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“More like a stalker that would surgically attach himself to you if that was an option,” I grumbled under my breath. “I have security.”
“Yeah, well. At least mine could cut his way out of a wet paper bag with skill. No offense, but yours? Looks like they’d suffocate trying.”
I chuckled lightly at that. It was idiotic, but whatever delusions she needed to keep herself warm at night. “Of course they do. ” I stood to my feet, brushing my long ponytail from the arch of my shoulder. “I’m going to get coffee. I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” she called, throwing her hand in the air while she eye fucked the shadows like she was about to get off just from Stitch’s dark eyes alone.
“Fucking serial killers.” The door shut behind me and I turned toward Ronnie. “I’m grabbing coffee. One of you stays here.” Then I walked off to the right, heading down the street on Main without any idea who had chosen to follow me.
I often directed everything at Ronnie because he never bought into this bullshit about never talking to me.
Killian, however, hadn’t uttered a word to me in the five years he’d worked for me.
Nothing other than “The brand of a queen.”
I could still hear it, and it still made me fucking quiver.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Killian
I followed Alessia down the street and toward the coffee shop. I was a foot away from her. Leaving her enough space that she didn’t feel crowded but still close enough that I could take out any threat, should one arise. I’d kill for her in a heartbeat and within the last five years, had proven that plenty.
Not that she needed protection.
The woman was fiercer than a force of nature. I didn’t fear anything in this world. I’d already seen the cut-throat nightmares of the underworld first hand. But making a woman like Alessia Black my enemy, sure as fuck scared the hell out of me.
I’d seen enough of her in the half a decade I’d been her guard to know that she was someone to watch with caution. She could handle herself just fine and this Alessia she showed the world, was nothing compared to the one she showed us behind closed doors.
She’d never break a sweat, never creased those delicate brows. Even an expert in behavioral mannerism wouldn’t have a clue what the fuck she was thinking.
I reached for the door before she could and pulled it open for her. She frowned at me and then smirked. “Aw. Bitch number two decided to follow me today.” Stepping inside, I followed close behind without offering any kind of response.
She’d adopted the name for me and Ron and had used it every day since the moment her father assigned us to her.
It didn’t bother me because I knew I was nobody’s bitch.
Everyone in the coffee shop glanced at us fleetingly. It wasn’t every day you saw someone dressed in my unusual attire, accompanying a stunning woman like Alex.
Most knew who we were and to what family we belonged.
But there were always the tourists.
Those who passed through and saw the three of us walking around town like something out of a horror flick. I couldn’t even count how many kids I’d scared over the years and how many had stopped to pull on my pant leg asking to take a photo like I was some kind of mascot. Why Luigi insisted on these coverings always fucking alluded me.
He wanted to save face with the world, but if his enemies did manage to take one of us out, they would know about it and that would be all that mattered at the end of the day.
“Coffee, black,” Alex ordered from the tall slim kid behind the counter. His hungry eyes roamed all over her while she stared up at the board even though I knew she knew what she wanted to order. I shifted a little bit closer. My hand brushed hers and her entire body stilled at the contact but made no other indication she felt me at all. “Two iced coffees. One plain. One with four shots of caramel and six shots of hazelnut.”
“Is that all, sweetheart?” The kid drawled and I fisted my hands into balls at my side.
I hated the way he addressed her, the way he leered at her like this wasn’t a stunning mastermind that stood before him but just another piece of ass.
“That’s all, and if you call me sweetheart again, I’ll remove your tongue from your head.” She spoke casually, so calmly that the atmosphere in the building remained tranquil.
The kid, Stuart, judging by his name tag, screwed up his face in disgust. “Whatever, bitch.” The scoffed huff filled with disdain, rushed out of him. Though he muttered it under his breath, I heard every single word.
I stood there silently while he completed the order and when he was done, he placed a tray filled with plastic cups on the counter. I leaned forward and gripped him by the shirt. Pulling him into me, he lifted onto his tippy toes as his chest painfully dug into the high-risen glass separating us, that I had him doubled over. Grabbing a stack of napkins from the side, I smacked him around the face with them before shoving him and watched as he stumbled back from the shock.
