Page 6

Joelle

Okay. So she had a crush on the bodyguard.

It was no big deal.

It must happen to every woman he was around because his silent, stoic act was an absolute panty-melter.

Unlike some other girls, Joelle didn’t hold back from openly admiring his handsome face as she rambled on. He’d hardly even touched the coffee, whereas she’d already had two and considered a third because coffee was life’s happy juice, as any sane person knew.

On her deathbed, instead of confessing to her sins, Joelle would ask for one last coffee.

She had no clue what she was talking about, but she just kept babbling to avoid the awkward silence while her hormones woke up and drooled over the hot guy in front of her.

The sheer muscle-bulging size of him was mouthwatering. She bet he worked out a lot and lifted weights to give him arms the size of tree trunks. Shoulders that wide definitely didn’t come naturally, she thought, admiringly.

He wouldn’t go for a girl like her. Joelle was soft all over, carrying extra pounds she was okay with, and she was, with no room for misinterpretation, allergic to exercise. Okay, fine, she wasn’t genuinely allergic. That would have been neat and a perfect excuse. She enjoyed a stroll in the park. And occasionally, she attended a dance class with her friends Molly and Sadie. Beyond that, Joelle disliked the idea of getting fit. So, she felt safe knowing she could admire his face without rejection at the end.

Smiling, she sipped her coffee.

“So, what brings you to my door?”

“Have you finally finished?”

Joelle blinked and lowered the cup to her lap. “I guess so. Unless you want to know all about this other show I’m watching at bedtime? It’s not as addictive.”

“Fuck no.” He frowned, and she thought he looked adorable. Like a big hostile bear. “My men tell me you’re giving them issues.”

Her eyebrows hit her blue hairline. “Your men are snitches. Running to their daddy because I asked one little teensy favor.”

She saw his lips twitching, and Joelle felt her chest aerate, knowing she’d made him react.

“I already had to talk with your brother today. I don’t wanna have to keep coming back here to sort you both out.”

“First, you talked to Reeves? You better have been nice to him. He’s not like our father. And second, neither of us needs sorting out, as you eloquently put it. We’re people, Diamond. And people need understanding. We’re not pot plants you can move from room to room and not expect them to have an opinion. I have many opinions.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Joelle, not Sherlock.” She grinned and tucked her legs underneath her on the couch. If she was going to get a lecture from the serious bodyguard, she needed to be comfortable.

“What was the problem today?”

“I simply asked Titan if he’d mind waiting at the house while I went to a quick appointment. He got all growly about it and refused, which was unreasonable. I even tried to bribe him with macarons, but he was steadfast. I’m sure the chef has the right baked goods to make him crack.”

The biker’s head dropped over his clasped hands, and Joelle couldn’t decipher his muttering, but it wasn’t very complimentary from the tone. When his head lifted, his eyes pierced her down to the marrow, and her needy nipples became hard pebbles.

“Have you ever followed the rules?”

Joelle snickered. “If only you knew.”

There was little choice in the Snow family but to follow every rule laid out for you. From kindergarten through college, Joelle had been the good girl who didn’t cause waves or argue the point. Everything ever written about her had been rumors and lies. She never denied those lies because they made her sound wild and exciting. Something she was not.

That didn’t mean she didn’t get up to stuff.

She was just clever enough never to get caught.

It was easier than trying to rebel.

“What was the appointment?” his gravelly, assertive tone broke into her musing, and Joelle lifted her eyes. Finding Diamond watching her was unsettlingly good.

“Excuse me?”

“This important reason you tried to ditch Titan for.”

“Oh, yes, that. It’s private and not something I want to discuss with a virtual stranger, but I stress it was important, and I’ve had to rearrange the appointment for Friday.”

Another gusty sigh. It sounded like the bodyguard needed a deep-tissue, stress reliever massage asap, or the top of his skull might burst open with all that frustration he was carrying.

“I hate to break it to you, Bluebell, but privacy doesn’t matter a lick of shit right now. We can’t protect you around your schedule when it’s convenient.”

Bluebell.

He’d given her a nickname, and it was adorable!

Joelle flashed Diamond a smile and decided she would try to be more amenable with him and his staff. She would try .

This sucked, though.

Usually, in December, she liked to hunker down alone as much as possible to get through the holiday season. Between the parties and gatherings, that is. And there were so many on her calendar it nearly brought Joelle out in an anti-social rash.

“Kidnappers don’t take into consideration that you might need privacy so that you can go for a waxing or your nails painted.”

Joelle blinked at his assumption.

But she focused on the more pressing matter. Her tongue dried when she asked, “Is it that serious?” She’d hate being held for ransom. She wagered they wouldn’t allow her to watch Schitt’s Creek before bed.

Diamond’s eyes focused, his jaw relaxed, and he unclasped his hands, leaving them dangling between his manly spread legs. He was just so masculine and appealing to the eye.

He didn’t answer. Which, as anyone knows, was an answer in itself.

