Bodyguard Beast

My mouth instantly watered at the sight of him, but I gave myself a quick mental slap. I’d never been a fool around a man before, and I certainly would not be starting with him of all people.

He raised his head then and directly met my gaze.

My knees weakened, and I clutched the banister for support, but to my everlasting pride and joy, my voice came out dry and cynical, “Wow! What a turn up for the books. You’re now my bodyguard when you left me to drown to my death a couple of days ago?”

He said nothing, just stared at me.

This infuriated me even more. “Did you tell my father what happened at the pool?” I taunted. “He definitely wouldn’t have assigned this job to you if he was aware of your rude behavior.”

Angelo slipped his hands into his pockets and with a low, long-suffering sigh, looked beyond me up the staircase.

I glared at him. Never in my life had I met someone as arrogant as this man. “You’re not going to speak to me? You’re going to keep ignoring me?”

“Sienna,” he said quietly.

The command in his tone instantly held my attention.

“Let’s make this situation bearable for the both of us. My job is to guard you, and I will do just that. Please refrain from any other unnecessary communication.”

“Did I do something to offend you, or are you just naturally a dick?”

I saw the anger flare in his gaze and didn’t miss the slight fear that tightened my core, but I also couldn’t ignore the buzz of arousal seriously agitating my body. It just made me all the more irritated at him. “Maybe I should tell my father about what happened at the pool. I’m sure that’ll make him change his mind about replacing you.”

He smiled slowly.

Oh my God, I nearly died right there. He was that sexy. If I didn’t detest him as much as I did, I would have—God, I don’t know what I would have done. Then he opened his mouth and all I wanted to do was stab him in the groin.

“Sure, tell your dad. Tell him how you followed me into the men’s changing room and how you couldn’t take your eyes off my dick. You stared at it as if you wanted to lick it.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s not true,” I gasped.

“No?”

“I mean, yes, I followed you into the changing room, but you make it sound as if I chased you there to see you in the nude. I followed you because I was angry. And I certainly did not look at your dick as if I wanted to lick it.”

He shrugged carelessly. “Good for you. You like fairytales.”

“I don’t want you to be my bodyguard, so just leave. I’ll speak to my father and demand a replacement.”

He touched his cap mockingly. “I’ll really appreciate it if you could do that.”

With a murderous glare, I turned around and stormed away. When I arrived at my bedroom door, I turned around to see the rude bastard remained behind me. Blatant as you please. Following me. “Didn’t you hear what I said?” I raged.

“I take my instructions from your father,” he replied calmly. “Want me to stop following you? Get your father to tell me to.”

I was on the verge of exploding with anger, but the fact he acted so cool and unaffected made me determined not to show him how upset I was. I took a deep breath and found some semblance of calm. “Fine,” I replied sweetly. “But are you going to follow me in here too? I’m going to take my clothes off and lie naked on the bed. Is watching me in that state part of your job description?”

Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly, I must have imagined it.

I opened my bedroom door and violently kicked it shut.

Whoa! Stupid decision. The door was a heavy antique and probably weighed as much as a car, and I’d probably broken my toe. Trying my best to muffle my cry of pain at the agony, I hobbled into my room and collapsed on my bed in despair. I curled into a ball and clutched my throbbing toe with both my hands. In the space of twenty-four hours, my life had become unrecognizable.

I tried to understand why he had taken such an instinctive and immediate dislike to me. I had done nothing wrong to him. Perhaps he was so dismissive because I was born into such extravagant wealth and privilege and he had to work hard for everything he had. Maybe he had judged me unworthy of his respect or even courtesy because he had prejudged me and slid me into the category of rich bitch, which of course, I wasn’t.

Still, I was well aware of the well-used cliché; any girl born into unfair wealth must be a spoiled little Princess. I scowled. The very thought of anyone thinking of me as a spoilt brat annoyed me.