The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,6

many people have seen it.”

“God, I hope not.”

Luna rubbed a few circles across my back. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Thanks. I should go bid on some things.” I set my napkin and empty martini glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

Daisy was busy flirting with the guy who’d bid on the ugly giraffe—which didn’t say much about his taste, but to each his own. I wandered around the auction tables with Emily and Luna, absently bidding on things.

It had arguably been one of the worst weeks of my life—attacked in a parking garage and a potential sex scandal just days apart—so I was glad to be out with my girls. At thirty-six I still loved playing dress-up, and a black-tie event was a great excuse to dress to the nines. I’d hoped a killer gown and stilettos would take my mind off everything else.

So far I’d spent most of my evening fantasizing about bad things happening to my ex and having imaginary confrontations with him in my head. The good news was, if I did run into him, I had at least a dozen zingers ready.

Aldrich wasn’t here, however, and I couldn’t decide if that was a very good thing, or a massive disappointment.

We’d broken up six months ago, and until Monday, I’d been completely over it. Early in our relationship I’d imagined a future with him, but I’d eventually realized we were totally wrong for each other. Even in the immediate aftermath of our breakup, I hadn’t been grieving him so much as the loss of nearly three years with the wrong man. I hadn’t shed any tears. Mostly ranted to my friends while we drank wine in Daisy’s hot tub.

After that it had been business as usual. I had an aerospace empire to run.

But Monday, a friend of his who was not a total douche had called to let me know Aldrich had shared the video with a handful of his buddies. His friend had thought it was a dick move and wanted me to know.

I’d thanked him and started plotting Aldrich’s murder.

Except not literally.

Daisy sidled up next to me and slipped her arm around mine. “I think you need another drink.”

“What happened to giraffe guy?”

“He was cute, but he’s American, so, you know.”

Daisy only dated European men. If you could call what she did dating. I admired her give-no-fucks spirit. Daisy Carter-Kincaid forged her own path and didn’t care what other people thought.

Luna and Emily joined us, and we made our way to the bar for another round of cocktails. We wandered back to our table—it seated eight, but we’d kept it to just the four of us by buying out the other seats—and sat down with our drinks.

“Cam, there’s another reason we all came out tonight,” Emily said.

“You mean other than the chance to bid on jewel-encrusted zoo animals? Do tell.”

“Just hear me out.” She glanced at Luna and Daisy. They both nodded.

Oh lovely. The vagillionaires—Daisy’s term for the four of us—were about to gang up on me.

“You need personal security,” Emily said.

“At least until we can be sure it was an isolated incident,” Luna said.

“It probably was,” I said. “And I have security.”

“Not personal security,” Emily said. “Derek knows someone who’s very good.”

“I appreciate what you’re all trying to do, but I’m fine. I don’t need some scary dude in dark glasses following me around everywhere.”

“It’s not nearly as bad as you think,” Daisy said. She glanced around and waved to her bodyguard. “Alessandro’s the man. You just need to find someone you like.”

“I agree,” Luna said. “It’s comforting to know someone has your back.”

I took a sip of my martini and set my glass down. This wasn’t the first time they’d brought this up and I was bristling hard at the idea of a personal bodyguard. It felt so stifling. I already had a staff of people surrounding me. I didn’t want to add someone whose job was essentially to follow me around all the time.

“We have building security at work,” I said.

“That didn’t stop some jackass from trying to snatch your handbag,” Daisy said.

“I still maintain that was an isolated incident, and they’re taking precautions so it doesn’t happen again.”

“You’re not always at work,” Luna said.

“We all know Bluewater’s safe,” I said. The Bluewater enclave—where the four of us lived—was our baby. We’d developed twenty-five hundred acres of swampland into a thriving micro-community. It was one of my proudest achievements, and there was nothing like being neighbors with your best friends. It made life