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Just as I’m about to put the car into drive, my eyes lock on Camille’s. In the dim light of the parking area, she looks sexy as fuck.
I take a deep breath and get a hit of her perfume.
The moment feels intimate, which is something I’m not comfortable with.
I quickly train my eyes to the front and steer us out of the parking area. I rest my arm on the armrest and accidentally bump against Camille. She quickly pulls away and glances out of the window.
The drive to the nightclub where the party is taking place is filled with an uncomfortable silence, but I have zero intention of starting a conversation.
I seriously don’t think Camille and I have anything in common.
When we near the nightclub, I say, “Don’t disappear on me once we’re inside. There will be a lot of people, and any of them can be a threat.”
“Got it,” she whispers.
When I took the job, I expected Camille to throw one hell of a tantrum about having a bodyguard with her twenty-four-seven. Instead, she’s been pretty understanding.
I find a parking spot not too far from the club. “Wait for me to open your door,” I order before I get out of the Bugatti.
Thankfully, Maurice got a special license for me, so I’m able to carry a concealed weapon in a public place.
I make sure my jacket covers my Heckler & Koch and glance around the area for any threats before opening the passenger door. When Camille climbs out, I wrap my arm around her lower back and pull her closer to my body so I’m able to move her at an instant's notice.
“Whoa,” she gasps, her hand pushing against my chest.
Only then do I realize how intimate this might look.
“I just need you close to me until we’re inside.”
“Then ask.”
I pull my arm back but keep my hand on her lower back. “Walk.”
“Jesus,” she whispers.
When we near the bouncer vetting the long queue of people trying to get into the club, Camille’s lips curve up in a polite smile.
“Hi, Louis,” she greets him. “This is my bodyguard.”
The bouncer glances at me before unhooking the red rope so we can pass. Inside the club, we’re stopped by another guard, and this time I’m searched. The man seems a little uneasy around me.
After showing my license for the weapon, I’m carrying, we’re allowed to head to the dance floors.
The club is already full, and this time when I pull Camille to my side, I don’t get snapped at. I take her to the VIP section, where it’s quieter, and when I spot her group of friends, I let go and fall back.
Seriously, these socialites look like carbon copies of each other. But none of them fill a mini dress like Camille.
My eyes touch on her curvy ass for a second too long before scanning every single person in our vicinity.
You have to stop checking out her ass.
When I glance at Camille again, I see as she wishes Sophie a happy birthday. She greets her other friends and takes a seat.
Juliette Faure notices me and asks Camille something. Probably along the lines of who I am.
Walking to the bar, I ask for a bottle of water. I’m just about to twist the cap off when Camille gestures for me to come closer.
“Christ,” I sigh. “This is above my pay grade.”
