Page 52 of My Bodyguard’s The Boss

“You think Brent can take me on?”

“I think you need to fuck off,” Austin said. “That’s an order. Just because you got off on making me call you ‘sir’ doesn’t mean you were ever in charge.”

Dominic stared at him, reeling. “Austin, what the hell happened? I thought we were good. I thought we were great.”

“Sure you did,” Austin said flatly. “Don’t bother, man. They have you on video.”

“What?”

Austin shoved at him again. This time Dominic let him go, reeling. Who caught him on video? What the hell could he possibly have said or done to piss Austin off this much?

Austin stalked toward the car, head down, hands jammed in his pockets. He was walking for the driver's seat, Dominic noticed. He only drove himself when he needed to get out of his head.

Dominic twisted desperately to look at his own car parked beside them. Rose petals and a collar in the passenger seat. How could things fall apart so damn fast?

“Austin,” he called.

Austin didn’t reply. He didn’t even throw up a middle finger like Dominic expected. He just paused, his gaze trained over Dominic’s shoulder. Then he pointed.

“Get that shithead off my property,” he said. “Call it your one last hurrah as my bodyguard.”

Dominic turned. There was a man with a camera around his neck and twigs in his hair staring at them, frozen. He had obviously been trying to make it to the fence.

They have you on video, Austin had said.

Dominic took off. The man—whose name was Larry Gilroy, a thirty-something paparazzo who wrote How To articles on the side to make rent—started sprinting for the fence. It was no use. Dominic was big, but he was fast.

Dominic tackled him into the impeccably trimmed lawn. Larry grunted, all the breath whooshing out of him.

“Larry,” Dominic spat, kneeling on his back and holding Larry’s head against the grass. “You remember what I said I’d do to you if I caught you here again?”

“Please don’t,” Larry wheezed, curling protectively around his camera. The lens cover had flown off, but otherwise it looked undamaged. That wouldn’t last long.

“Heard somebody filmed me saying something incriminating,” Dominic said. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Larry?”

“Nope,” Larry said shakily.

Behind them, Austin’s car whirred to life and skidded down the driveway, throwing up gravel. Dominic turned to watch it speed off toward the gate.

He would fix this. He had to. Whatever Austin thought he knew, he’d figure it out and get it all straightened out. The rose petal shit could just be an apology. Or an explanation. Or making the best of a shitty night.

Larry whimpered. Dominic looked back down and realized his hand had tightened around Larry’s head, pressing him harder into the grass.

Dominic reluctantly eased up. “What’s this crap I hear about a video? What video?”

“Wait, you haven’t seen it?” Larry said, incredulous. “Seriously? It’s been blowing up every celeb site for hours!”

Dominic knelt harder on Larry’s spine.

“Ow! Shit!” Larry writhed under him, his arms twitching around the camera he was clutching. “It’s a balcony shot! Yesterday morning, in your boxers! You were talking about breaking up with Austin!”

“What was that?” Dominic knelt even harder.

“I mean Mr. Wayne,” Larry said, strained. “Ow! Fuck, you gotta get off me, I’m still recovering from that slipped disc, remember?”

Dominic did remember. He also remembered that Larry was the one who snapped photos of Austin crying after his dad had a heart attack. Those photos never made it to print. Dominic had taken care of that, crushing Larry’s camera under his boot and letting him know that if he ever stepped foot on these grounds again, Dominic would do much worse.

“I never talked about breaking up with Austin,” Dominic said.