Diva (Ironclad Bodyguards Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

twenty year olds. His last girlfriend had been a high-powered lawyer in New York, a statuesque prosecutor who was strong enough to challenge him both physically and intellectually. Those were the type of women he sought when the job gave him time to pursue a social life.
    Not…this.
    Lola tripped over her luggage and let loose a string of epithets in her Memphis drawl. Fucking motherfucker goddamn cocksucker piece of shit. Was she talking about the luggage, or him?
    “Come eat something,” he said.
    She gave him a dirty look and righted the luggage. “I’m not hungry.”
    “Why’d you haul your whole suitcase into the bathroom?”
    Her dirty look grew even dirtier. “What, I’m supposed to leave it out here so you can paw through it again?”
    “I’m done pawing through it. I already got rid of the stuff you can’t have.”
    Instead of coming to the table, she collapsed face down on the bed and closed her eyes. Her hair was a tousled, wavy mess now that it wasn’t tamed into those silly dreadlocks. The sun fell across the bed, slanting over the sinfully round ass showcased by the world’s sexiest jeans.
    I want to be slanting over that ass. I want to be inside it.
    Fuck. Ransom, really. That’s enough.
    “When did you eat last?” he asked aloud.
    She didn’t open her eyes. “I don’t know. I had something before last night’s set.”
    “Come have something to eat, then.”
    “I want to sleep. Leave me alone.”
    Ransom usually tried to give women what they wanted, but in this case, he couldn’t.
    “Here’s how this is going to go,” he said in a firm, direct voice. “I have a job to do here. So when I tell you to eat, you’re going to eat, whether you feel hungry or not. When I tell you to sleep, you’re going to sleep.”
    “Are you going to tell me when to blink and breathe too?” she murmured, stretching and arching her back.
    Was she trying to seduce him? Or was she just naturally, horribly provocative? He pretended to be unaffected. “Get up and eat something. Don’t make me shove it down your throat. You only have a day or so to get yourself straightened out for the next set.”
    She turned on her back and regarded him from beneath her lashes. “Would you really shove it down my throat?”
    Jesus. Don’t think about shoving anything down her throat, cowboy. Focus.
    “Get up and eat,” he said. “When you’re done, we’ll head out for a walk.”
    Her lips twisted in disdain. “A walk?”
    “A walk. I doubt you’d survive a run, but we could try it if you’d like. Either one.”
    She glared at him like she wanted to argue, but in the end, she got up and came to the table. Sometimes you just had to remind someone they were hungry. She bent a slice of bread around some cheese and stuck it in her mouth as Ransom poured her a glass of water.
    “A walk,” she muttered. “I don’t even know where we are.”
    “Hamburg, Germany. You have a show tomorrow night. Don’t worry, I’ll get you there.”
    He pushed the plate of fruit and leftover doughnuts toward her, and checked his phone while she put away a decent amount of breakfast. Feed her. Walk her. Keep her on the leash, even if she tugs a little. Or a lot.
    “How are you feeling now?” he asked when she was done.
    “Shitty.”
    He put down his phone and regarded her. “Why do you think you feel so bad, Lola?”
    “Because you won’t let me sleep. I’m tired. My performances take a lot of energy.”
    He couldn’t muffle the snort that escaped. “What? Pushing buttons exhausts you that much? Those dials must be hell to twist.”
    “Playing rave sets is more than pushing buttons and twisting dials, you idiot. It’s way more difficult than that. You have to engage the crowd. You have to help them escape to this otherworld so they feel the magic. You have to create satisfying run-ups and drops. It looks fun and careless, but it’s very complicated.”
    There. There was a spark of real emotion beneath her bitchy veneer.