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And I hold my throbbing cheek. Stars in my eyes. I feel his anger seep into me, and he’s barely using force anymore.
He’s kneeling and pounding a light fist into my arm. Breathing like he’s on the verge of crying.
So raw and painful that I can’t for a second believe I didn’t do something to cause it.
I’m sorry.
I don’t know what the fuck I did, but I’m so sorry.
Arms pull at my shoulders and then drop to my waist, tugging me, and the voices around me suddenly come into focus. Like someone finally turned up the volume to the television.
“STOP IT!” Jo is shrieking the loudest. She’s pulling at Quinn while I realize Farrow and Jack are dragging me away from the fight.
“Oscar.” Jack’s voice draws my focus. He’s the one directly behind me. He’s the one who’s holding me around the waist and trying to tug me backwards. I realize, he has no Steadicam on anymore. He must’ve snapped it off his chest.
My blood-stained palm slides on top of his hand that’s pressed against my abs.
We’re still in the sand pit. My head is whirling. I turn more to Jack, my arm slipping around him.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, wincing at my swollen cheek.
“No.” I glance over at my brother who slowly rises to his feet. That hurts.
Jack laces our fingers. It almost brings tears to my fucking eyes. Thank God he’s here right now. I suck in a sharp breath.
“What’s wrong with you two?!” Jo screams at us as she holds onto Quinn’s bicep. He doesn’t dare try and fight against her. He spits a wad of blood into the sand.
Thatcher and Akara jog towards us, and I sweep the green. Shit. Fuck me. We’re the center of attention. Guests have crowded the clubhouse’s deck in the distance. Watching us. And it has nothing to do with the golf cart crash.
I can barely think straight right now. It barely registers when Akara says, “Get the fuck out of the sand pit.”
Over comms I hear the Alpha lead say, “Kitsuwon, get a fucking lid on your men.”
The air tenses.
Heat expels from Akara like an inferno of anger. This is a bad look. Kitsuwon Securities is a new company with a low margin for error, and there’s always an undercurrent of acknowledgement that we’re competing in reputation with Price’s Triple Shield.
All of us shuffle onto the green, leaving the bloody sand behind. We head towards the stolen golf cart and smashed bottles of champagne. “Akara—” I start.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t fire both of you right now,” he spits, glancing between me and my brother. “One fucking reason!”
Quinn and I are both quiet.
He should really fire us.
There’s no excuse for brawling at a charity event. But what is my life without security? It’s been a perfect fit from the start like nothing else.
Jack disentangles our hands. “Akara.” He steps closer to my boss. “You can’t fire him.” He sounds like he’s negotiating a contract. Which would probably work for Highland, but this is security.
This is SFO.
He’s an interloper.
Still, I have to applaud my boyfriend, he has some guts.
Akara’s glare detours to Jack. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare use our friendship right here.”
Jack looks hurt. “I can’t ask you for a favor, Akara? Really?”
“Really,” Akara forces. “Not about this. You dating Oscar is great—I approve. Wonderful. But the second it interferes with my men and security, that’s where I have a fucking problem, Jack. I can’t do you a solid by giving partial treatment to Oscar. If he fucks up, there are repercussions.”
Jack nods. “I understand and respect that, so throw out us talking friend-to-friend. How about just rational person to rational person? You can’t fire Oscar. Because you won’t find someone else who can be Charlie’s bodyguard. Not like him.”
Mic drop.
My mouth curves upward.
Highland is good. He knows as long as I’m Charlie’s bodyguard, I might as well be tenured in the position.
Akara cools off somewhat, not disagreeing with Jack.
I nod to my boyfriend in appreciation, and he nods back with a rising forty-watt smile—but we celebrate too soon.
“Mandatory Omega security meeting right after the charity event ends, for all of SFO,” Akara decrees. “Meet up in security’s bus. Temps will escort your clients home.”
Right after the event?
No, no, no.
I’m supposed to drive Jack to his meeting with the docuseries execs. The make-or-break meeting—the one where he might come out with zero job. His whole world blown to smithereens, and I need to be there for my boyfriend. I need to be his shoulder to cry on. His pick-me-up. His pep talk and biggest fan.
I can’t be stuck in a security meeting.
My mind is a Tilt-A-Whirl, barely registering Akara’s next words.
“Oscar and Quinn, you’re off-duty immediately. The SFO meeting is still mandatory, so you’ll have to stick around the event until it’s over.”
