. I knew by the look on his face that he wouldn’t budge an inch.
