Page 41 of Boss Abroad
Why does he have to look so good? It just pisses me off even more. Angry sex would be so therapeutic right now.
I avert my eyes to defend myself from my misplaced, raunchy thoughts.
“It’s club policy and you can check the agreement you signed.” Oh, I’ve been trying to, sir. “UK Tabloids are notorious enough that we include a clause in all contracts about them. You won’t be making any statements.” How long has he been listening? How loud have I been shouting may be a better question.
His mouth ruins him. The more he speaks, the more angry I get and less horny I feel. That’s it. Keep talking, big boy.
“It’s for the best. Trust me.” Oh, he can be funny too. Because that’s got to be a joke.
“Trust you?” I scoff. “No, thank you.” He sure knows how to bring out the brat in me.
“And when I say ‘the best’, I do mean it’s the best for you, too. As Melanie has informed you or was about to…” Liam’s voice now fills my crowded office and that makes me realize he was talking in a much quieter tone to me before. “Consider all booked interviews canceled. You won’t be addressing the press. The physiotherapist can handle that from now on. And it would be wise to keep a professional distance from Mr. Sinclair.”
At the sound of that, Max slides further down the couch, as far away from me as he can. He looks miserable, and that pours kerosene onto my burning rage.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that Liam doesn’t address Dom by doctor or his given name, nor Max by his first name or nickname like everyone else does. What a snob. I try to focus on Liam’s worst traits to smother the hold he has on me.
“I’ve had it with people deciding on what's best for me,” I say to no one in particular. This is not what I signed up for. I should’ve never come here in the first place. My organs must be rotting away, swimming in a poisonous mix of indignation, disappointment, and regret.
I need a break before I say something that’ll cost me more than I have to give. “If you don’t need me to give any statements, I’m ready to call it a day.” Calista is amazing at drama, but no one can trump my poker face. My pain isn’t a show or for show. Nobody gets to see me hurting.
Liam takes charge of the situation and MM is happy to stand down and just watch. “Of course. I have a driver and a bodyguard waiting for you in the underground private parking.”
What? He can’t be serious. “A bodyguard? Are you crazy?”
“No, but the reporters are.” He glances at his phone. “I just had confirmation that there are dozens of them camping out in front of your building as we speak. Don’t fight me—I mean, us on this. We’re doing this for your own protection.”
Dozens of… Okay. I’m out of my depth here. I step back until my calves hit the couch and let my ass fall on it.
As if summoned, two men enter my office. Liam introduces them both. “This is George. He'll be your driver.” I recognize him. It’s the guy who got Dom out of the elevator not half an hour ago. Feels like a different lifetime. “And Terry, your bodyguard. They’ll take you to a hotel until it’s safe for you to go home.”
Max takes my hand again. “Hey, don’t let the word ‘bodyguard’ overwhelm you. Or his ugly mug scare you.” Max tries to lighten things up, but overwhelm doesn’t even begin to cover it. “Terry’s worked for me many times before. He’s the best. You have nothing to worry about.” Great. Thanks, Max. Now I’m even more worried.
I stand up, but before I reach the door, Liam’s voice saying my name reverberates around me, forcing me to look at him.
I hate feeling like his puppet, and I sense he loves pulling on my strings.
“Do not take any calls from unidentified numbers.” He holds my arm when I’m about to move past him and says to my ears only, “Call me if you need anything.”
“Anything,” he says again before he lets me go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
april
“Where are we going? And what’s your name again? Sorry, I forgot.”
“I’m George, Dr. Hadden, and that’s Terry.” George must be younger than me and has the kindest smile. “I know this is a lot, but you’re in good hands. Don’t worry. We’re taking you to a hotel until your street is clear.”
I nod and offer the closest thing to a smile I can pull off right now. They both sit in the front and I’m left by myself in the back seat.
“You’re Mr. Gunn’s driver?”
“Yes.”
“And this is his car?”
“Yes.”