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I snort to myself. I don't care. Let him hire a “chauffeur,” which we both know is a babysitter and a spy. I don’t care if he wants to waste his money having someone watch me.
All I care about is dancing.
CHAPTERTHREE
Simon
“Do we have an understanding?”
I give the man a curt nod. It takes everything in me not to sneer at Bella's dad, the pretentious fucker. He doesn't give a shit about Bella. All it took was two minutes in his presence to realize all he cares about is protecting his asset. He plans on marrying her off to the highest bidder—whatever it takes to further his political career.
Over my dead body.
It takes every ounce of willpower in me not to knock the fucker out cold where he stands. As it is, I'll do whatever it takes to get close to Bella, so I keep myself in check long enough to secure this job as her private chauffeur.
Now, I have an excuse to be in her presence and keep my eyes on her at all times.
This shady motherfucker thinks he’s hiring someone to spy on his daughter for him and keep her in check, but little does he know I won't really be reporting anything I see to him. No, I'll be watching Bella for my own interests. I'll be more than just a chauffeur for her. I'll be her personal bodyguard. I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even from her piece-of-shit father and his scheming.
The man nods back at me. “Then, go wait in the car, and she'll be down shortly.”
I grind my molars together and try to keep my expression impassive.
I can't stand fuckers like him who talk down to those they view beneath them. As much as it grates on everything in me, I turn to obey him.
I tighten my hands on the steering wheel, my body wound up tighter than a spring as I keep my eyes peeled on the front door waiting for Bella to emerge. I'm going to be driving her to her dance rehearsal. It’s going to be my first time being near her—alonewith her.
I almost don't trust myself.
As soon as she places one foot out the door, I'm reminded why. My cock instantly surges to life in my pants. Fuck, she's beautiful. She's dressed casually in a slouchy top and leggings that show off her shapely legs.
But even more breathtaking than her perfect body are those luminous blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes.
She gets closer and my eyes flick down to those puffy pink lips. Precum starts leaking out of the tip of my cock.
Jesus.
It's a good thing she'll be sitting in the back seat. Otherwise, she’d see this huge tent pitched in the front of my trousers.
I try to discreetly adjust my painful erection as I push the button to have the door automatically open.
She slips in, and I'm immediately assaulted by her sweet flowery scent. It wafts up to me from the backseat, and I feel more moisture bead the tip of my swollen cock.
Christ, this girl is going to be the death of me. How can she smell so sweet and innocent? Everything about her is perfect.
I hit the button to close the door and then clear my throat. “Hello, Bella.” Damn it, my voice still comes out rough.
Her eyes flick to me with a look of bored disinterest, but then they widen as our eyes meet. My chest tightens painfully when our gaze collides for the first time.
I clear my throat again before I rumble, “I’m Simon, your new driver.”
I turn around in the front seat to face her so I have an excuse to get a better look at her. Her eyes skim over my bulky frame, and I try to look as non-threatening as possible. I realize my bulk can be intimidating to some people. It probably doesn't help that I'm not dressed in a suit and tie like a traditional chauffeur, but that's just not me.
Her eyes trail down over my tatted arms before they come back up to rest on my face. “You don't look like a chauffeur.” Her voice comes out in almost a breathy whine. It’s a sound that has my cock surging to full mast in my pants. It's pressing so insistently against my zipper that I hiss in a breath as I try to discreetly adjust myself yet again.
“And what do I look like?” My voice comes out rough like sandpaper.
A pretty blush stains her cheeks when she mumbles, “I don't know.”
