“Put your key on the coffee table on your way out,” he says, ice in his voice. “And don’t come back. We’re done. For good.”
Alyssa stares at us, trembling with fury. “You’ll regret this,” she hisses. “Both of you.” She spins on her heel, storming out of the room. Moments later, we hear something clatter on the coffee table, followed by the front door slamming so hard the walls seem to shake.
Silence falls over the room. I turn to look at Wyatt, finding him already watching me, his expression unreadable.
And then, inexplicably, he starts to laugh.
It bubbles up from his chest, starting as a chuckle before morphing into full-blown hysterics. The absurdity of the situation hits me too—both of us naked, me caught with my face between his legs by his ex-girlfriend, who managed to let herself into his apartment unannounced. I join in, laughing until my stomach hurts, until tears leak from the corners of Wyatt’s eyes for an entirely different reason than earlier.
“Oh my god,” Wyatt gasps when he can finally speak again. “Her face. Did you see her face?”
I nod, wiping at my eyes. “I thought she was going to faint.”
“I should probably be more worried about her threat,” Wyatt says, his laughter subsiding. “But fuck it. Let her tell whoever she wants.”
I sober, reality setting in. “She might actually tell your father. If he finds out, my career in private security is over. No one will hire a bodyguard who sleeps with his clients.”
His expression softens. “We could leave. I have trust funds, more money than I could spend in three lifetimes. We could go anywhere.”
“Wyatt Kingsley, are you asking me to be your kept man?” I tease.
He smacks my shoulder lightly. “I’m serious. We have options.”
I pull him closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I know. But running away isn’t the answer.” I sigh, resting my chin on top of his head. “It seems like we need to tell your parents about us sooner rather than later.”
I feel him nod against my chest. “Agree.”
“It won’t be easy,” I warn. “They might not understand.”
Wyatt pulls back to look at me, determination clear in his eyes. “Then we’ll make them understand.”
18
Wyatt
My heart hammers against my ribs as we walk down the familiar hallway of my childhood home. Gray’s presence behind me radiates steady calm, but I know better. We’ve rehearsed this conversation a dozen times since this morning, but rehearsing telling my father I’m sleeping with my bodyguard is a far cry from actually doing it. I wipe my sweaty palms against my thighs and glance back at Gray. His eyes meet mine, and the corner of his mouth lifts in the smallest reassuring smile. It’s enough.
The staff member leading us knocks on my father’s office door. “Mr. Kingsley, your son and Mr. Holt are here to see you.”
“Send them in,” my father’s voice calls from inside.
We step into the office, and I’m not surprised to see my mother perched on the leather armchair beside my father’s desk. She rises when we enter, concern etching lines into her face.
“Wyatt, honey. Is everything all right? When you called and said you needed to speak with us urgently…” She trails off, her eyes darting between me and Gray.
“Everything’s fine, Mom.” I try to sound casual, but my voice cracks. “We just need to talk to you and Dad about something important.”
My father stands, buttoning his suit jacket in one smooth motion and gesturing toward the sitting area near the fireplace. “Please, sit.”
Gray and I exchange glances before moving to the couch. We sit close enough that our thighs almost touch, but not quite.
My mother joins us, settling into an armchair while my father remains standing, studying us with that penetrating gaze that’s made business rivals squirm for decades.
“Sir,” Gray begins, his voice steady despite what I know must be raging nerves, “I wanted to speak with you about the position you offered me.”
My father nods. “I thought you might need more time to consider. It’s a significant step up from your current role.”
“It’s not that, sir.” Gray sits straighter, his shoulders squaring. “I can’t accept it.”
