Her lips flatten as her shoulders slump in defeat, knowing that even the memory of what a saint she was with my father isn’t going to sway me this time. She knows that I’ve had a very rare win in a battle against her.
“Fine,” she finally says with a long sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” I whisper but the smile she gives in return is dull.
Eyes filled with disappointment, she nods at my water. “Now drink up and let’s get you home. Don’t forget we have an early meeting tomorrow with that security company I want to hire.”
I’m so relieved she’s given up fighting me on the concert that I put the coconut water to my mouth and start to suck every nasty drop of it down.
Chapter 3
Kynan
I pace the lobby of our office building waiting for my 10AM appointment to arrive. I was forced to put on a suit today which I hate, but Jerico asked me to meet with a new prospective client because he was otherwise tied up in meetings in Washington, D.C. I’m waiting in the lobby because we have not hired a receptionist yet. Our client base is too small at this time to justify the expense, but that’s about to change.
Jerico told me he had financial backing to start this business in addition to the huge casino contract we’ve been working on for the last three months since he convinced me to move to Vegas to work for him. He’s been in D.C. a lot so I have to assume some of the financial backing is coming from that part of the country. My guess is he’s been hired to assist in some type of covert operation—with most likely the CIA—and thus I’m here meeting clients.
Our offices are definitely unique. The interior is all dark paneled walls, cream marble flooring, and high-end furniture. The outside looks like a fortress.
He bought a three-story building in downtown Las Vegas that was in foreclosure. The outside is composed of white concrete and to the casual observer driving by, it looks like there are no windows. Just solid concrete from top to bottom.
On closer inspection, though, there are rectangular windows that go floor to ceiling on each level that are frosted on the outside to match the exterior.
It looks strong and intimidating on the approach, but step inside and it’s elegant and warm. I’m guessing Jerico wants his civilian clients to feel comfortable and since most of them are extremely wealthy, he paid a great deal of money to an expensive interior designer to make it so.
My favorite part, though, is a small, discreet silver sign on the main lobby door that reads “The Jameson Group - International Security Services.” It reminds me that in addition to babysitting pop princesses, I will be doing some adrenaline-inducing jobs as well.
I glance at my watch, noting that our very first client could be walking in the door at any minute. For the past three months, we’ve been working non-stop on the casino properties. After hiring me and another marine buddy of his, Jayce Barnes, he went on to recruit another twelve security professionals to join his business. But that project is going to be winding down and he wants to start building up a name in domestic protection services.
Yay. I get to be a bodyguard.
Glancing at my watch again, I wonder if Joslyn Meyers is punctual or doesn’t care about wasting people’s time. My preconception about any star—be it actor, singer, or politician—is that they mostly don’t care about keeping others waiting.
I did my research before today’s meeting because I wanted to know what I’d be facing. Jerico wants to land this contract and even though he has a strong personal recommendation behind him, it’s going to be up to me to seal the deal.
Joslyn Meyers is an interesting story, no doubt. Nineteen years old and probably on a trajectory to stardom. She won a national talent competition—one of those ones that are on TV with celebrity hosts that help them to compete against others week to week—and scored a recording contract. She put out an album but sadly, it had lackluster sales and she wasn’t offered a second one.
She wasn’t defeated though. Joslyn was offered a Vegas contract to perform at one of the major theaters here, where she puts on a show that appeals to a broad base audience. She sings some of her own songs and does amazing covers of legendary artists, and somehow manages to combine in unparalleled choreography with a slew of backup dancers. I understand it’s quite an entertainment spectacle.
So that’s her story. My guess is she’ll move on from Vegas at some point, but here she is now. And apparently needing security services, although I can’t understand why. It’s not like she’s a huge mega star or anything.
When the front door opens, spilling in a little morning light across the creamy marble foyer, I brace myself. That’s because in my research of Joslyn Meyers, the most disgruntling thing I learned about her was that she was a stunningly gorgeous creature with immense talent. If you weren’t swayed to fall in love with her voice, you only had to take one look at her face and body to succumb.
She’s got platinum blonde hair, so light it’s almost silvery. It falls in long, wavy lengths to the middle of her back and swoops down across her forehead, highlighting the angelic lines of her face. It’s absolutely perfect. Not a single thing out of place that would make her seem a bit more real and less like a fairytale princess. Joslyn has the bluest of eyes, pale and shimmering. Her lips are full and inspire a million dirty thoughts. Her body is slamming and I know this because in the research I did, I watched videos of her Vegas act and there’s little left to the imagination when it comes to her costumes.
In totality, she’s the perfect woman and I’m a sucker for such things. The only thing I can hope for is that her personality sucks so I won’t be attracted to her. Despite what many women think, it’s not all about looks.
Not that I’m overly worried about it. I mean, she is just a job.
A job that I am absolutely prohibited from banging, no matter how much I might want to because she’s fucking hot as hell.
I shake my head and force my thoughts out of the gutter and back into business mode. But then she steps into the lobby and my body goes tight upon seeing her. She’s half turned away from me, talking to someone walking in behind her. No clue who it is because I can’t take my eyes off Joslyn.
That amazing silvery blonde hair is in a high ponytail and she’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans, but the T-shirt is molded to her body. I can tell by the slight sway to her tits as she steps inside that they are 100% natural and I bet would feel fantastic in my hands.
Fuck. I shake my head again and concentrate.
“I just don’t know why we need to hire a bodyguard for me,” Joslyn is saying to what I now see is a woman walking in behind her.
That’s right. Her mother, Madeline Meyers. Jerico told me she’d be attending this meeting and from those few words, I know that Joslyn isn’t here because she wants a bodyguard. Her mom does.
And that means she’s probably not a diva, but I’ll reserve judgment for now.
“I’m not going to argue with you about this,” her mom says as she steps inside and the door swings shut. Madeline sees me standing there and that causes Joslyn to turn my way.
Jesus. She’s more beautiful staring at her head on. She looks at me with wide, unblinking eyes and to my horror, her eyes slowly travel down the length of me and then back up again. It’s not done with a sexualized appreciation, more like she’s stunned by what she sees and can’t help but to look closer. When she meets my eyes again, her face flames beet red and her gaze drops to the floor.