“My father isn’t forthcoming with explaining himself. He’s of the generation that feels like they don’t need to, especially not to a female. It’s follow my orders and don’t ask stupid questions, Joelle .” Joelle inhaled and let it out slowly. She wouldn’t spiral with overthinking. It wasn’t like masked rebels were about to burst through the windows. The house had been standing for over eight decades, built by her grandfather, and could withstand attacks. The house would eventually pass down to Reeves as the next male heir.

She didn’t care about the house. It was way too big. She would be content living in a three-bedroom townhouse if the opportunity arose. The thought of having a home that belonged to her was blissful.

Without breaking his eye line, she said. “I’ll make an assumption and guess his latest affair hasn’t gone away as quietly as the others usually do.”

She saw by the flare in his eyes that she was right. The ball of air in her lungs came out in a frustrated sigh.

“Did you know my parents have an open relationship? I’m unsure how well you know my family or what you were told. It’s a family tradition. How funny is that?” though she stretched her lips, she wasn’t smiling with happiness. She’d been ten when she found out, and when she’d asked her mom why, Sandrine had only said, “This is what the Snow men do.”

It wasn’t something she’d ever tolerate.

“And though my father has these discreet affairs, ask me how often my mother has done the same. The answer is zero. She loves him, you see. My grandfather and generations before him did the same, and it will be expected of Reeves.” She watched while Diamond reached for the coffee and took a long sip. “So, you might understand now why it’s difficult to follow these instructions when it’s not my doing and always because of someone else’s selfishness. Do you know the sordid details of this latest dalliance?”

It looked like she wouldn’t get answers from the tight-lipped biker, adding more frustration to her brain, but he said, “I know some. But knowing the reason isn’t important. My job is to keep you and your family safe.”

“This woman is dangerous, then?”

“You need to ask your father that.”

“But I’m asking you.” Joelle nearly lost her cool, but speaking from experience, there was little point in doing that. And she added when he remained silent. “I’d have a better outcome if I asked you to dress in my finest ball gown.”

Diamond’s lips twitched this time, and something loosened in Joelle’s tight shoulder blades.

“I get the situation is fucked up.”

“So fucked up.” She agreed.

“Why would your mom stay if she’s not taking advantage of an open marriage, too?”

“Love. Why else?” she answered. “Women do a lot of dumb stuff under the umbrella of love. Crazily, my father adores my mother. But why does he need to sleep around?” Joelle lifted her hand. “Don’t answer that. I’m oversharing again. This isn’t common knowledge, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around. This whole thing is vexing that another person’s decisions affect my life.”

His stare was penetrating. “You live under their roof, Bluebell. They pay the bills and everything else you’re accustomed to.”

Joelle’s head snapped back, almost like a physical slap.

The criticizing expression was evident on his face.

He’d formed a twisted opinion about her with no proof. He had been doing it ever since he entered the house.

He saw the mansion and everything within the walls and condemned her for being a pampered doll living off Daddy’s riches. He probably thought she didn’t have a brain rattling around in her head, too.

She unfurled herself from the couch and rose to her feet, collecting both coffee cups and traced her steps to the kitchen area. When she turned back to Diamond, he, too, was on his feet. Standing like a skyscraper in black leather and sexy boots.

“For someone who’s paid to care for others, you make a lot of snap conclusions, Diamond. You ought to be careful because you’ll say something you can’t take back one day.” She smiled tightly and walked toward the door. “I’ll see you out. And I’ll let Titan know when I’m leaving the house in the future. You won’t be contacted about me again.”

Sometimes, crushes died as fast as they appeared.

It would have been nice to have this one for a week, but oh, well. Easy come, easy go.

Diamond might have the most handsome face she’d seen in a long time, but he sure had a cold outlook on people.

She didn’t part with a pleasant greeting, as manners dictated; she waited for him to exit and then closed the door behind him.

Pressing her back against the wood, she inhaled the last remnants of his cologne. It was earthy like musk, exactly what a man should smell like.

If she were another type of woman, she’d march to her father’s downtown office and tell him to sort his shit out once and for all before they all got dragged down with him.

But that wasn’t who Joelle was.

Instead, she set up the easel in her studio, slipped a smock over her clothing to protect them, and with a few swipes of a brush, she painted a perfectly sculpted jawline, dusted in fine facial hair from memory. She used all the colors to soothe her inner turmoil.

Hours passed within a blink, and she was aching as she stepped back from the canvas.

A face stared back at her, and Joelle caught her breath to see the biker captured perfectly on white paper.

His face was an abstract of colors, but the only part she used the correct color for, was his piercing, ice-blue eyes.

The portrait stared from the easel, and Joelle stared back.

It had been months since she’d picked up a paintbrush. Her muse had dried up, and though she could paint anything from memory, Joelle hadn’t felt the urge to.

But one encounter with a critical biker caused her mind to overflow with creativity again.

Because she didn’t want him staring at her, she took the canvas down and turned it toward the wall, ignoring him.

There was a metaphor in that somewhere.