Chapter 4
Avery
My sleep is dark and deep, and for the first time since the attack, I don’t dream of the man, his elbow slamming into my face.
Instead, I dream of Maddox.
He’s on top of me, hard muscles against my porcelain skin. I run my hands over his body and pull him down, closer, so there’s no space between us. My hand moves lower and finds his length. I can barely wrap my fingers around it, and he groans.
He pulls down the sheets, and I realize with a shock that I’m naked too. I usually sleep in a t-shirt and panties, but there’s nothing. I’m bare.
Maddox groans, stroking himself. But he’s focused on me, teasing me with his lips and fingers, his body connected to every inch of mine, all at once. I’m writhing in desire, chasing the pleasure no man has given me in all these years.
I need him now, and he is more than ready. I grab him and pull him to me, and with one virile thrust, he…
My eyelids flutter open, and I sit up with a shock. My beat-up t-shirt is still on my body, and the room is dark. There’s no one beside me. No one on top of me. My heart is pounding hard, blood rushing in my ears, arousal pooling between my legs. I pant and pull the covers aside, letting the air cool me.
I don’t want this, I remind myself. I don’t want a fucking bodyguard. And I don’t want Maddox fucking Bryant anywhere near me.
And I don’t want the crushing disappointment of none of this being real.
I used to dream about Maddox often, especially that long, lonely summer after I graduated. I’d go to bed looking forward to it, hoping I’d wake up and see an email from Maddox. Or a letter. Or my phone, lit up with a voicemail from him.
It just didn’t happen. And now my brain has betrayed me.
I don’t need him in my dreams—it’s bad enough that he’s in my apartment.
I can feel his presence, out there on my couch, silently judging me. For staying trapped under my mother’s thumb. For not having to worry about money. For the trust fund in the bank.
And he seems hell bent on following all of those rules, just so he can get that sweet payout. Fuck him. I’d never expected that Maddox Bryant would be the one forcing me to follow my parents’ rules. That’s what he was hired to do. My body seethes with rage.
I sit there, anger brewing until the faint, purplish light of dawn invades my room. My head is throbbing, but the Advil is in the kitchen, and I’m not planning on seeing Maddox just yet.
I have to figure out a way to get the hell out of dodge as soon as the semester ends next week.
My room has an ensuite shower, so I lock myself inside and avoid him until I come out for Advil and coffee. I hope that some miracle made him disappear so the war of emotions and desires inside of me might stop.
But he’s there. Standing in the kitchen. Making French toast and coffee.
My stomach growls. It somehow makes me angrier that he anticipated my needs. I walk to the kitchen to get Advil, but I stop cold. There are four orange pills next to a glass of water and a steaming cup of coffee on my kitchen table.
I sigh and sit down, glancing at Maddox. “There are too many pills,” I say curtly. “And you’re still here.”
He ignores that last part and continues flipping toast.“The doctor said you need four Advil three times a day for three days. It’ll keep the swelling down. Then you can taper down after that. You can alternate with the Vicodin. Trust me. You want to stay ahead of the pain.”
I take the pills and swallow them with my coffee. “I don’t want any French toast. I need to get to class.”
“You’re not going to class,” he says. “And you’re eating breakfast.”
“I am in fact going to class. I need to—”
“Present your paper? Your parents took care of that for you. You apparently completed everything you needed to do for the semester, so they informed Berkeley that you wouldn’t be attending class. Here’s your breakfast.”
Maddox appears beside me and plops three pieces of French toast onto my plate. I groan. I want to shove the plate off the table, but I’m suddenly starving, and my body feels weaker than it did when I first got out of bed.
“They had no right,” I say, digging into the toast. It’s sweet and hot, and there’s steam still coming off of it.
“They pay the bills for your courses, don’t they?” Maddox’s voice is gruff. He returns to the table and puts down a plate of bacon. I take three pieces and crumble them up over my toast.
And then I eat, refusing to respond to Maddox. The food is ridiculously delicious, each bite melting in my mouth, sweet and salty all at once. Maddox watches me eat, taking reserved bites of his own food the entire time.
“You can go now,” I say, tucking my knees up beneath my chin. “And I don’t want you making my breakfast anymore.”
“‘Thank you, Maddox. That was a great breakfast, Maddox,’” he says, sarcasm dripping from his every word. “Why, you’re welcome, Avery.”
“I’m grown, Maddox.”
“I can see that,” he says. His expression is blank, and I don’t entirely know what he means. There’s a jolt deep inside of me, though, and his gaze doesn’t leave me.
“Then you need to be in your apartment. I need to stay in mine. Got it?”
“No, I do not ‘got it,’” he says.
I suppress a growl and try not to let on the fact that I’m starving. “You live across the street. One night in my apartment is enough.”
“Not when my principal is uncooperative and looks to be a flight risk.” Maddox crosses his arms. “I know that much about personal protection. It would be foolish of me to leave you at this stage in the game.”
