Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)

by Ana Huang

“Rhys Larsen.” His deep, gravelly voice rolled over me like a velvety caress.

Men. They always ruined it by opening their mouths.

Agreed.

“Let me guess. Your dazzling charm stunned the would-be attackers into complacency,” I said.

“One, I do not become involved in my clients’ personal lives. I am here to safeguard you from physical harm. That is all. I am not here to be your friend, confidant, or anything else. This ensures my judgment remains uncompromised. Two, my clients understand the way things must work if they are to remain safe.”

BS 😀

Forget love and passion. What I wanted most was to slap the arrogant expression off his face and knee him in the family jewels while I was at it. I pressed the pads of my fingers into my thighs and forced myself to count to three before I responded.

“Yes.” My smile sharpened. “Luckily for us both, Mr. Larsen, I have no interest in being your friend, confidant, or ‘anything else.’”

Ahem. Suuuuuure.

Bridget and I weren’t each other’s favorite people, but that didn’t make it okay for anyone to call her names. Not under my watch.

“Some people are idiots, and some people are assholes.” I stepped aside to allow a group of giggling partygoers past. “Just so happened you ran into one who was both.” That earned me a small smile. “Mr. Larsen, I do believe we’re having a civil conversation.” “Are we? Someone check the weather in hell,” I deadpanned. Bridget’s smile widened, and I’d be damned if I didn’t feel a small kick in my gut at the sight.

“I wasn’t ogling you. I was secretly praying for you to get heatstroke. If you do, I’m not helping you. I have…a book to read.”

“You got yourself a deal. But if you break it or go behind my back again…” My voice lowered, dark and full of unspoken threats. “You’ll find out the hard way what happens when you bargain with the devil.”

“I’d rather you hate me alive than love me dead.”

I’d rather you hate me alive than love me dead. The problem was, I didn’t hate him. I hated his rules and restrictions, but I didn’t hate him. I wished I did. It would make my life a lot simpler.

“If I tell you, will you shut up?” he said crankily. I responded with a beatific smile. “I might.”

“PTSD?” I asked softly. Rhys jerked his head in a quick nod. “Complex PTSD.” He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t press him. It was too personal an issue for me to pry into.

“But you did it, anyway.” Rhys’s mouth flattened into a displeased line, like he was angry at his own actions. “Yes.” “Why?” He finally lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Because I understand what it’s like to be alone.” Alone.

terror had a way of stretching time out until each second contained an eternity. Dinner felt like years ago. Graduation might as well have happened in another lifetime.

“You’d already neutralized the gunman, and I thought you were going to die.” Her voice wobbled at the end, and my anger dissipated. Other than my Navy buddies, I couldn’t remember the last time anyone really cared about whether I lived or died. But Bridget did, for some unknown reason, and it wasn’t just because I was her bodyguard. I saw it in her eyes and heard it in the faint waver of her usually cool, crisp voice. And I’d be damned if the knowledge didn’t hit me harder than a bullet to the chest.

“You were bleeding.” Bridget brushed her fingers over the bandaged wound, her touch searing straight through the gauze into my bones. I stiffened, and she froze. “Did that hurt?” “No.” Not in the way she’d meant anyway. But the way she was looking at me, like she was afraid I might disappear if she blinked? It made my heart ache like she’d ripped off a piece of it and kept it for herself. “Bet this wasn’t the way you pictured your graduation night going.” I rubbed a hand over my jaw, my mouth twisting into a grimace. “We should’ve gone straight home after dinner.”

I’d wanted to extend the night because when we woke up, we would go back to what we were. The princess and her bodyguard, a client and her contractor. It was all we could be, but that hadn’t stopped crazy thoughts from infiltrating my mind during dinner. Thoughts like how I could’ve stayed there with her all night, even though I normally hated answering questions about my life. Thoughts about whether Bridget tasted as sweet as she looked and how much I wanted to strip away her cool demeanor until I reached the fire underneath. Bask in its warmth, let it burn away the rest of the world until we were the only ones left. Like I said, crazy thoughts. I’d shoved them aside the second they popped up, but they lingered in the back of my mind still, like the lyrics to a catchy song that wouldn’t go away.

