Page 16 of Lovers Like Us

An entitledprick.

All of the above?Probably.

Thatcher tells me, “I’ll let the whole teamknow.”

I nod and try to loosen my shoulders. Just to appear somewhat lessdomineering.

Boundaries here are blurrier than usual, and I don’t want to be just the client in their eyes. But two milliseconds ago, I made a declaration that sounded more like a dickish celebrity requesting a special menu than a regular guy asking to be treatedfairly.

I try to figure out a better plan of action. One that doesn’t include me leaving this damn study. Retreating—that’s not anoption.

Suddenly, Farrow stands. Nearing me, but he speaks to Thatcher. “Did you put me on temporary probation from securitymeetings?”

“No.”

“Then why the hell didn’t I hear about the one where Omega discussed the tour?” Farrow stops beside me and offers me his bowl ofeggs.

I shake my head. “I’mgood.”

He only peels his eyes off of me when Thatcherresponds.

“You were in the bedroom with Maximoff.” He ends there. Like that explainseverything.

Farrow glares atThatcher.

Thatcher glares back, not relenting. This is the equivalent of a silent pissingmatch.

I gesture to the co-lead of Omega. “Is knocking not in the bodyguardhandbook?”

Neither of themmoves.

Oscar unwraps a Honey Bun. “You’re still a client who prefersprivacy.”

“And you were with your boyfriend, Mof—Maximoff.Fuck,” Donnellymutters.

They left Farrow in the dark because of me.That’s not fucking happening again.“Thatcher,” I say, and he breaks the glare to acknowledge me. “Farrow’s job comesfirst.”

“His job isyou,” Thatcher emphasizes. “This iscomplicated—”

“Then let’s un-complicate it,” I say simply. “Anything related to security, you can disrupt me and get him. I’d prefer it. And if there’s any other confusion, justask.”

I swear I hear Farrow mutter an impressed, “Damn,” beneath hisbreath.

The whole talk screeches to a halt as the door creaks. Jane and Beckett slip inside. Carrying trays of coffee for everyone. Jane hands me a mug of hot tea, and we all scatter around thestudy.

Farrow and I are the only two standing. While he leans on a bookshelf—absentmindedly fiddling with a handheld wooden puzzle that he’s already solved twice—I grip my mug of tea. And listen to the conversation veer off into FanCon territory.Logistics.

How the fuck it’ll allwork.

Thatcher motions to Jane on a rocking chair and to Beckett on the couch beside Donnelly, and he says, “If you have any acquaintances or friends or…” Thatcher pauses for theword.

“NSA,” Oscarclarifies.

“What?” Beckett looks to Donnelly, his 24/7bodyguard.

“No strings attached,” I tell mycousin.

“A fuck buddy,” Donnellyexplains.