Thorne Princess(22)

But caving to his tyrannical ways was not an option, either. I had to get rid of him, fast.

When we got back to the house, Ransom informed me he was going out to run errands. He did so in his signature, obnoxious fashion. Flinging open my bedroom door without knocking, and giving me his wouldn’t-burn-you-with-my-last-match expression.

Despite his crudeness, I was ecstatic. Finally, I was going to have some alone time to execute my get-rid-of-Ransom plan.

“I’ll try not to miss you too much.” I jumped up from my bed, about to slam the door in his face. I was on my phone, calling people he’d canceled on that week—party promoters, PR managers, and even Keller—and apologizing for the last-minute bailout.

“Max’ll keep you company, so don’t get any ideas.” Ransom scowled.

Yes. Of course. Max. If only I had the faintest idea who the man was.

“Remind me about Max?” I twirled a lock of my burgundy hair around my finger.

“Your second close protection officer.”

“Oh, right.” I laughed airily. “Is he all sunshine like you?”

He walked away, done with the conversation. Ten minutes later, I heard the front door open. Ransom was talking to this Max guy, who arrived at four in the afternoon sharp. I loitered in my room, listening closely to their conversation in hopes to gain some intel on what was going on. It felt like my house wasn’t mine anymore, with all these strangers coming and going.

When Ransom left, I tried desperately to call my parents. They didn’t answer. When I called their secretaries, I got the same runaround—they were too busy, unable to deal with me right now.

Dejected, I dragged my feet downstairs to introduce myself to Max. No point in making two enemies under this roof.

When I got to my living room, I found a lean, jarringly young-looking man sitting on my couch, flipping through a thick fantasy book. Boyish and unassuming, Max looked like your best friend’s older brother in a ’90s chick flick. He didn’t look threatening like his boss. Better yet—he didn’t stir in me the same discomfort most men caused.

“Oh. Hi.” He stood up awkwardly as soon as I came into view. He put down the book on the couch, wiping his hands over his pants. He offered me his hand. I decided, against my usual judgment, to take it.

My shoulders loosened some. He didn’t look like a bodyguard at all. Not that Ransom did. Ransom looked like a stunning, wealthy heir who found it unbearable to share a planet with average folks.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you upstairs,” Max explained.

Now, that’s the kind of bodyguard I was down with.

“Thanks, I was just working.” The lie rolled smoothly over my tongue. “I’m Hallie.”

“Max.”

We both smiled. He looked so young, for a moment I wondered if he was my age.

“I’m twenty-five,” he said, as if reading my mind. He ducked his head, his cheeks pinking. “It’s just that everyone asks, because I look kinda young. I’m a former SEAL. You’re in good hands.”

“Oh, uhm, I wasn’t doubting your abilities.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “Are you gonna live here, too?” I blurted out, making my way to the kitchen to make both of us smoothies.

Maybe if Max and I got along well, Ransom would take the back seat and give him more shifts and I could have some of my freedom back.

He shook his head in my periphery. “Ran will be with you most of the time. I’m just going to be on standby. But I’ll be on call no matter what.”

My heart sank.

Max sat on a stool in front of me, watching as I shoved a banana, kiwi, strawberries, crushed ice, and coconut milk into my smoothie machine. I poured the finished product into tall glasses and glided one his way across the kitchen island.

He raised his glass in a toast. “Been a second since I’ve had one of these.”

“A smoothie?” I asked.

He nodded. “I used to live in Oceanside. Jamba Juice was like my second home during high school. Quit the healthy habit when I got deployed, though.”

I smiled in understanding. “I’m like that, too. I change my habits, depending on where I live. When I was in New York, I was all about the Sicilian pizza and cosmos.”

“Sicilian pizza is a sin. Pizza dough needs to be like a condom—thin, airy, without any unnecessary extras,” Max said.

“Well, sin is delicious.” I shrugged, laughing.

“So is your smoothie. Thanks for that.” Max grinned around the reusable straw I’d put in his drink.

There was a beat of silence as we both took a breath.

“You’re really different, you know,” he said finally. His smile immediately dropped.

I knew what he meant. Ransom had painted him a different picture of me. Difficult, unruly, and rude. I didn’t know how anyone could take Ransom’s word at anything. He seemed to have such a cynical, gloomy outlook on life.

“How so?” I asked gently. I didn’t want to scare Max away. He had the potential to become an ally.

He took a sip from his smoothie to buy time. I waited patiently.

“I don’t know. I just imagined…”

“Someone unbearable?” I quirked an eyebrow, propping my elbows on the surface between us.

“Pretty much.” His ears turned tomato-red.