Guarding Her Heart

by Jade Webb

  As I break our contact, she turns away and I can feel her hurt and confusion. It makes me feel like such an asshole. I kick myself for being so reckless and letting the wrong parts of my anatomy guide me this evening. I had let my walls down, flirted with this girl, and let her get under my skin. And only when my plate was cleared did I finally realize that this was a colossal fucking mistake. There is no way I can focus on my job protecting Daphni if I'm constantly distracted by her younger sister. I need this job and I desperately need the money. There is too much on the line to risk it all.

  We finally arrive back to the hotel after fifteen agonizing minutes of silence. We continue our silent march as we walk to the elevators and I press the button for her floor. My plan is to walk her to her door, make sure she gets inside safely, and then run like hell out of there.

  After what feels like an eternity, we arrive to the floor and I follow behind Gabby as she walks to her hotel room. She pulls her key out of the bag on her wrist and slides it into the door. She hesitates briefly before opening the door and I swear I can hear the wheels turning in her head.

  Turning around to face me with the door to her room slightly ajar, she tells me, “You know, I have cake in my room.”

  I clench my jaw but try to keep my face relaxed. “Gabby, I—"

  “It’s just cake, Liam. Besides, it’s my birthday. You can’t have me eating my birthday cake all alone now, can you?” she asks in a teasing tone.

  My walls collapse: she looks so nervous and hopeful, and the thought of disappointing her breaks my last fragment of self-control.

  I shake my head and offer her a smile. “Sure, of course,” I reply, and I follow her inside.

  I stand awkwardly by the door and trail her with my eyes as she kicks off her heels and marches over to the mini-fridge. Her hotel room is similar to mine, with a large living room with a couch, television, and kitchenette. A closed door leads off to the bedroom, and I have to physically restrain myself from hauling Gabby over my shoulder a second time and kicking the door open to her bedroom.

  “Ta da!” Gabby announces as she opens a white box to reveal a small, circular, bright-pink birthday cake. It has a single candle perched on the top next to a flower made of icing. Laying it on top of the coffee table, Gabby drops down onto the couch and looks over to me.

  “Do you want to have a seat?” she asks.

  I nod, realizing how ridiculous I look huddled in the corner. I take a seat a few inches away and pull a lighter out of my pocket to light the short candle. Gabby rewards me for the small gesture with a beaming smile, and it makes me feel like I rescued a box of kittens from drowning in a well.

  “Time to make a wish,” I tell her as I hold the cake up to her.

  Closing her eyes, Gabby leans forward, pursing her lips together. In the dim light of the room, the flickering candle illuminates the softness of her face and her full, lush lips. Those fucking lips will kill me. Plump and pink, I want to reach out and run the pad of my thumb over them. I want to feel them crushed under mine as I devour her mouth with hungry kisses. I want to see them wrapped around the thickness of my hard—

  “Liam?” Gabby’s voice pulls me out of my depraved reverie.

  I shoot her a quizzical look. “Eh?”

  “Cake? You want a slice of cake?”

  “Cake, yeah right. Please.”

  She takes the cake from me and cuts me a piece, carefully placing it on a round ceramic plate before handing it to me. She cuts another piece for herself and then leans back into the plush couch cushions.

  A loud moan escapes her lips and I angle my face to watch her. Her eyes are closed, and she is licking the plastic fork clean, her tongue darting out to catch every last speck of icing.

  I force myself to look away and focus on the cake on my plate. I shovel it into my mouth in two quick bites and place the plate on the glass coffee table with a loud clang.

  “You want another piece?” Gabby asks as she sees my empty plate. She is not even done with hers yet, still taking her time and enjoying every taste.

  “No, I’m good. I think I’m actually going to head out. You know, long day tomorrow.”

  I start to push up off the couch but Gabby shoots her hand out to catch my arm.

  “Wait.” She brings her plate down to the table and turns to look at me. “Thank you so much for tonight,” she says, as she trails her hand down my arm.

