the gym downstairs, and my groceries are brought in by my chef who does my meal plans for the week.”
“You never leave your house?”
I don’t miss his condescension. “Only when I need to.”
“What do you do for fun?”
My mouth opens to throw out answers, but they die on the tip of my tongue. “I work. That’s my fun. Performing in front of thousands of fans is fun.”
Iris writes something down I can’t see from where I’m sitting.
Then I truly think about my answer. A lot would argue that being famous is fun. Glamour, glitz, and extravagance. But if I really think about the last time I went out with friends and had actual fun …
I draw a blank.
I used to go out with the guys from Eleven, but we’re talking VIP sections of clubs so we wouldn’t get mobbed, high security, and artificial fun environments where we were constantly paranoid about what we were doing and who was watching.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to go out without that cautious voice in the back of my head warning me about impending stampedes of fans.
First-world problems, I guess.
Iris writes a few more things down on his list and then grins up at me. “How much will you care if Brix’s first impression of you isn’t the best?”
“You mean second impression? His first impression was me pointing a gun at you like a crazy man. How much worse can it get?”
“I’m taking that as permission to go full pop star diva on him.”
I laugh. “That actually might be close to the truth.”
“Definitely gonna be so much fun.”
Chapter Four
Brix
When I return to the house, laughter filters through the large empty space as soon as I open the door.
It doesn’t sound like Iris, but imagining the guy from earlier today—the one on edge, the one willing to shoot someone—he doesn’t seem like the type of person to go from erratic to laughing so easily.
Yet, when I walk through the kitchen area and into the sitting room, there’s no denying the happy sound is coming from Harley Valentine’s mouth.
I have to admit, it’s a mesmerizing mouth. His smile lights up his whole face. Gone is the tired-looking, wrecked man I met earlier.
His stormy-blue eyes shine when he laughs, and his long, ginger-tinged lashes frame his eyes in a hypnotic way. The contrast between his brown hair and the reddish scruff on his face makes me wonder what his natural hair color is.
Either way, there’s no denying he’s a good-looking guy. Sharp jaw and pouty lips.
He might just be the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen. Even more so than Iris, which I didn’t think was possible.
Though, they’re sitting too close for my liking, and something wrong twinges in my gut.
Not because of the pretty thing but because Iris is known to blur lines. I don’t think he’d ever cross them, but his favorite thing is blurring them.
Even if the client has a fiancée, Iris doesn’t care. It’s like his flirt button doesn’t have an off switch.
I clear my throat, and the laughter between them dies down, but their matching mischievous smiles don’t fade. “Iris, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure thing, boss.” He stands.
“Wait,” Harley says. “Brix is your boss?”
“He’s taking point on this assignment, so technically …”
Suddenly, Harley doesn’t look so happy anymore. I don’t know what’s changed in the last ten seconds other than I’ve come home.
Great start, but I can’t dwell on what he thinks about me right now. I know I’ll need to apologize for the mix-up earlier, but that can wait.
Iris leads me into the kitchen and pulls some orange juice from the fridge. “What’s up?”
I fold my arms. “Do you need me to lecture you about being professional with this guy?”
He rolls his eyes. “No, but I’m totally interested in what you have to say, so please, go ahead. Get it out of your system.”
“He’s our client.”
“Right.”
“It’s our job to protect him. Not … flirt with him.”
Iris puts a hand to his heart. “Oh, you poor, sex-deprived man. If you think that’s flirting, I feel so, so, so, so sorry for you. Want me to give you a few pointers?”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s a bit direct, but I guess it could be considered flirting.”
“Griffin,” I snap.
He knows I’m serious when I use his last name. “I wasn’t flirting. I was getting to know the guy. If I have to spend my next twenty-six Sundays with him, I figure I should get to know what type of guy