Bridget looked away, but not before I caught the suspicious sheen in her eyes. I clenched and unclenched my fists. Don’t do it. But I’d already fucked up multiple times tonight. What was one more? “Come here, princess.” I opened one arm. She stepped into it and buried her face in my non-injured shoulder. It was the most vulnerable we’d been in front of the other since we met, and it chipped away at something inside me. “It’s all right.” I patted her awkwardly on the arm. I was shit at comforting people. “It’s over. Everyone’s fine except for the shithead with the gun. Though I guess tonight was a bad night to leave the bulletproof vest at home.” Her choked laugh vibrated through my body. “Is that a joke, Mr. Larsen?” “An observation. I don’t—” “Joke,” she finished. “I know.” We sat in the back of the ambulance for a while longer, watching the police seal off the crime scene while I tried to tamp down the fierce protectiveness welling in my chest. I was protective of all my clients, but this was different. More visceral. Part of me wanted to push her far away from me, and another part wanted to drag her into my arms and keep her as mine. Except I couldn’t. Bridget was too young, too innocent, and too off-limits, and I’d damn well better not forget that.

“It’s slipping.” Rhys scanned the surrounding crowd. We were at the opening for a new Upper East Side exhibit celebrating Eldorran artists, which normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but the guest list included action movie star Nate Reynolds and the paparazzi were out in full force. “What?” I said through my smile as I posed for the cameras. The appearances got tiresome after a while. There was only so much smiling, waving, and small talk a girl could stand before she keeled over from boredom, but they were part of my job, so I grinned and bore it. Literally. “Your smile. It’s slipping.” He was right. I hadn’t even noticed. I re-upped the wattage of my smile and tried not to yawn.

Rhys stood next to me through it all, stern and grumpy as always, but he’d dialed down the overbearing attitude. For him, anyway. Compared to a normal person, he was still overprotective to the point of neuroticism. I loved and hated the shift in equal measure. Loved it because I had more freedom, hated it because I could no longer use my irritation as a shield against whatever was crackling between us. And there was a thing. I just wasn’t sure whether I was the only one who saw it, or if he did too. I didn’t ask. It was safer that way.

“Bodyguarding?” “It’s a word,” I said. “If it’s not, I’m declaring it one by royal decree.” He smirked. “You would. And to answer your question, no, I don’t. The day I do is the day I stop ‘bodyguarding.’” I rolled my eyes. “It must be nice to see everything in black and white.” Rhys’s gaze lingered on me for a second before he looked away. “Trust me,” he said. “Not everything is black and white.” Inexplicably, my heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself not to demand he tell me what he meant. It probably meant nothing. It was a throwaway line.

“It’s nice,” he said. “What?” “Your real smile.” Forget a skipped beat. My heart skipped a whole song. This time, however, I covered it up by pointing my spoon at him. “That was a compliment.” “If you say so.” “Don’t try to play it off.” I was proud of how normal I sounded when my insides were doing things that were anything but normal. Fluttering, skipping, twisting. My doctor would have a field day. “We’ve passed a milestone. Rhys Larsen’s first compliment to Bridget von Ascheberg, and it only took two years. Mark it down.”

Rhys’s glare intensified. “He’s wearing shoe lifts. He deserves to be threatened.” I pressed my lips together, but a quick glance at Louis’ feet through the kitchen doorway confirmed Rhys’s observation. I thought he seemed taller. I had nothing against shoe lifts per se, but three inches seemed excessive. Unfortunately, while I could overlook the shoe lifts, I couldn’t overlook the utter lack of chemistry between us.

“I suggest you stop lookin’ at me like that, princess,” I said, my voice lethally soft. “Unless you plan on doing something about it.”

Anything to get my mind off how much I want to hike up that skirt of yours and find out just how wet you are for me.

I took this job thinking I had one objective, but now it was clear I had two. The first was to protect Bridget. The second was to resist her.

I stretched my legs out and accidentally knocked over the empty wine bottle, which rolled across the floor toward Rhys. I bent to pick it up at the same time he did, and our fingers brushed for a second.

Clicheeeeeeeeeeeeeee

If Bridget were anyone but my client, I’d drag her into the bathroom, bend her over, and spank her ass raw for her insolent tone.

“You have two options.” I leaned in close enough to smell her perfume. “You can either walk out of here with me like an adult, or I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here like a child. Which one will it be, princess?”

“You should be, princess. You wanna know why?” I growled. “Because you’re right. I do want you. But I don’t want to kiss or make love to you. I want to fuck you. I want to punish you for mouthing off and letting another man put his hands on you. I want to yank up that tiny fucking dress of

yours and pound into you so hard you won’t be able to walk for days. I want all those things, even though I can’t have them. But if you don’t stop looking at me like that…” I tightened my grip on her chin and throat. She stared at me in the mirror, her lips parted and her eyes dark with heat. “I might take them anyway.”