  Though my brain is screaming at me to run away, my fucking body won’t listen. Instead it collapses into the couch below me, my only lifeline the feeling of Gabby’s hand on my arm. I do nothing but watch as Gabby shifts on the couch, bringing her leg up to straddle me. She places her hands on my shoulders as she shifts her weight to settle her warm core on top of my eager cock. She lets out a soft gasp as she feels my cock prick up at the contact. Surprisingly, though, she doesn’t stop. With her eyes locked on mine, she leans forward and places a chaste, tentative kiss on my lips.

  Instantly all my senses are overwhelmed. The sweetness of her lips on mine, the flowery scent of her perfume, the searing-hot touch of her hands burning through my clothes, the gorgeous swirl of lust and desire in her eyes, and the sound of her breath mixing with mine. Everything about this girl is overpowering me, and I finally admit defeat and allow my body to submit. I lift my hand to grasp the back of her head, tangling my fingers through her hair and pulling her face closer to mine. My other hand cups her ass, squeezing it, encouraging her to rub herself against me and give us both the release we desperately need.

  The second her lips are on mine a second time, I angle my face so I can take her kisses in more fully. I open my mouth, let my marauding tongue go free, and coax her lips to open to mine. The second she does, my tongue enters her. I have an overwhelming desire to conquer this woman the same way she has so obviously conquered me. When I feel her tongue dart out to meet mine, I grow even harder and I dig my fingers into her plump ass, encouraging her to keep grinding against me.

  A loud moan escapes her lips and it’s like my fucking Kryptonite. Instantly I’m pulled back to reality. A reality where my boss’ little sister, who is obviously drunk, is grinding herself on my hard dick. I feel a rush of anger and guilt as I realize that I am doing every goddamn thing I swore I wouldn’t be doing ten minutes ago. I jerk away, and a startled Gabby topples off me, landing on the couch beside me.

  “Gabby,” I start, my voice raw with desire.

  Sensing my change, Gabby scrambles off the couch. “No, Liam. It’s okay,” she cuts me off before I can finish.

  I rake my fingers through my hair and let out a huff of air in frustration. “Gabby, let me finish,” I demand.

  Ignoring me, she makes a beeline for the door, opening it to the hallway. “I’m good, Liam. I got a little out of control. I’m sorry,” she curtly replies.

  I stalk toward her. “Gabby, just listen to me! You are a great girl. You are but…Fuck, Gabby. I work for your sister and I need this job and this is so fucked up.” The words leave my mouth before I can even try to edit them.

  “Wait, that isn’t what I mean,” I try to quickly add, but the damage has already been done. I can see her eyes glistening, and it fucking destroys me to know that I have single-handedly made her birthday an even greater disaster.

  I open my mouth again but snap it closed when I see the obvious hurt all over face. I walk past her and step into the empty hallway as she quickly shuts the door behind me. Maybe it’s better that she hates me, I tell myself. If she hates me, it will be easier for me to resist her. But even as the words enter my head, I know it’s bullshit. Because resisting someone like Gabby Monroe is downright fucking impossible.

  18

  Gabby

  The sound of a piercing chirping rips me out of my semi-comatose state. I feel every cell in my body ache as I slowly open one, then both, of my eyes. The bright daylight seeping in through the windows is instantly making me regret not closing the blinds last night before collapsing into bed.

  My d
amn phone lets out another series of loud, obnoxious chirps. I flail around in bed, trying to find it without lifting my head, which was buried under a pile of pillows. Defeated, I pick up my head and a flash of blinding white light makes me moan out loud.

  God, this is what it must feel like to be dying. I must be dying. That is the only possible explanation for the way I feel right now.

  I push through the pain and pick up my head again, forcing down the bile creeping up my throat, and finally locate my phone. It’s eleven o’clock and I already have six missed messages from Daphni. Another wave of nausea hits me and I know this isn’t going to pass as quickly. I scurry out of the bed and rush to the bathroom. As soon as I fall to my knees in front of the toilet, the contents of my three-course dinner, cake, and champagne glutton fest come roaring out. When I am finally convinced everything has been successfully expelled from my stomach, I push myself up to the sink and splash cold water on my face. I look like hell, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be in serious need of a liver transplant. I cannot afford to keep having mornings like these: my body wasn't made for this. I was made for early nights in bed with warm cups of tea and Hallmark movie marathons.

