Illegal Contact (The Barons 1)

“He is.”

“‘Kay. Glad we can agree. Now number two—I expect a full Snapchat story of your adventures as Gavin Brawley’s assistant.”

“No can do, girl. I signed an agreement that I wouldn’t take pictures of anything or discuss it on social media. Sorry.”

“Ugh. Fine. Give me constant text updates then. Those are safe, right?”

I smiled. “Right. Now tell me about that date you had last night.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes and went off about the dud she’d picked up on OkCupid. Despite it being her third bad date in as many weeks, the way she told the story had me laughing to the point of tears by the end of the call. I hung up with a smile on my face, checked the burgers again, and paced away from the grill.

I’d started cooking outside because the weather was beautiful and it gave me an excuse to walk the side of his property with the private beach. Jasmine was right when it came to the fact that this was a beautiful setting for an annoying job. I’d never seen sand so clean in my life, and the water was clearer than I’d ever seen on Rockaway Beach.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I counted my steps and used them to gauge how long I could walk before needing to return to the grill. I’d barely made it to sixty before something moved in my peripheral vision.

“What the fuck!”

Coming over a dune on the supposedly private beach was a guy in cargo shorts and a bright polo shirt. At first I thought he was a preppy d-bag from another mansion, but then I saw the serious looking camera in his hand.

“Wow, you’re seriously trespassing to cop a fucking picture?” I demanded.

The photog froze in his tracks. “Who says I’m here for Gavin? Maybe I’m taking a picture of the beach.”

“You said it, wise guy,” I snapped. “All I asked was why the fuck you’re on private property with your camera. But now I know.”

“What do you know?”

“I know you’re invading someone’s fucking privacy!” My voice rose loud enough to carry over the waves, but I didn’t care. I could not believe the audacity of these assholes. And how he had the nerve to get sassy with me as if I wasn’t right. “You better get your ass out of here before—”

The photog raised the camera and took a picture of my outraged face. In one second, my jaw dropped. In the other, my anger exploded and turned me into a rage monster.

“You son-of-a—”

“Are you Gavin Brawley’s assistant? I heard he has one.”

“It’s none of your—”

Flash.

I blinked several times and stormed towards him.

“Friend? Lover?”

The douche asked the last question with a laugh in his voice, and it set me off like a rocket. I crossed the distance between us in two strides, grabbed his camera before he could react, and threw the damn thing towards the water. It didn’t make it all the way, but it was definitely damp after a hard landing.

“Hey!” the guy shouted. “Do you have any idea how much that cost?”

“Do you have any idea how little I fuckin’ care?” I shoved his shoulder. “You’re on private property. Technically, I could beat the shit out of you and drown your ass, then say I felt threatened. Try me.”

“Jesus Christ . . .” The photog scrambled for his camera. “You’re a real asshole.”

“No, you people are the assholes. He’s not a fucking animal at the zoo. You don’t get to gawk just because he’s locked in here.”

“He’s famous. Everyone gets to gawk.”

It was so enraging that I strode towards him again, but a hand dropped on my shoulder. I glanced over my shoulder to see Gavin looming over me with a seriously amused expression on his face. Christ, he was cute when he did that stupid little half-smile of his. Not that I saw it much. I mostly saw everything but his smile since he walked around exactly as he was right now—shirtless, shoeless, and wearing basketball shorts that barely hit his thick, muscular thighs.

“Your assistant is an asshole,” the photog squawked.

“That’s why I hired him.” Gavin didn’t move his big hand from my shoulder or take his eyes off me even as he jerked his head. “Beat it, Vito. If I catch your ass around here again, I’ll let him smack you around.”

Vito flipped us off and hurried away.

“That was some language for a buttoned-up yuppie with a master’s in social work.”

“He pissed me off,” I said, turning to face him. “People act like you’re not a real person. Like they can just do whatever the hell they want.”

“Most people think they can.” Gavin squeezed my shoulder and let his hand drop away, the fingers skimming down my arm. “Why’s it bother you so much?”

“Because it’s bullshit! For all we know, he was going to lurk around and take pictures through your windows.”