Ky scoffs, “Of course he is. Living the highlife with his high-profile fucking princess.”
“Huge fan of my family, I see,” I rip on him as I continually tug.
“Huge is a bit of an exaggeration.” Ky moves slightly, and I go flying across the front seat as the force of my fight slingshots me back, the door slamming closed with an absurdly loud crash.
Fucker.
I punch the engine on, but he reopens the door before I can pull away.
“Why did you come here?” he leans over me and asks with all seriousness. I get a perfect look at him. All the hard yet soft lines of his face. The golden five o’ clock shadow that matches the messy mop on top of his head. And his eyes. Damn those arresting eyes. They’re almost turquoise from the way the light is hitting them.
I have to remind myself to breathe. Ky Parish has to be one of the most striking men I have ever encountered, slash across his face and all.
“I need help,” I answer honestly, lost in the taxing moment. Lost from the proximity of our faces and the strange attraction to this man. This man I don’t even know, who’s technically my stepbrother, even though we are more strangers than siblings.
“What kind of help?” he entertains me.
I swallow hard. “I think someone is following me. Maybe . . . stalking me?”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“Because I’m not sure.” Ky regards me like I’m crazy. At the moment, I feel exactly that.
“You aren’t sure if someone is stalking you?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” I scramble. “I just know weird things have been happening.”
“Like what?”
“I feel like someone is watching me. When I’m sleeping. When I leave the house. It’s just a creepy feeling.”
“Why come to me? Why not just go to the police?” Ky straightens up, folding his muscled arms across his chest. All the colorful tattoos peeking out from the hem of his short sleeves bulge and ripple as if animated for a short second. The serpent around his forearm eyeing me makes me inwardly shudder. I despise snakes.
“I went to the police. But I have no hard evidence. Just a feeling. They can’t do anything about that.”
I know it sounds insane, but it’s true. Someone is watching me. I feel it every time I walk into my house. It’s freaking me out. And I’m scared. Scared to be alone. Scared to sleep. Scared to walk in and out of my own home from fear of the unknown. Someone, I’m convinced, is fucking with my head.
“Why aren’t you in Paris?”
“With my mom and Gerard? I’m supposed to go at the end of the month. After finals. I’m in grad school.”
“I see,” he muses. “So, what is it that you want from me?”
“I’m not sure, honestly. Help?”
“What kind of help? A bodyguard?”
I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m just . . . just . . .”
“Just what?” Ky presses. The weight of his stare feels like a thousand pounds of sand being poured on top of me. I suffocate under it.
“Scared, okay,” I exasperate. “I’m scared.” I hate admitting that, but it’s the truth.
Ky continues to gaze down at me in all his menacing glory. I wish I knew what he was thinking. He’s more stoic than a Roman statue.
“I’m nobody's bodyguard, Snow.”
Snow?
