“Dr.—sorry. Mads. I'm fine with all of that, but the subway is nonnegotiable. Not unless you let me put a body on you.”
Sir, you can put your body on me anytime.
Thankfully, I’m mature enough to stop my mouth from saying that out loud. Also, this is a serious conversation, so…refocusing. “Fine. How do you plan on stopping the stalker? I would like to go back to my normal life at some point.”
He releases a big breath, his shoulders returning to their normal state. Like maybe he’s personally relieved that I’ve caved.
Aww, sweet Anthony cares.
I snort into my fist—yes, laughing at my own joke—then meet his glare and clear my throat, awkwardly putting my hands on my hips to convey some sort of…bossitude, maybe?
You’re a fucking billionaire, Mads. Don’t be so embarrassing.
He rolls his eyes and holds up his phone to show me he’s taking notes. “Do you have any identifying information on him we could chase down? A name? A badge? A preferred brand of clothing you’ve noticed?”
I shake my head. “He always wears the same navy blazer over blue jeans and some type of boot. Short, white hair. But I don't know anything else. I'm sure if I go to my coffee place tomorrow, he'll probably be there.”
“No,” Anthony says, looking at me like I'm insane. “We will not be using the billionaire as bait.”
“Oh c’mon. Put me in, Coach. I promise you I’m a master baiter. Truly.”
I laugh at my own joke—yes, again—but he’s not amused.
Here’s hoping he can’t make out my half-chub from where he’s standing.
Also, I clearly need to get laid if I’m getting turned on by fighting with a guy who looks like an overgrown angry Ken doll.
Oh. My. God.
We could be Billionaire Barbie and Security Ken.
Honestly, it’s got a ring to it.
“Mads. Pay. Attention.”
“Oh, sorry. What? I lost interest after you didn’t laugh at my masturbation joke.”
He pinches his nose. “Mads. What the hell is wrong with you? How the hell do you not know who you are?”
God, I really want to find out if he’s ticklish. Like, my fingers are itching to slide under his nice coat, delve into his warmth, and softly stroke my fingers across his shirt fabric. Mm, the ASMR on that would be fantastic.
“Dr.—Mads.”
I snap my attention back to the present, then stand back and examine the man before me. He’s obviously hot as fuck, with all those deliciously restrained muscles, but okay, he’s taking this personally.
The business gurus like to say you're not supposed to take things personally, but I’ve never believed that. I’m picking up that, in his soul, Anthony wants the people under his care to be safe. I suppose I can acknowledge that his proposed version of protection is already very different from anything else I’ve experienced.
“I'm just a person, Anthony. That's all I am. People acting like I'm special is the whole problem with the distribution of wealth in this country, and let me tell you—”
He holds up his hand, cutting short my lecture. “If I wanted a civics lesson, I would ask you. I am aware of the financial disparities in this country. What you don't seem to realize is how that impacts your safety. All it takes is one person on the subway to recognize you. Don't you understand what that means?”
“When was the last time you rode the subway, Anthony?”
“Well, because I protect wealthy people, I haven't ridden the subway in a long time. Most of the people I work with are actually concerned about their fucking safety.”