A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)
By: Meli Raine
But as long as they think I am, that’s what counts. Four years after being raped by three men and let down horribly by a fourth, I should be healed. I should be better. I should be ready to pick up the pieces of my old life and move on.
Stacia certainly thinks so. She clicks the pen over and over, her hand hovering above the clipboard in her hand. I know what those papers are. I keep my hands straight by my side. I control my breathing. I keep my face neutral.
Then I realize she needs more from me.
Just one more little show of appropriate emotion before I can be released.
I reach down and pinch myself where the tender skin of my hip meets my thigh, and bite down on my inner lip as hard as possible. I shudder, and tears spring to my eyes.
I sniff. She looks at me, surprised, and I give her a shaky smile. The shakiness isn’t fake. I really am shaking.
Because I’m worried she won’t let me go home.
“Of course,” I say, filling my throat with the emotion she expects. “Of course, it’s hard to leave after four years here. Heck, that’s—what? Almost a fifth of my entire life? A sixth?” I take in a deep breath and ignore the raw taste of cut flesh in my mouth. My breath tremors as I exhale. “It’ll be hard to leave this place behind. But I have to. It’s the only way I can grow.”
Click.
Unclick.
Click.
Unclick.
And then Stacia takes the ballpoint pen and makes an efficient flick of her wrist.
Checkmark.
She signs the paper at the bottom, unpops it from the clipboard, and walks over to me. She smiles. It seems genuine.
“Let’s get you out to that helicopter,” she says, mouth widening.
My inner joy mingles with the sound of heavy, quick footsteps, coming down the hallway. We both turn our heads to follow the sound.
“Ah,” Stacia says. She’s clearly been expecting whoever is coming. “It’s the head of your security detail. Your father said he has a new man with tremendous experience in protecting foreign dignitaries in dangerous situations around the world. He’s perfect for a senator’s daughter. You’re going to be safe no matter where you are, from now on, Lindsay.”
I hold back a snort. I know that’s not allowed. Instead, I tilt my head, like I’m trying to understand what she’s saying. Except, I actually know what she’s really saying.
Daddy doesn’t trust me, so he’s assigned me high-level babysitters disguised as bodyguards.
“What a relief,” I say, continuing to fake it.
The steps halt, the door opens, and—
In walks my second biggest nightmare.
Chapter 3
Short, clipped chestnut hair. Brown eyes the color of well-worn leather, eyes that blaze with intelligence and a guardedness no one could ever breach. He’s bigger than the last time I saw him, four years ago. Broader. More muscular. He’s a controlled, contained man who has a James Bond air to him.
And he’s looking at me right now with eyes so cold they might as well be icebergs.
“Lindsay, let me introduce you to Andrew,” Stacia starts.
Drew. Oh, God, it’s true.
“Andrew Foster will be your new security specialist. He and his team will keep you safe.”
I snort.
He stares.
Stacia’s eyes leap from Drew to me and back. “Is there a problem?” she asks, brows turning down. That’s more emotion than I’ve seen in her for four years. Her gaze darts between me and Drew, assessing the situation. No matter what, I lose if she decides something’s going sour here.
Even if Drew is the one gone bad.
“No.” Drew and I say the word at the exact same moment, in the same tone of voice. It sounds like a sharp clap, a single sound that shatters noise.
“You two know each other?” Stacia asks, her fingers caressing the paper. Without that discharge form, I can’t leave. If Drew ruins this for me, it will be the second time in my life he’s fucked up.
The first time was four years ago when he let three of our friends rape me.
And while this situation right now doesn’t have quite the same horrific consequences, I’d prefer he not ruin my escape.
Without answering Stacia, Drew looks away from me and opens the door. “Ms. Bosworth?” he says, gesturing for me to walk out.
Ms. Bosworth.
It’s like that, is it? You date a guy for three years and one day, you’re just a client. A Ms.
A stranger.
I freeze. Stacia’s eyes narrow and she takes in Drew. He cuts quite a figure. Besides looking like a giant marine in a suit, he’s wearing an earbud with a small microphone. The outside of a gun holster presses against the bottom of his suit jacket. He looks like a Secret Service agent.
Close. He’s pretty close to being one.
“Senator Bosworth is waiting for you, Ms. Bosworth,” Drew says in a voice so polite I want to slap him. My palm tingles at the thought. Seeing him is enough of a shock. Being treated like some stranger is so much worse than his presence.
I can’t mess up, though. Stacia could still stop me from leaving.
“I haven’t finished her discharge papers,” Stacia interrupts. Her tone is clear: she’s the one in charge.
“That’s not my problem,” Drew barks back. His tone is even clearer.