Chapter 4

chapter

four

Hayes

Me! I want you.

That's what I want to say. But I know I can't so I try to deflect. "Where is this even coming from? I don't understand."

She shakes her head and stares down at her half-eaten plate of food. "Nothing. Just forget it. I think I've been on the road too long. I'm ready for a break."

I wish I could forget it, but the longer we sit here and she nibbles on her food, the more uneasy I get. After a performance like tonight, she's usually starving, but instead she's barely eating. Plus, it's some of her favorite foods. I'm not falling for this bullshit.

I put my almost empty plate on the coffee table and turn so I'm facing her. "Talk to me, Melody. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Her eyes jerk to mine. "You think I'm pretty?"

It's my turn to be shocked. "Do I think you're pretty? You're gorgeous. A fuckin' goddess, Mel! You have to know that."

Her eyes light up, but there's doubt warring on her face. "I don't need your pity, Hayes. You don't have to placate me or pump up my ego. I'm being ridiculous. Overly melancholy or something. Forget it, okay?"

I move closer to her, but there's still half a cushion between us because I don't trust myself to get any closer. I don't want to tell her this, but I know I need to. I had no idea that me scrubbing her social media would affect her like this. "There's something I need to tell you, and you're not going to like it."

She puts her plate on the table and then turns facing me, drawing her leg up on the cushion between us. Her shorts are short anyway, but the way she's sitting shows off even more of her thighs. I bring my eyes up and try to focus on her face, but that's still distracting. I wasn't lying when I said she was a goddess. I jam my hand through my hair. "Fuck, I don't know how to say this."

She tenses and crosses her arms over her chest. "You really are fucking Samantha?"

"What? Fuck, no. There's nothing going on with me and Samantha. Other than work."

The way she's looking at me has me completely on edge. I don't usually allow myself to really look at her unless she's on stage and there's thousands of people around and her focus is not on me. Being this close, it's hard to hide how I really feel about her.

She tilts her head to the side and examines me. "You're quitting?"

My jaw practically snaps. "Quitting? Try and fuckin' fire me, Mel. You can't get rid of me. Ever."

Her eyebrows raise so high it's obvious she's shocked. "Okay, so what is it?"

"Promise you won't be mad."

She blurts out a laugh and smiles for the first time tonight. "Really? What are we, in middle school? Just tell me. Trust me, everything I'm thinking is way worse than what it probably is."

I blow out a breath and start to explain it to her. "So… as your bodyguard, I try to protect you…"

When I stop, she nods her head. "Yeah, and you do a good job at it."

I wince because I know after she hears what I have to say, she's not going to feel the same. "Right, well, protecting you also includes protecting you online and on social media."

Her brows knit together in confusion. "What does that mean exactly?"

I clear my throat and lean forward a little. "So… when you receive messages that are inappropriate, I delete them. And when people comment with inappropriate things, I delete them. When people post and tag you about things, I hack into their systems and delete the post." Shit, I might as well get it all out there. "If they're relentless, then I delete their whole accounts."

I hold my breath and watch as she processes the information. She swipes her tongue along her lower lip and points at her phone on the table. "I've never seen any posts… or messages."

I jut my chin. "Well, then I'm doing my job."

"Show me."

I grip my phone tighter. "Show you? You don't need to see this, Mel."

She holds her hand out. "Show me."

Damn. I scoot closer to her and hold my phone out to show her. I turn the phone real quick and ask. "Are you sure you want to see this? Some of it is pretty bad."

"Yes. I want to see it."

I reluctantly open the social media app and click on the last image that was posted from tonight's show on Velvet Vibe's page.

It's an image of Melody with her arm raised up over head, and she's dancing with complete abandon. I click on the button to see the comments, and I stare at the screen as rage wars inside me.

Comment after comment.

Just give me five minutes with Melody and I'd ruin her for other men.

Melody is like a wet dream come to life.

Can you imagine having those thick thighs wrapped around your head?

Beautiful dress, Melody. It would look even better on my bedroom floor.

Melody takes my phone and keeps scrolling. I'm sure there are a lot of them because I was slow to delete tonight because I'd been worried about her.

Her face shows no emotion as she holds the phone up. "Show me the DMs."

I shake my head. "You don't need to see those."

"Hayes!"

I take the phone, open the direct messages, and blanche as I read the first one. "Melody, please, you don't need to see?—"

She cuts me off with a stern voice. "Show me."

I hand her the phone back, and she continues to read through the messages. Her brows disappear under her bangs, her cheeks flush red, and her eyes are so wide that I can only imagine what she's reading right now. She points at the phone. "What does this even mean?"

She shows me the message, and even though I want to rip the phone from her hands, I don't. "Melody…"

She stops me. "No, explain that to me."

I reluctantly read the DM. "Are you a top, Melody? You seem like you'd be one. I'd happily be your bottom."

Melody lifts her shoulders. "What does that even mean? What's a top? What's a bottom?"

I rub my hand across my face. I'm exhausted, and I have a long night ahead of me it seems with all these fucking comments, but she's not going to leave this alone. "A top means the person likes to be in charge during sex. A bottom is more submissive."

She snorts. "Well, shows what he knows because I am definitely a bottom. I like a man to take charge."

My mouth falls open. I can't be having these conversations with her and how the hell am I going to keep up this fuckin' charade after what she just confessed? I clear my throat and start to talk. "Can I have my phone back now?"

She holds on to it. "Why?"

"Why do I want my phone back? So I can do my job."

She laughs bitterly. "Deleting things from my social media is not part of your job. I mean, yeah, if they were threatening me or something, I could see it. But that was all harmless flirting."

My voice is hard as steel. "They shouldn't talk to you like that."

"You can't delete my direct messages, Hayes."

I know I'm being an ass, but I'm not going to budge on this. "I can if I feel like they're disrespecting you. I won't stand by and let men talk to you like that."

She looks almost bewildered. "But that's not part of your job."

I grit my teeth. "I'm making it part of my job."

"But why?"

I almost tell her exactly why. I want to scream that she's mine, but I catch myself before I lose it. "Because."

She laughs. "That's not a reason. Why do you care, Hayes? None of this makes sense. You're almost acting like a jealous boyfriend instead of my bodyguard." She looks me straight in the face, searching my eyes. "But that's not it. You don't think about me like that… so why?—"

I've had enough. My heart is racing as I make the confession. "I do think about you like that… I think about you all the fucking time. When I'm with you, I don't trust myself to look at you because you'll know exactly how I feel about you, and when you're on that stage, it kills me to see all those men thinking they could possibly touch you, kiss you, be with you like that."

I inhale a few breaths and nod. "You're right; patrolling your social media and DM's is not part of my job, but I can't fucking stand it, Melody. I can't handle the way they talk about you. And yeah, I'm jealous. Fuck yeah, I am."

She gasps and puts a hand over her heart. "Wait… are you saying… you, uh, m-m-m-ean?—"

I scoot over toward her and put my hands on her arms. "It's okay, take your time."

She looks at me with wonder on her face, but she doesn't try to talk again. I know she's self-conscious about the stutter when it happens, but she shouldn't be with me.

"I think you're the sexiest woman I've ever seen. I want you, Mel. I've wanted you since the day I was hired to protect you."

She shocks me when she says, "I want you too."