Charming Like Us (Like Us, #7)

by Krista Ritchie

Ten times a day, I question why I’m the bodyguard to Charlie Keating Cobalt. The sun just set, and I’m already at number eleven. Why me? Because I can keep up.

If it were my first day on the job, I’d think he was trying to lose me in the crowd. But it’s not my first day. Not even my second. I’ve been Charlie’s bodyguard for over five years. So I don’t think it. I know he’s trying to lose me.

Here’s an annoying fact: His success rate is about 50%. Here’s a less annoying fact: Before me, his success rate was 100%.

If Charlie wanted to disappear, he’d vanish into thin air. With me, he has to try a little fucking harder, and that’s why I’m still on his detail after all these years.

It’s never stopping. Not for a second. It’s stress on stress on stress, and I’m terrified of the day I lose this. Being his bodyguard.

I’ve been at Charlie’s speed for so long, I don’t know how to stop anymore.

Can I blame her? I grew up thinking the Cobalts walked on water. All three famous families are considered American royalty, but the Cobalts are the gods among the princes, and now that I protect them, I still think it.

Because I’m older now, and I’m an incredibly intelligent motherfucker. And I’ve come face-to-face with the Cobalts, who are just as messy, just as dysfunctional, just as chaotic as my family still is. And it made me love the Cobalt Empire even more.

Call me The Pro. The media already does.

Being the 24/7 bodyguard to a Cobalt, to anyone really, was never my plan, but it also wasn’t a far leap from professional boxing. I love my job.

The backdoor swings open. My client’s normally messy hair looks even more wind-blown. How many strangers’ hands just ran through his hair? I don’t know.

Guilt doesn’t assault me. I’m not weighed down seeing him hurt. I’m just relieved that I predicted right and he exited this backdoor.

I have to choose my battles with Charlie. He meets my gaze, unsurprised by my presence, and casually steps into the alleyway, kicking the door shut behind him.

Charlie lights a cigarette. “I thought maybe you’d take the hint this time,” he says and blows smoke into the warm night air. “You don’t want me on your detail anymore, then ask for a transfer.” It’s the same reminder I give him daily.

“It’s not just you.” His yellow-green eyes flit to me. “Anyone. I don’t need a constant shadow parading behind me.” “Bring that up with your parents then.”

He may be twenty-one, but his mom and dad are overprotective, and they’re not going to let any of their children—let alone Charlie, the eldest son of the Cobalt Empire—prance around the city without literal protection. It’ll just never happen. It’s a battle he’ll lose every time.

“You want me to call Farrow?” He’s on the med team. But mention of my best friend causes Charlie to roll his eyes. Farrow isn’t Charlie’s cup of tea, mostly for the fact that he’s attached to Charlie’s least favorite cousin, Maximoff Hale.

Charlie will often say things to me like, “You have a strange choice in friends.” “You sure you don’t want to reevaluate your friendship with him?” “Why are you friends with a self-righteous, arrogant asshole?”

Farrow and I go way back.

“Worry about your own friendships, or lack thereof.” He’d take the diss with an impressed smile.

Charlie and I aren’t friends. Let me make this clear. We. Are. Not. Friends.

Charlie is the only one gallivanting across the city in the middle of the fucking night like a blood-thirsty vampire. Hey, he is legitimately as popular as Edward Cullen could ever be.

Charlie finally glances at the red stain on his white, shredded button-down. “No Band-Aid. It’ll sell more if it has my blood on it.” He says it so casually, like that’s the most normal reaction in the world.

I don’t ask him where he wants to go or what he wants to do. I grab his wrist and tug him towards the other end of the alleyway. “Ohmygod OSLIE IS REAL!” Fuck.

“Your sister texted you.” I can’t tell if he’s trying to distract me by bringing up my baby sister. Or if he’s pointing out that he saw her message to annoy me.

But I’m staring at an address to The Walnut, an apartment building in Philadelphia. It can’t be a coincidence that Jack Highland lives there. I rub a hand through the thick curly strands of my hair.

“Why are we going to The Walnut?” I question outright. Charlie leans back against the black leather seat. “I have an appointment with Jack Highland.”

I wait for him to explain further...

“In the middle of the night?” I ask. “Yes.” “You didn’t think to te...

I’m on a need to know basis with my client. And in his world, no one needs to k...

Highland and I have history. Okay, that’s a lie. We have zero history. Because the guy rejected my kiss. Rejected me.

But hey, he still has my fucking bandana, my belt, and my sweatshirt that I lent him. So I’m taking this with stride. I’m killing two birds with one stone tonight and coming to collect.

Those clothes are mine. I want them back. I may have fallen for a straight guy, but my heart is bricked back up. Duct-taped shut. Jack’s not getting anywhere near it, and...

I’m about to see Jack. Again.

The Most Embarrassing Moment of Oscar Oliveira’s Life TWO DAYS AGO

I just officiated my best friend’s wedding. I just watched him walk down the aisle in Anacapri and marry the love of his life.

And now…now my urge to be in a relationship has ballooned to the umpteenth degree.

Sign me up for sunsets, romantic strolls in the park, sweaty never-ending nights on a dance floor, and mind-blowing sex. Fuck, I’d take average sex at this point if it meant being in a steady love-affirming relationship. I just want the good stable pieces. The thing...

I haven’t been in a real long-term relationship since college and it’s starting to grind on me. But who in the fuck would want to date someone who ...

Farrow said he’d pay for the plane tickets, but I manage my finances well, actually better than he does. His prideful ass will just never admit it.

Charlie is kicked back and balancing on two legs of a patio chair, all while Audrey Cobalt talks his ear off. He rolls his eyes at whatever his carrot-orange-haired little sister says.

The one good thing about Charlie being around family—they always try to drag him into their orbit. When he’s tethered to the rest of the Cobalts, it’s easier to keep track of him.

All I can see is the back of a tall guy, sleeves rolled up his arms to reveal sculpted, muscular biceps, and his dark hair blows with a seaside gust.

Like every guest, he’s in all-white. The dress code. That belt is mine. Lent him that for the ceremony. I waver for a second. Fuck it.

Slowly, I close the distance between me and the most gorgeous guy at this reception.

Jack Highland is often behind a camera; yet, he looks like he could model for a cologne ad.

Ass in perfect view. His athletic build screams jock bro. But I wish I knew him better to discern what kind he actually is.

But I like a good sports-loving jock. Let’s go to a Phillies game. Share a pack of peanuts and complain about the Mets.

His skin is a mixture of light brown and red-gold hues and looks more sun-kissed in the setting light. He’s Filipino-American and bir...

His eyes hold mine for a beat longer. A beat that makes me question every fucking thing.