They were meant to scare her off, but Bridget looked anything but scared. She looked aroused.

“So, do it,” she said. I stilled, my hand flexing around her throat as my cock threatened to punch a hole through my pants. “Fuck me the way you just promised.”

“You won’t touch me, and you won’t let anyone else touch me, either. So tell me, what the hell do you want, Mr. Larsen?” You.

“You’re Bridget von Ascheberg,” I said. “You’ll be ready.”

“Have you ever been in love?” I asked, partly because I really wanted to know, and partly because I wanted to pull my thoughts off the morbid path they’d taken. “Nope.” “Really? Never?” “Nope,” Rhys said again. He cocked an eyebrow. “Surprised?” “A little. You’re old. You should’ve been in love at least three times by now.” He was ten years older than me, which wasn’t that old at all, but I liked teasing him when I could. A deep, rich sound filled the air, and I realized with shock Rhys was laughing. The deepest, loudest, realest laugh I’d pulled out of him yet. It was beautiful. “One love for every decade,” Rhys said when his mirth faded. “By that calculation, you should’ve been in love twice by now.” The intensity of his stare pierced through the darkness. “So tell me, princess. Have you ever been in love?” “No.” I returned my attention to the stars. “But I hope to be one day.”

“There’s no such thing as just a story. Every story is important. Including yours.” Especially yours.

She tasted like mint and sugar, and at that moment, it became my favorite taste in the world. I pushed her against the side of the pool and tightened my grip on her hair, my mouth not leaving hers the entire time. It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was hard, demanding, and possessive, borne out of years of pent-up frustration and tension, but Bridget matched me inch for inch. She tugged on my hair in return, her tongue tangling with mine and her little moans going straight to my cock.

A deep blush bloomed across her body, turning ivory into rose, and I wanted to trace its path with my tongue. Mark her with my teeth and touch. Proclaim to the world who she belonged to, who she should belong to. Me.

For the first time that day, Rhys’s face softened. “Of course, princess.” It was funny how much I’d hated the nickname at first, but now it made my heart flutter.

At the same time, indignation kindled in my stomach. He had no right to be angry. He was the one who’d left and insisted on keeping things between us professional after Costa Rica. He couldn’t possibly think he could waltz in here again after six weeks because he changed his mind and expect me to have put my life on hold for him.

Yas, bitch. Go tell him 💪🏻💃🏼🪩🪩🪩🪩

“Why wouldn’t I be? It sounds like the perfect solution. You’ll find a nice prince, marry, and rule happily ever after.” A mocking inflection colored his words. “The life of a princess, exactly as it should be.”

“Why are you here, Mr. Larsen? You were perfectly happy to walk away when I asked you to stay.” “If you think I was anything close to happy these past six weeks,” he said grimly, “You couldn’t be more wrong.” “You were happy enough to stay away for that long.” I tried and failed to hide the note of hurt in my voice. Rhys’s face softened a smidge. “Trust me, princess. If I had a choice, I would’ve been back far sooner than that.” The velvety tips of butterfly wings brushed my heart. Stop it. Stay strong. “Which brings me back to my question,” I said. “Why are you here?” A muscle jumped in his jaw. He hadn’t shaved that day, and thicker stubble peppered his face than I was used to. I curled my hands into loose fists, resisting the urge to run them over the short black hairs on his cheek and the scar on his eyebrow. Just so I could reassure myself he was actually there. Angry and infuriating, but there.

“You’re different now that you’re crown princess, dear cousin.” “You’re right,” I said. “I am different. I’m your future queen.” Andreas’s smile slipped, and I saw Rhys smirk out of the corner of my eye. “I’m glad you made it here safely.”

“I came back because I wanted to come back,” Rhys said. “And…” He paused, like he was debating whether to say what he was about to say. “I didn’t want you to be alone while you’re dealing with all this shit.” He gestured toward our lavish surroundings. Alone.

“We go wherever you go,” Rhys said. “I keep you safe. The end.”

“It is simple.” Rhys spoke with such quiet confidence it resonated in my bones. “I made a mistake when I left, and I’m fixing it.” “Just like that.” “Just like that.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Though I imagine you’ll make it as difficult for me as possible.” I let out a soft laugh. “When have things ever been easy for us?” But even though I was still upset with Rhys for leaving in the first place, I realized something. The empty, gnawing feeling had disappeared.

“I didn’t get a chance to say this earlier,” he said. “But happy birthday, princess.”