A Bodyguard For The Misogynist
But before a single word could leave my lips, she turned her face away from me and looked at Zyane instead—expectant, dismissive, as if my voice didn’t matter enough to hear.
I scoffed internally.
“She’s my bodyguard,” he said.
He didn’t look at me.
Not even once.
“Oh,” she said slowly, her expression twisting with open disgust. “Bodyguard.”
She let the word linger like it tasted bitter.
“Then you should see yourself outside,” she added mockingly, eyes flicking back to me. “Not like I’m going to kidnap my best friend or something.”
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And something inside me hardened.