How I loved to say harem boys.
I knew the answer to my own question, but didn't want to deal with it. I was doing this whether Grayson wanted me to or not. Whether he had his temper tantrum and left me without his services or not.
Oh, he hadn't left me without a replacement bodyguard, but the security service sent stony-faced men that stood around doing nothing all day.
So I cancelled them. Having those guys watch me, through their stupid mirrored sunglasses, while nothing more serious than needing to pick my panties out of my butt proved to me that I didn't need security. Much less my own personal bodyguard.
I never wanted one in the first place. Now that I'd finally thrown off the yoke of my father I didn't have to be tied to having a bodyguard.
I did want to be tied to Gray, though. Or tied up by him. Both worked.
Of course, another bodyguard who was definitely not from the lame-o security service showed up within an hour.
He was tall and built like Gray, with a clean shaven head and a no-nonsense attitude. That I was currently experiencing as I tried to dismiss him too.
"I said I don't need you and you can go."
"Nope." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, not a care in the world except for getting up in my business.
What kind of answer was that? I didn't know where Gray found this guy, but it wasn't some rent-a-cop place. He was completely unprofessional wearing low-slung jeans, a tight t-shirt that showed off all of his muscles, and a shit-eating grin. If he hadn't told me Grayson Baker had sent him I wouldn't have even believed he was more than a bouncer.
"I'm not paying you, so you might as well leave." I had lots to do to get ready for tonight and still had to get from the mansion to the Brownstone. He was simply going to be in my way, not to mention my business.
Nope. Not gonna have it.
"Nobody's paying me. I'm watching your pretty little ass as a favor."
I was about to be offended about the little ass comment when it struck me. Ah, great. "You're friends with Gray?"
"Something like that."
If they were brothers in arms that was a bond I didn't think I could break. Gray didn't talk about his military career and I'd always assumed bad memories of the worst parts of war were better left unsaid. But this guy knew Gray, probably better than I did if he was willing to do a last-minute favor and keep watch over me. Like I was a bratty little kid.
It wasn't very nice of me, but I could use that against him. Play nice and then later - sneak attack.
"Oh. Okay, well then nice to meet you. I'm Angelina." I held out my hand which he stared at.
"I know."
Jack-ass. "And you are?"
"James, but you can call me Jim."
I offered Jim a drink from the kitchen and plotted my escape. Poor guy. Gray would probably kill him.
Not really. But, he'd be pissed at us both when I got away.
I'd had a selection of clothes, cosmetics, and other personal items already moved to the Brownstone, so I could spend as much time there as I wanted. I hadn't been able to get to town even once to finalize my preparations. No way did I want some stranger privy to my new kinky lifestyle, even if he was a friend of Gray's.
Gray probably knew that when he called in this favor. If he couldn't be here in person, he was here in spirit, trying to control my world.
I'd let him control my pleasure, but not anything else. Dickhead.
Enough was enough. The guys were all arriving today and unless this bodyguard wanted to be the Kevin Costner to my Whitney, he had to go.
Thus, I pretended I had to go. That is, to the bathroom. It was pretty much the only place I'd learned that bodyguards didn't follow me. Escaping out the window worked in the movies.
I walked toward the bathroom with Jim right on my heels but turned and stopped when I got to the door. "Umm. I appreciate how serious you're taking your job there, Jim. But, I've got some lady business to attend to. Okay?"
He stepped back. "I'm not going to stop you."
I was counting on that.
I popped in and shut and locked the door behind me. Step one on Operation Sorry Jim achieved. I climbed up on the toilet, and opened the small window.
I looked at the window, looked at my butt, and shut the window. Okay, not a good plan. No way I was going to fit through there, not to mention I didn't know how I'd get down and not break my face landing in the rose bushes.
Hmm. Plan B. What could I do to distract him long enough to get away? The guy hadn't left my side in four hours. Not even to pee. Maybe I could punch him in the bladder.
No. Even if he didn't block my attempt, I didn't want to hurt him. I could never ever punch anyone, bladder or not.
Tickle him?
That would too weird.
Aha. I had it.
Operation Freak Jim Out was a go.
Off went my wrap shirt and bra, followed by my shoes, jeans and panties. I folded them into a neat little pile by the door. I took a deep breath, told myself it was no big deal to show my ta-tas to a random friend of Gray's and opened the bathroom door.
Jim stood with his arms crossed, at attention just outside. I cleared my throat and put my hands on my hips. If I was giving him the Full Monty, I might as well strike a pose.
"Whoa, hey." He glanced over at me, raised an appreciative eyebrow and then dutifully put one hand over his eyes and the other pointed towards my nakedness. "What are you doing?"
So far so good. I took a step closer. "I thought since we had to share such close quarters, maybe we could, you know."
He jumped back a good foot and kept his eyes covered. "God, you rich people are weird. Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to say that...out loud. Could you please put your clothes back on now?"
I dropped my voice, making it as husky and as sultry as I could. "I can't. They're all wet."
He jumped another foot. "Shit, uh. Look, as hot and curvy as you are, Gray is going to seriously fuck with my shit if he even thinks I laid a hand on your glorious rack."
I was hot, huh? That felt good. I'd take it and give the poor guy a break. "Fine, I'll go upstairs and change. But you turn around, so I know you're not staring at my naked bits."
He pivoted and stood ramrod straight like a good little soldier. "I'll meet you up there in five minutes."
"Oh, but that's not near enough time for me to masturbate. Better make it at least twenty."
I'm pretty sure Jim's mind exploded because he tilted about twenty degrees to the left and didn't reply. I snagged my clothes and padded down the hall as fast as I could, as quietly as I could.
Luckily, I knew the mansion and its shortcuts better than he did. Even if Gray had briefed him. I cut through the library, put on my pants and shoved my panties in my pocket. Down the back hall that led out to the garden, I struggled with my bra and got my shirt on. I hopped across the grass, putting on my shoes and slipped into the garage.
A car service was scheduled to pick up Cade and Dominic, but Ilario was scheduled to arrive and hour before them. I cancelled that car. It would be fun to pick up one of the guys from the airport myself.
See, I didn't need Grayson or any other dumb bodyguard. I knew how to take care of myself. I knew how to do a lot of things. Like drive a car. In fact, I was a very good driver. Very good.
A whole garage full of horsepower waited for me. The Testarossa seemed appropriate to pick up my testosterone-filled Italian. I grabbed the keys, started the car, and peeled out, spitting gravel with my speed. I went all the way around the big circular drive of the estate once, just for fun and to say adios.
I wouldn't be back for a while. Too many memories, too many restrictions. This was the new, free me.
High end sports cars are fun to drive until you hit traffic. But I made it to the airport in one piece. Mostly because I completely ignored my cell phone. Poor Jim. Hope he didn't get into too much trouble with Gray for losing me.
I tipped the valet to park across two spots. Gray would have a conniption if I scratched the pretty blue sports car. The airport was an insane asylum, but I recognized Ilario the Lothario, as I'd dubbed him in my mind, from his pictures. He was just as lickable in person.
If you put Rico Suave in leather pants, mixed him with Fabio, made him twenty-two years old and sexy as hell, you'd get Ilario. He came highly recommended by Gloria, who personally assured me he was good in bed.
I waved to him outside baggage claim and suddenly felt ridiculously nervous. Italian men were into full-figured, curvy women, right? While I was no Sophia Loren, I more than had her booty and her boobs. But there was also a belly and some arm jiggle.
"Welcome to America, Ilario." I stuck out my hand to greet him. The permanent smolder on his face turned into sunshine, light and pure little-kid-with-a-new-toy delight.