On Her Guard (Protecting Her Series Book 1) by Skyla Madi

Author:Skyla Madi [Madi, Skyla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crave Publishing
Published: 2017-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Ben

She’s a piece of work, this girl, but fucking hell, is she beautiful. I stand beside James as Sera climbs out of the car with all the grace in the world. You can’t tell she’s drank more than she probably should have. You can’t tell she spent a good chunk of her night grinding her perfect ass against a stranger. You definitely can’t tell she just had the life kissed out of her, not unless you count the small smear of red lipstick to the right of her lips.

“Enjoy the rest of your night, Miss Sera.” He looks at me. “Ben.”

She smiles sweetly at James. Why can’t I get one of those smiles? All I get are sneers and glares.

“Goodnight, James.” Sera and I speak in unison and her husky tone meshes wonderfully with mine, but I knew that already.

“If you need to go anywhere now until tomorrow morning, I’m sure Ben will take you.”

Fat chance. I’m tired. There’s only one place Sera is going and that’s bed.

She marches in front of me and storms the front steps of her house. Inside, all of the lights are still on. I glance at my watch. Midnight. When do these people sleep?

I follow Sera through the house and into the kitchen where her father waits, cutting into a loaf of bread with a knife much too big for the job. His stare flicks over Sera as she dumps her handbag on the counter with a heavy exhale, and opens the ridiculously large fridge for a bottle of orange juice.

“Want a glass, Ben?”

I approach the counter. “Sure.”

“Dad?”

Marco shakes his head. “Your dress is torn at the hem.”

Sera plays dumb and she does it well. Maybe the girl isn’t such a bad actress. “Hm?”

“Your dress.” He points to her thigh. “It’s torn.”

She shrugs her slender shoulders, dipping low into a cupboard for some glass cups. “I danced. Must’ve happened then.”

“What kind of dancing?”

Snorting, Sera tucks hair behind her ear and pours O.J. into the cups. “Normal dancing.”

Marco watches her closely as he continues to cut bread with his large knife, wearing a black polo that makes the crumbs on it stand out, like dandruff.

She returns the orange juice to the fridge, grabs her handbag, her cup, and waves her father off before retiring for the night. When she’s out of sight, Marco turns his black, soulless stare on me.

“I’m impressed you brought her back before curfew—without her annoying friends too.”

I shrug. “I’m sure she’s not happy about it.”

“Doesn’t matter. Vegas is no place for a girl after midnight.” He pinches a large crumb of bread and puts it between his lips. “You got kids?”

I grimace. Is he asking because I look old enough to have children? Perhaps to him, I look old enough to have children around Sera’s age. The thought turns my stomach and I shake my head as I grab my glass of orange juice.

“Why give her a two a.m. curfew if you don’t want her out so late?” I ask, eager to change the conversation.

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