Page 26 of Forced Proximity

Justin’s smile vanishes. He steps toward me with narrowed eyes. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’ I release the words too quickly, like a kid who’s been busted for stealing an extra dessert.

‘Are you hiding something?’

The air in my throat locks. What do I say? He can’t know about me. It’ll ruin everything. ‘I’m not hiding anything.’

‘Open your hands,’ he demands.

I swallow at the dark tone.

‘No.’

He cannot know about my condition. We’re just beginning, finally, to develop a trusting partnership and he’ll immediately think I’m weak and unfit to be his bodyguard. My entire career I’ve had to be faster, smarter and stronger just to be seen as equal, and this will destroy any faith he has in my abilities.

Color fills his face as we engage in a heated stare-down. My pulse kicks up and thuds against my chest. Seconds pass, then he stomps toward me. I read his every emotion. The determination in his steps, the fire in his eyes. He grabs my arm and pulls it in front of me. He’s not going to give up, and I’m not going to fight him. I don’t resist as he pries open my palm.

His eyebrows fold. ‘What the hell is this?’

I open my mouth to explain, then close it. Even if I wasn’t an expert in reading voice inflections or body cues, I would’ve noticed the shift. All warmth is gone.

‘I thought there was something off about you,’ he says, and the tone guts me.

I rip my arm away from his grip. He thought there was something off about me? Asshole. I don’t want to get fired for withholding my medical condition – even though Justin’s team never asked for it – but he has every right to terminate me.

‘There were red flags immediately.’ His jaw hardens into a tight, fierce, angry angle. ‘I can’t believe I ignored the signs.’

The words slash my ego. ‘Red flags? There’s no way—’

‘Where the hell did my team even find you?’ He drags his hands down his face. ‘They know my rules.’

Seriously? It’s not like I asked to be diabetic. And when I reviewed the terms of his contract, a medical questionnaire was not part of their vetting process. Drugs, alcohol and a background check are standard, so his team did their job. What the hell is he talking about, his rules? I stiffen my shoulders and exhale a heavy breath. ‘I understand this might be upsetting, but it’s never once affected my ability to protect.’

‘They should’ve vetted you properly.’ He paces the room with glazed eyes, shoving his hands in and out of his pocket. ‘I should’ve known from the beginning. The fluctuations … you being all hot, then cold. Fucking angry, then all nice. It was right in front of my goddamn face, and I ignored it.’

What? Fluctuations? Should’ve known? I don’t wear the medical bracelet, and I have my condition totally under control. Unless I had a massive blood sugar spike or drop, there’s no way he could’ve known. ‘Look, I really think you’re blowing this out of proportion. I won’t let it jeopardize your safety.’

‘Get out of my house!’

I flinch like he slapped me. ‘You seriously want me to leave?’

‘I’m getting Anthony on the phone. Does your boss know? Does Jack?’ He rips his phone from his pocket. ‘How the hell are you employed? And you’re supposed to protect me? What a fucking joke.’

I swallow hard at the stinging words. My job is my everything. My only thing. It’s my validation, my source of pride, and since my divorce, the only thing besides my family and Marcus that I have left in this world. And he just ripped it away. I never would have thought he’d be this unreasonable. Or this mean.

‘God, you’re such a fucking dick.’ There, I said it, and now I might really be fired. But I don’t even care. I don’t want to spend one more second in this house. ‘It’s not like I asked for this.’

He stuffs the phone back in his pocket without making the call. He’s glaring at me with such disdain, such venom, that his deep hazel eyes are now a midnight sky. I want to turn around and check if a monster is standing behind me, because there’s no way I should be on the receiving end of this much hate.

‘I can’t believe you brought drugs into my home,’ he says.

My mouth drops open. Drugs? I don’t even drink. ‘Wait, what? You think this is drugs?’

The pacing continues, his movements are sharp and agitated. ‘I told everyone this was a bad idea, and nobody listened. I kept telling them how combative you are, and they all looked at me like I was crazy. From day one you talked about trusting you. I should’ve listened to my gut.’

‘Drugs?’ I repeat in complete disbelief. He thinks I’m combative and filled with red flags? How dare he. The amount I’m willing to sacrifice – that I’ve already sacrificed – for my clients, and he says this? My shock morphs into white-hot anger and heat inundates my chest.

‘I can’t believe I let my guard down,’ he fumes, not even looking at me. I’m not even sure if he’s talking to himself or me. ‘I try to keep an open work environment here, and this is what happens? You’re fired. Get the hell out of—’