Page 30 of The Forbidden Bodyguard

He’s my bodyguard, so that’s completely inappropriate, and thank God he had the wherewithal to not let my moment of weakness go further.

I’m sure he has a lot of women throwing themselves at him.

Which is not what I did.

Still, the image of him lifting me up and carrying me inside where he’d fuck me senseless is still in my mind as his thigh shifts beside me and I do a little jump.

“You okay?” he rasps.

“Yes,” I say, too pitchy, then clear my throat. “Fine. Very fine.” Oh my God, stop talking. “We should get out here and walk around the block along Eleventh Avenue.”

Declan gives the driver instructions to meet us a few blocks away while I climb out and gather myself.

Focus on the book.

Declan joins me on the sidewalk, and we stand next to one another as the black town car disappears. I glance around me, trying like hell to ignore the delicious heat emitting from his huge frame.

Tucking my coat around me, I dig my hands into my pockets and start walking and observing those around me.

Is this what my heroine would do? Have her driver drop her at an art gallery and walk these streets? Yes, she would. Although she wouldn’t have a sexy bodyguard or driver. She’d probably use Uber or a cab.

I don’t know what that feels like. I’ve had security all my life because of my family. That won’t change when I marry Mr. Marino.

Calling him Tony feels too...intimate.

Sadness glides through me, feeling heavy as I go over the meeting with my parents. I’m not a mom, but it’s bewildering to me that they are letting this happen. If I had a daughter, I’d pack her up and drive across the country where we were safe.

Move to Australia or Iceland.

I don’t know, but I wouldn’t stand back and let my husband marry my beautiful daughter to a monster.

I googled him.

He is a monster.

I was raised to fear my father and obey him. As a child, I was terrified of him and, if I think about it, I don’t really know him. Not really. We don’t have a relationship filled with loving memories. He never took me to a daddy-daughter dance or on daddy-daughter dates. He never came to a ballet recital, nor curled up on my bed and read me a book.

We never had a puppy and went to the park with it.

Sure, we had vacations as a family, but there are no photos of us on a yacht in the Mediterranean or at Disney. Instead, we traveled to Switzerland, where I was sent off with nannies to the beginner slopes and taught to ski while he took business calls and then hit the big slopes.

Or we’d go to our summer home in the Hamptons, where I’d spend day after day in the pool with Charlotte and other friends. Dad was either in his study or playing golf with business associates who vacationed in the area.

In the evenings we always hosted dinners, so there was no family time. I didn’t dare speak to him. Those were the rules.

So how could I know Victor Voss?

Declan steps forward to divert a fast-walking passerby from bumping into me. Then he slips a step behind me. I’m used to this dance with private security, but I want him beside me, and it’s not just because I’m wildly attracted to him. To his scent, his aura, his size and sexuality.

That’s when I realize something so blindingly obvious I missed.

Declan must think I’m a slut.

I asked him if he was going to kiss me while engaged to marry another man.

Except I’m not...well, I am...but not...

Fuck.