  I peer into the mirror and pull at the hardened clumps of dried icing coating my hair. It’s stuck in there, and a faint memory of falling asleep on top of my birthday cake returns to me.

  I start the shower and slip out of the long nightshirt I had thrown on backwards. I step into the waterfall shower and let the steaming hot water revive me. Unfortunately, the more time I spend in the shower, the more memories come flooding back, which makes me want to throw up all over again.

  Last night had been so confusing. First, I had been devastated because Daphni had completely blown me off. Then Liam had stepped in and totally swept me off my feet. He was so funny and smart and engaging. God, and so handsome. I mean, his arms alone had my mouth watering. But even that was nothing compared to his face. He has these chilling, steely grey eyes that seemed to see right through me. And even his stupid mouth was hypnotizing. Every smile he gave me tore a brick out of the barricade I had spent years expertly crafting around my heart. Something about meeting Liam had seemed to open a door inside of me, a door to possibility, to hope. And just as quickly as I had let him open those doors, he had shown me what an idiotic, trusting fool I had been.

  Threading my fingers through my hair as I wash the shampoo away, I kick myself for obsessing over him. God, how would I ever be able to erase the images of last night, of his tortured face as he practically threw me off of him? He had looked so disgusted and upset, as if the thought of kissing me, of being with me, had physically repulsed him.

  As I turn the shower off and step onto the cool tile floor, I force myself to leave any thoughts of Liam behind. At least it’s better to know now that I completely disgust him. God forbid I had actually let myself fall for him and learned what an asshole he was a few weeks, or even months, from now. And, while admittedly he had managed to chip away at my walls, at least he hadn’t had the opportunity to completely tear them away and leave me as foolish and as lonely as so many of the women in my family have been.

  No, Liam has not broken my heart. He has not destroyed me. And damn it, he would certainly never get the opportunity.

  19

  Liam

  Three days.

  Three fucking days that Gabby has been avoiding me and her sister like the goddamn plague.

  Were it not for Melissa reassuring me, I would have assumed she had fled the country. I have no idea if Gabby even told Melissa what happened between us, but in my short time working with Melissa and seeing how she interacts with Daphni, I have learned that the woman is fucking Fort Knox, and trying to get information out of her is damn near impossible. If Gabby had told her about what an asshole I had been to her, Melissa is doing a good job of pretending that she doesn’t know a thing.

  I tell myself it’s for the best and that I need to focus on my job. Though that is bullshit, too. Truthfully, I am not protecting Daphni as much as I am simply babysitting her. The girl is a train wreck and surprisingly has been even more of a mess after realizing how pissed her sister was at her. I know she has been sending Gabby dozens of messages and that Gabby has been ignoring them all. I know because I watch her type out each one and I see her frustration when she picks up her phone every ten minutes to check it for a response.

  Though in all honesty, I am not much better. Every break I have I use to try and find out where the hell Gabby has been hiding. When we left New York, we found out that Gabby had decided to stay an extra day in the city. Melissa had said it was because Gabby wanted to sneak in a study session with a tutor, but I had called bullshit. Gabby knew she couldn’t avoid me or her sister on a private jet. And when we had landed in Montreal for the next leg of the show, Gabby had conveniently missed her flight.

  But after overhearing Melissa on the phone giving the address of the hotel, I know she finally landed and is en route to the hotel now. Just knowing that Gabby and I are finally in the same fucking city has every single one of my nerves on edge. Every time I hear a door open or a phone ring, I feel my body react in hope that it’s Gabby. It’s really fucking pathetic.

  “What?”

  At the sound of Daphni’s screeching voice, I turn to see her red face contorted in anger as she jumps off the couch where she had been sitting with Melissa.

