Without warning, I was snatched from behind and roughly pulled against a hard male body.
“Where do you think you’re going?” growled my father’s head of security, like a junkyard dog deprived of a bone.
Still reeling from my father’s demand that I now be followed around like a child, the last thing I wanted was to deal with anyone.
With my chin raised and my face averted, I wrenched my shoulder, trying to break the guard dog’s tight grasp. It didn’t work.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and responded tightly, “Kindly unhand me, Mr. Taylor. I’d like to leave.”
Closing my eyes, I envisioned the legato notes of Saint-Saëns’ The Swan to control my breathing and remain calm. Although I used the technique in cello practice, it had become a necessary tool of survival as a daughter in the Manwarring family.
In this family, I wasn’t a beloved daughter or sister.
I was a pawn.
An asset.
No different than a pile of stock certificates to be bought and traded to the highest bidder.
An object.
And apparently, like any object of value, I now needed to be guarded.
His hand shifted to caress the sensitive skin of my inner arm, just under the lace edge of my chiffon puff sleeve. “It’s either Sergeant Taylor, Sergeant—or if I’m pulling your hair, Reid— but never Mr. Taylor.”
Shocked by the subtle yet intimate gesture and his bold comment, I raised my face to his and gasped at the intensity of his dark gaze.
This was the closest I had ever been to him, to any man really.
Wealthy daughters of billionaire families might as well be displayed behind glass.
Always seen, never touched.
Pretty dolls to be admired for their silent obedience.
Recovering, my tongue flicked out to wet my dry lips. “If you are trying to get a reaction out of me, Sergeant Taylor, you are wasting your time.”
The constant pressure on generations of Manwarring women, to know their place and never say or do anything to embarrass the family, had turned me into the perfect diamond. Something bright and shiny with no more emotions than a piece of stone.
His head pivoted to scan the empty corridor before he tightened his hold on my arm and swung us in an arc until we were secluded from view in the darkened alcove which housed a tall, bronze sculpture of a naked couple in a sensual embrace.
My heart raced as panic made me light-headed. Or was it his nearness?
Either way, I knew my father was only steps away in his office.
As I was the last remaining obedient sibling, it had been made clear to me he would not tolerate even the slightest break in propriety.
Not after what Olivia had done.
And certainly not after the scandal my brother had caused.
Reid braced his forearm over my head. “What’s the matter, princess? Are my dirty, lower-class hands too rough for your soft, blue blood skin?”
His comment brought my focus back to the warm, rough sensation of his hands on me. A shiver ran up my spine.
This was wrong. Really wrong.
By breathing intensified.
Princess.
Of course he’d call me a princess. I had heard it all: princess, snow queen, duchess, spoiled bitch. There was no point in complaining or explaining. No one wanted to hear the problems of the poor little rich girl.
Not that I blamed them.
Restrained masculine power radiated off him like heat.
I was used to being surrounded by men with power, but this was different. With those men, their power came from paper. Arbitrary figures plucked from thin air.
Sergeant’s power was primal. The kind that came from heavy muscle, an iron will, and the arrogance of knowing you could break a man’s neck with your bare hands.
I needed to break free from this man before we were caught together.
Rising on my toes, I strained to look over his shoulder to make sure we weren’t observed by the servants. “I won’t dignify that with a response. You have no right to cross the line with me. Now move aside.”
He leaned in close until his breath warmed my cheek as he chuckled, the sound a dark vibration emanating from deep inside his chest. “If you think this is crossing the line, I can’t wait to see your reaction when I—”
My eyes widened as I flattened my palms against his chest and pushed. “Sergeant Taylor, not another word! Let me go!”
Agitation made my voice a high-pitched whisper as I strained to keep it low.
The entire household was on edge after Eddie’s kidnapping. The slightest sound of a commotion would bring everyone running.
My cheeks burned at the idea of being found in such a compromising position. To any observer, it would look like we were caught in a lover’s embrace.
My father and brother would not have the patience to listen to my excuses. They would assume the worst and lock me in my room until I was thirty.
The small freedoms I currently cherished would be yanked away from me.
Oh, hell.
I really needed to get away from this man. Now.
My fingers splayed across his chest. His skin was so warm beneath the soft, worn fabric of his black t-shirt. I inhaled deeply, and the leather and cardamon scent of his cologne was an unholy aphrodisiac.
This was bad. Really bad.
He didn’t budge as his gaze focused on my mouth. “I can’t do that.”
The breath seized in my lungs. My lips tingled as if he had physically touched them.
Knowing I would deeply regret it, I asked, “Why not?”
The corner of his mouth curled up in a wolfish grin. “Because I’m your new bodyguard.”
