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"Um, all I have is Marketing Dynamics. It's fine."
Westin frowned. "Like I said, I'm busy."
I rolled my eyes. "What Westin is not telling you is that he's my bodyguard. Dad hired him to watch my arse."
Gabe blinked rapidly. "Oh, did he now? Why? Is your dad someone really important?"
"Hardly. He only thinks he's important. But anyway, poor Westin here has been charged as my babysitter. He's worried I won't have coverage. There is a coffee stand right downstairs in the same building. You can meet there while I'm in class, okay?"
I could tell he didn't like it. His jaw was working, but he finally said, "Yeah, fine."
"Well, I'll let you two say goodbye. It was good to meet you, Gabe."
I excused myself, aware of their eyes on me as I headed up the stairs. I was given no reprieve upstairs though. Because the moment I stepped into the bedroom, a text chimed on my phone. When I picked it up, my stomach fell.
A text from Jamila flashed in the screen and all it said was 911.
Nissa
I'd stayed up way past my bedtime. Jamila's 911 message was a doozy. Adam had apparently been accepted into a grant program in Norway. And like a sometimes-clueless bloke, he’d accepted without talking to Jamila about it first.
Her emotions had run the gamut of from denial and her being pretty sure that he hadn't meant to say yes, to the two of us coming up with several ways to murder him in his sleep, to bargaining if there was some way to undo this, and finally to acceptance.
But I was drained. Truth be told, it was nice to focus on someone else’s problems. At least I could pretend for a few hours that I wasn't scared or worried.
When I finally hung up with her, all I wanted to do was pass out in a coma.
That was an hour ago.
Apparently running away from my emotions only lasted so long. The moment I was off the phone, the anxiety crept back like rats in the darkness with its little tick, tick, tick sound going off in my head, reaching into those parts of my brain that would spin out.
Now it was bloody 2:00 a.m. and I hadn't slept a wink. And it wasn't just because I'd had Westin on the brain.
It was everything. The break-in, my father, exactly who he was in business with, what he was capable of... Okay, it was also Westin. But my point was that all of it was fucking with my sleep.
To be fair, someone did break into your house. Not to mention someone also tried to grab you off the street a few days ago.
I tossed again before dragging my pillow over my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep, trying not to picture Westin in my bed, holding me, the hard length of him pulsing against my hip, the way he'd tried to avoid taking advantage of that, and then the weight of him on top of me. The way his cock felt against my clit, my body arching into his, the way he kissed me hungrily, vibrantly, as if I was in fact, the prize. Not something to be owned or controlled, but more like someone to hold.
Just admit that you want him.
Yes, fine. I wanted him. Like I had never wanted anyone before. But this whole situation was fucked. I was pretty certain he wanted someone normal, not someone with a mountain full of baggage and a father like mine.
This whole situation was a lot, and he didn't even know half of it.
Not to mention he works for your father.
I wanted to trust him. He'd already proven that I might be able to, but I couldn't just ignore that he worked for the same man who’d lied and betrayed me. And Julian had done all of that under the guise of loving me.
When it became clear that I wasn't going to be able to sleep, I shoved the cover down and snatched off my satin bonnet.
I had been managing my class workload okay, but I didn't know how long that was going to hold if I kept this up.
It wasn't like I was making some accommodations for recent events. I didn't want to take advantage of that. I needed to get my shit together.
Gently, I eased my bedroom door open and padded out to the living room. The lights were off, and I hooked a left into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed the milk. I grabbed a mug and the cocoa I'd seen in the cupboard earlier to make myself a mug of hot chocolate when a voice from behind me murmured, "It's not hot chocolate unless you have the mini marshmallows."
With a squeak, I brought the mug around, intending to use it as a weapon. But Westin caught my hand easily in mid-air. I automatically tried to use the other arm to escape. But with another smack, he caught it. "Easy, it's me. You're okay. You're in the loft. It's just me, Westin. Bodyguard, remember?"