“Look —” I start, my head pounding. “I am grown. I promise I’ll check in with you at the end of each night and the beginning of every day.”
“After today, maybe. But that guy might still be lurking around here. I’ll have to set up surveillance in your apartment.”
I blush. I don’t like the thought of him looking at me, but it might be better than him living with me. “Fine.”
“And you promise that if you do in fact flee, you blame it on yourself. Not me. I need this job. And other than your alone time in this exact apartment, I’m on your ass 24-7.”
“Okay.” I cross my own arms. “Now, go. I need that ‘alone time’ you’re talking about.”
“Yes, ma’am. But your parents have informed me that you do not eat breakfast. I’m here to make sure that you do. I take this job seriously since it’s currently my source of income. And my way to get my own home. I’ll leave once the election is over. But for now, I’m doing as your parents tell me. And that includes getting you to eat breakfast, at least while you’re still healing.”
“So, you’re going to make me eat? That’s part of this job, is it? Treating me like a kid so I can show up where I need to show up?”
His hair is still the color of whiskey. It’s short now, a slightly grown-out military cut. His eyes are stormy and distant and somehow sad. I want to rage against him, to show him all the pent-up things inside, to tell him what it’s like to be trapped in a box, observed by my parents and the world at large. But I don’t. Instead, I sulk and slump down in my chair.
“Look, Avery.” His voice is slightly softer than it was before. “I don’t think this situation is a dream for either of us, but it’ll be a hell of a lot easier if we work together. Your parents have rules. I’m here to follow them. And if you do as I say, I won’t have to treat you like a kid. I don’t love following a grown woman around, telling her what to do. But I need the money, and it is what it is.”
I say nothing. Instead I get another cup of coffee, loading it with cream this time. My head isn’t hurting nearly as bad, and my body feels slightly more normal again. I won’t admit it to Maddox, but that greasy breakfast was exactly what I needed.
“Easy for you to say.” I lean against the counter. My kitchen is all granite and stainless steel, and the apartment is nearly five thousand a month. I’m suddenly aware of what my life must look like to Maddox. My parents are even richer than they were before. “I’m the one taking orders.”
“You don’t know shit about taking orders,” Maddox says, a hard edge in his voice. “I took orders for six and a half years. When I was in Afghanistan, there were nights I didn’t know if I was going to die. Or if I’d have to watch someone else die. I didn’t have a choice. I had to fall in line.
“Sometimes you have to follow orders so you can stay safe. I don’t love your parents, Avery. God knows I don’t. But with the election and all the talk of your mom running for president next term, you need protection. It’s past time for it.”
I don't look at him but I can feel my heart pounding. I hate feeling like he’s right. There was always that sense of rightness about him, even when we were both kids. Like he had some part of life figured out that I hadn’t. I’m not sure if it came from the way he grew up, but it was always there. I hate that he makes sense. And I hate even more that everything in me wants to rebel against him and cut him down.
“I’m an adult,” I repeat. “And I don’t want to be forced to my mother’s events.”
“You can’t show up for what your mom does? Because—what? It’s boring? Or is it just to piss her off?”
I scowl. It’s deeper than that, but Maddox doesn’t have the look of someone who wants to listen to that right now.
“You need protection,” he continues. “Go look at yourself in the mirror if you disagree.”
I bite my lip, and then I respond. “You had your years in the military. I don’t know anything about that. My private hell isn’t anything like yours, but I still live in it. My parents drop by the apartment. They show up at school. They do background checks on any guy I date. And when I finally get hurt, all they can do is think about how I look on camera.”
“Poor little rich girl,” he says. His voice is flat, and it’s impossible to get a read on the emotion behind his voice.
He looks at me coolly, and a lump forms in my throat. My eyes prickle, and there are tears. I don’t know this Maddox, the one who calls me names and informs me that he’s going to do everything my parents wish.
“You need to go,” I say. My voice is hoarse from holding back the crying.
“I don’t want to be here anyway. I can keep an eye on you today from where I live. But if you try to leave, I’ll be appearing right back at your doorstep. You need to eat. You need to sleep. And you need to rest. Nothing else.”
Maddox stands up and turns, heading for the door.
I muster up all the anger inside, turning towards him. There won’t be any more dreams. Not if I can help it.
The door closes with an unsatisfying thud. I walk to the window and watch him as he crosses the street.
When he’s inside, it’s clear that his apartment directly faces mine. The window looks into my living room. Before I have a second to think, he goes to his own window and gives a wave in my direction. Knowing my parents, he has orders to watch me whenever and however he can.
This is why I never wanted a bodyguard.
Teenage me would have thought this was sexy. I dreamed of Maddox watching me every day.
But that was then. This is now. I’m older, angrier, and ready to fight.
Fine. If he wants to follow every order my parents lay out for him, there’s no way I’m going to make this easy.
Game on, Maddox.
You can follow the rules.
I’ll be busy breaking them.