Page 12 of Forced Proximity

‘You don’t need some sort of criminal justice degree to do this work?’

And here it comes. My gut tightens, preparing for the elitist slap I’m about to get. A man like Justin who was handed everything at birth will never understand someone like me who had to fight for everything. ‘Nope.’

Even though curiosity laces his tone, I can feel his pity stares burning into me. Justin Greenwood is one of those. And I have no time for those. This situation reminds me of when I protected an Ivy League-educated CEO of a Silicon Valley tech company for a month last year, who immediately dismissed any of my opinions when he asked me about my educational background.

‘Interesting. I assumed you would’ve had to go to college for this.’ The chair creaks as he leans back. ‘I went to USC.’

‘I’ve read your file,’ I say with a much harsher tone than intended. This conversation needs to shift back to professional before I overheat. ‘Since we’ll be working together until this blows over, we have to lay some ground rules. We tried yesterday and got nowhere. First, I’ll need to know every detail of your schedule, and I’ll be escorting you wherever you go.’

The air feels like it was just syphoned from the room. Whatever hint of a grin Justin may have had vanishes. ‘How does that work?’ he says, the softness gone from his tone. ‘You can’t possibly go everywhere with me.’

God, this attitude. He’s the one that needs protection, not me. What did he expect? That he’ll ring some bell if there’s trouble? ‘Unless there’s a threat and I need to sweep the room first, you’re free to use the bathroom and bedroom—’

‘Jesus Christ. Sweep it? For some bored idiot sending me some fucked-up packages?’ His jaw twitches. ‘Do you all understand that stuff like this happens literally all the time to people in the entertainment world? You’re not sweeping my place. I live in a gated community with security guards. I have an alarm. A ten-foot fence surrounds my property. In my house, we’re good.’

I refuse to acknowledge his protests. Throughout my entire life, men like him have dismissed me. High school jerks. My fellow recruits. The men I protect. He may think he’s better than me, but I’m better than him when it comes to personal security. And I’ll be damn sure to prove it.

‘I’ll talk to your staff and the gate security team, check delivery logs, run backgrounds on people who work for your neighbors, et cetera.’ I continue as his shoulders tense and red fans across his face. ‘I need your contacts: doctor, pharmacist, anyone who may have access to personal records. Who details your car? What company does your landscaping? Does the same pool cleaner come every week? How about housekeepers? Do you have regular maintenance—’

‘Enough!’ He slams down his cup, the last of the coffee tipping over the edge. ‘This is so goddamn invasive. You gonna check all the women that come over here, too? Search through my DMs?’

‘Yes.’ I level my gaze as blood rings in my ears. He has no right to question my methods.

A long, tension-filled moment follows as he matches my heated gaze. ‘That’s gonna take some time.’

I’m not surprised. He’s exactly what I thought he’d be – an entitled playboy. Probably has hordes of women rotating through his home. This friendly demeanor, making me coffee, smiling and asking questions, is an act.

Justin heavy-foots it to the sink and grips the edges. He turns the water on and spends several long moments washing his hands. His shoulders tighten, drop and tighten again. ‘The studio hired you, not me. I think it’s a bunch of bullshit, honestly.’ He rips off a paper towel, then faces me as he wipes his hands. ‘But, if we’re going to be together for the next several months, there are some ground rules I’m laying out.’

The knot in my gut just tightened so hard it may have snapped my celiac artery. ‘You’re laying out ground rules for me? You cannot be serious. You realize your team hired me to protect you, right? I have over twelve years’ experience. I’ve protected people way more high profile than you.’ See if his fragile ego can handle that. ‘Like it or not, when it comes to your safety, I’m the one calling the shots. Not you.’

He slams his arms across his broad chest, the shirt straining against his biceps. ‘What’s your problem? I’ve been nothing but nice to you and you’ve been such a—’

‘Such a what?’ Flames fire in my chest. I dare him to say what’s on the tip of his tongue. ‘It’s not like I’m begging for this job. I didn’t even want to take this assignment.’

‘Then why the hell did you take it?’ he snaps. ‘I’m certainly not forcing you to be here. I told Anthony I didn’t even want you here. I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but you’re not needed. I can handle myself.’

Unreal. Once again, Justin’s manager refusing to bring him in on the level of threats puts me in a compromising position. Why did I ever agree to this? Is this some self-flagellation to make up for my past? I tug on the bottom of my shirt and take a sharp breath. ‘Fine. What are your rules?’

‘One, you’re not going through my text messages, emails or DMs. Period.’ He drops his arms and shoves them in his pocket. ‘And two, if I have a woman over, you stay downstairs. Because that’s seriously awkward, and I don’t need you messing with my game.’

‘Listen.’ I exhale hard through my nose. ‘It’s obvious we don’t like each other. And that’s okay. We don’t have to. I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here to be your bodyguard. That’s it. If you don’t want me to investigate who’s doing this, fine. Keep your messages to yourself. We’ll just wait for them to strike and hope I’m close enough to stop it.’

A blank stare meets me. God, he seriously has zero respect.

‘And as far as “messing with your game”,’ I continue, my eyes narrowing because we’re grown fucking adults and who even talks like that? ‘I highly doubt with the personality you’ve shown so far that I’d be the one screwing up things. I imagine the women are more after your fame or money than your conversational skills.’

Oh, shit. That went way too far.

Yes, I love the adrenaline rush of a fight. The words allow me to verbally release inner fire. I treat arguments just like a threat. When provoked, I go for the jugular – always. Every fight, verbal or physical, is a competition, a chance to win, an opportunity to show people like him that I’m tougher, stronger and smarter.

But this? This isn’t nice. Seriously, what’s wrong with me? He needs to say something back. Storm from the room. Throw a plate. Something to help me justify what I’ve just done.

Instead, his eyes cast downward, and I feel sick.

‘We’re done here. Your shift starts tomorrow, right?’ His voice is much quieter than it was a minute ago. ‘Let’s hope this stalker comes out soon, and you and I can end our working relationship as quickly as it started.’

‘Agreed,’ I say, but really, I want to apologize. This isn’t me. Ever since Katey and I split, a part of me has changed for the worse, and I’m taking it out on people like Justin. It’s unfair but I can’t back down. For him to trust that I’m strong enough to protect him, I’ll never let him see any weakness. Even if it’s toward him.