“What about school?”
“Online. College classes. She finished high school at sixteen. She’s a genius.” Poe grinned. “All I can say is good luck.”
A sneaky, sexy genius with a target on her back.
I’d need all the luck I could get.
Chapter 5
Hallie, One Week Later
“I told you, Dad. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“As I’ve explained several thousand times, you are a minor. You live under my roof. You need what I say you need.”
“He’s creepy.”
“How?”
“He looks at me.”
“He’s your bodyguard, Hallie. What’s he supposed to look at? He’s staying. I’m your father. What I say goes, and I’m done having this conversation.”
I stepped out of Dad’s office, slammed the door behind me, and turned my anger on the unreasonably hot yet still annoying bodyguard. “You”—I pointed a finger in his face—“are a complete pain in my ass.”
He blinked and looked terrified, which was comforting, considering I was the one he was supposed to be protecting.
“Stay at least ten feet away. And stop looking at me.”
I went through bodyguards the way insolent children went through nannies. It wasn’t that I hated them personally; it was just that I didn’t have anything else to do. It usually took me under a week to sneak out, lose their tail, and get them fired. This one chapped my ass more aggressively than most, because he was inside my house. Outside my room. Constantly around. Always watching. I expected today to be his last.
He followed me through the courtyard into the kitchen after my morning dance class, on my heels like a puppy at dinnertime, sealing his fate. I showered and went down to the kitchen in my robe. My shortest robe. Once I finished my yogurt, I scraped the bottom of the container for the last bite. He watched me walk to the trash can, step on the pedal, and dispose of the plastic.
“Oh.” I tapped the silver spoon against my bottom lip. “Should I recycle?”
The only response was the controlled stare I’d learned to expect.
“Okay, then.” I dropped my utensil in the sink and left the kitchen.
He was, of course, right behind me.
“Do you sleep?” I cast a glance over my shoulder. Pain in the ass or not, he was pretty to look at, with short black hair and a broad face. Gray green eyes with smile lines around them, though he couldn’t have been over twenty. Maybe not shredded, but strong. His body had presence. “I only ask because you’ve been here constantly. For three days. Don’t you ever need to eat? How about pee?”
His lips twitched and I thought I’d won a smile, but he cut it off before it could bloom. I made sure to put a little swing in my step when I turned around to go upstairs.
He sighed and followed.
At the top, I spun around and caught him off guard. He grabbed at the curved banister to keep his balance. “Tell me something,” I said. “Anything. I’ll even settle for your name.”
Stoic stance. No facial expression.
“Is my father paying you a crap ton of money not to talk or what?”
Now he focused on something behind me instead of me and leaned forward like he was ready to take another step.
I was all hands on hips, blocking his way. “Talk to me. About anything. The NFL? The NBA? Heck, the WWE?”
From the way his mouth shaped itself, I thought he could be biting the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing.
“Have you been lobotomized?” I spoke slowly, with perfect enunciation, and mimicked sawing my own head open.
He gave his head a slight shake and stared at the floor. This time he couldn’t stop the smile.
Gotcha.
“Look at that,” I said. “Signs of intelligent life.”
Maybe his brain muscle was as well developed as the rest of them.
“Are you going to your room,” he asked, “or back downstairs?”
“He has a voice!” A deep one. “Wherever you’ll follow. That’s where.”
“I’m your bodyguard,” he said in a monotone. “I have to follow you.”
“To the ends of the earth.”
“Your room or back downstairs?” he repeated.
In one quick movement, I reached up and pulled off his earpiece. It slapped down against his chest. “Turn it off.”
He clicked a button, and the green indicator light switched to red.
“I’m staying right here. You’re going to talk to me,” I said.
The downstairs door slammed shut. We both jumped, and his whole body tensed.
“Hallie?” Dad barked out the question.
“I’m here.”
“Come down.” Most everything Paul Girard said was a demand.