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“It’s not your choice,” I reply tightly and try my best to give him a stern look. How can he be so intimidating when he looks like he should have white sunscreen over his nose while shooting pictures of all the touristy top spots?
“What about your mom?” he asks.
I spin in my seat to face him. What does he know about my mom? Why does he know about her? I talk about my parents as little as I mention Roman. “What about her?”
“You can stay with her.”
Mother’s words echo in my head. It’s for your own good, honey.You have to learn to take care of yourself, and living with me isn’t it. And then two years later when her tone oozed disappointment. Really, Penni? You felt abandoned by your father, so you marry a guy just like him?
“The studio is fine.” My voice shakes even as I say it. I channel the energy into defensiveness. “If it doesn’t have enough comfort for you, don’t take the job.”
He tucks his phone into the cargo pockets of his wrinkled shorts. “No one else will, swan.”
I draw back, hating that I like the ring of the nickname. As a little girl I had big dreams of playing Odette in Swan Lake. “What’d you call me?”
There’s a flash of oh shit like he didn’t realize he said it out loud, but it is smothered by arrogance, reminding me of Roman. “Swan. A tall, graceful bird that everyone loves to look at but doesn’t really think deeper about otherwise.”
The audacity. My cheeks burn with the accurate description of me.
“Jesus,” Jacobi mutters.
Cannon ignores him and pushes off the wall to stalk toward me. I swallow hard. There’s an edge to him that I haven’t noticed before, and it sends shivers through my body. “What do you think your husband is going to say when he finds out that you’re staying at the studio with a guy?”
Roman’s never been concerned about the men in my life. “I have a male colleague at the studio who used to be my competition partner. The guy who’s my current competitive partner—”
“You don’t sleep with them under the same roof, Penelope. Roman Hughes isn’t threatened by male dancers. He thinks he’s better than them. He thinks he’s more of a man.”
I don’t have a rebuttal. He’s right.
“Cannon,” London admonishes.
Cannon’s undaunted. Another overly confident guy who thinks he knows better than me. “Bodyguards aren’t just shadows. She needs to listen. She needs to do what I say. She can’t argue because her pride’s hurt or because her little privileged feelings get in the way of my experience.”
“Experience?” I laugh. “You? What have you protected lately? You break up marriages and sleep with Jacobi’s maids.”
London tenses to rise, but Jacobi lays a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head. He must think Cannon and I have to fight this out for ourselves or the bodyguard arrangement won’t work. I’m not sure whether I should be flattered he thinks I can handle myself or if he’s just someone else who isn’t sure I can do it.
Cannon is somehow closer, and I didn’t notice him move. “Tell me, swan, how many people have you saved with your dance competitions?”
I grind my teeth. Whenever my father or Roman disparaged my dance, tears came fast and hot. Right now, it’s rage. I stand, losing all the natural grace I’ve built over the years.
“Dancing is a sport. If you don’t shit on football players, don’t shit on dancers.”
“I couldn’t care less about football players. You questioned my ability to do my job. You, who knows nothing about danger or sacrifice or service.” He towers over me, and his shoulders block out the sun. It should have been intimidating. I hated when Roman loomed over me, but the shiver that hits my spine isn’t trepidation. “The next time you want to question what I have to say, ask yourself, ‘Have I ever physically blocked another human being with my body to keep them from getting shot?’ ” He tilts his head as he pretends to think. “Or maybe, ‘Have I ever used the cover of a vehicle to shoot at men hidden in the mountains so me and my men can finish nothing but a simple drive to a jobsite?’ ”
London had mentioned Cannon had been in the military. I don’t recall what I’d thought other than disbelief and that maybe he did the same in the military as he’s doing now—breaking up marriages and sleeping with other people’s staff members.
But I’m not going to be cowed by his dismissive attitude. Okay, so he knows more than I do regarding bodyguard stuff. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m a real person underneath the wealth I grew up in. My voice shakes. “My days of meekly listening to a man tell me how stupid I am and how little I know are over.”
Cannon’s jaw turns to granite, and I hope I’m not fooling myself when I think I see him flinch.
Emboldened, I continue. “If you want to change my plans, you can tell me why, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t assume that I’m being a spoiled little bitch when I question you, slick.”
I called him slick when I first met him. Something about the old-fashioned nickname fit him. If he combed his hair back and wore a suit, he’d look like he walked out of the fifties with those wide shoulders. He’s got a perfect body for a suit. I can barely tell under his rumpled clothing, but apparently I’ve studied him enough.
His eyes narrow. I’ve never been this physically close to Cannon before. I’ve hung out with him, Jacobi, and their other friend, Kase, before, but it’s always been with London and Holland. I heard the crap the guys gave each other, and I astutely ignored Cannon and his scrutinizing gaze.
But this close, the flecks of yellow in his blue eyes glow under the Malibu sun. The depth of his expression is startling. This guy isn’t who I assumed he was, and I get the distinct impression that the sloppy, unambitious man he presents to the world is exactly what he wants us to see.