  “Daphni, please just hear me out,” Melissa pleads.

  “No way, Mel! This is my tour! No way am I going to let anyone take this from me!” Daphni continues to scream, her shrill voice growing louder with each word.

  “No one is taking the tour away from you, Daphni! But we need to be realistic, and we aren’t selling enough tickets to sustain the tour. We need to bring on Jordan James.”

  My ears perk up at the familiar name. I had heard about Jordan through my buddies also in the industry. Tyrone, an acquaintance of mine, had been hired as part of his security detail and he had complained all the time about him, calling him an entitled prick. He was a spoiled, over-privileged singer who partied all the time, was always ditching his security team, and scamming on his young fans. Basically, he had a pretty shit reputation. Tyrone had made it four months with him before finally quitting. Handling Daphni and her constant mood swings was enough work without adding the extra nuisance of babysitting another spoiled pop star man whore.

  “Fine, then! I quit. Good luck on a tour without your goddamn headliner!” Daphni screeches before taking a long swig from her water bottle.

  Melissa jumps up from the couch, throwing her hands in the air. “Daphni, enough! Either you accept that Jordan is on the tour and co-headlining or you cancel the tour and get sued by the label for breach of contract! You pick!” Melissa’s normally calm and serene voice is laced with frustration and finality.

  Daphni’s face pales at Melissa’s words. Collapsing back onto the couch, she lets out a frustrated growl. “Melissa, this was supposed to be my comeback tour. This was my chance to finally get it right. And now I have to share it with Jordan James? The Prince of Pussy? God, have I fallen this low?” She asks, her voice cracking.

  Melissa lays a gentle hand on top of Daphni’s. “Daphni, it is still your tour. But, we need Jordan to sell the remaining seats for the tour so we can keep it going. I’m sorry, hon.”

  “Fine,” Daphni finally concedes after a long moment.

  Melissa nods silently and rubs comforting circles on Daphni’s back.

  “Did you hear from her?” I hear Daphni ask Melissa after a long pause, her voice just above a whisper.

  Melissa nods her head. “She’s in the city.”

  “Will she come to my show tonight?”

  “I don’t think so, honey. She’s still pretty upset. You need to be the one to reach out.”

  “I am reaching out! I sent her like ten texts!” Daphni protests.

  “Daphni, come on. You know your sister. She doesn’t want a text message.”

  “Well,
what else am I supposed to do if she keeps running away?” Daphni asks.

  “Daphni, you know how Gabby is. This is her MO. When she’s hurt, she runs and hides. Can you really blame her?”

  Daphni lets out a bitter chuckle. “God, she’s going to hate me forever.” Daphni’s shoulders curve inward, making her look so small and weak. It’s then I see how these last few days have really destroyed her; she is looking more and more tired. There are deep, dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, and she looks like she’s lost a few more pounds off her tiny frame. I suppose learning that your mother’s dead, your sister hates you, and that you have to share your tour with a prick you hate all within the span of a few days can pretty much destroy anyone’s soul.

  I take a deep breath and walk over to Daphni and Melissa, sitting down on the edge of the couch. “Daphni, why don’t you try and do something special for her? Where it’s just the two of you? All she really wants is to spend time with you.”

  Melissa and Daphni’s heads turn to look at me in surprise, both having forgotten I was in the room.

  Melissa takes a moment before nodding at my words. “You know, he’s right, Daphni.”

  “Hmm,” Daphni ruminates before narrowing her eyes and shooting me a suspicious look. “And since you are now the ‘Gabby whisperer,’ what would you suggest, Liam?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Gabby’s simple. She cares more about substance than style. Skip the fancy dinners, clubs—she’ll hate that. Think of what is important to your sister,” I answer.

  “What’s important to her,” Daphni echoes thoughtfully. She pushes up from the couch and paces around the room. “Well, she loves puppies. She also has a weird obsession with goats, but whatever. Um, she likes to study.” She stops suddenly and looks at Melissa. “Mel, what’s the next stop after Canada? Isn’t it Columbus?”