Although Royce didn’t particularly like what he was hearing, he had no objection to Shara speaking her mind. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was someone saying one thing to his face and then saying—or doing—the exact opposite behind his back.
‘Well, your father disagrees,’ Royce said calmly.
‘I—’
Royce cut her off. ‘You’re wasting your breath. Gerard warned me that this would be your attitude and he said to tell you that while you’re living under his roof you’ll follow his rules.’
Her humiliation was complete.
Shara stared at the tips of her red-varnished toenails as if her life depended upon it. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes but she blinked them away.
She had no intention of bursting into tears. That would only add to her humiliation.
Right now all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.
It was a feeling she knew all too well. But she fought against it. If there was one thing the last twelve months had taught her it was not to give in to feelings of helplessness. She had to be strong and stand up for herself.
It didn’t matter how many times she got knocked down. She had to pick herself up, brush herself off, and try again.
So she straightened her shoulders, dragged in a breath, and instead of avoiding eye contact lifted her head and deliberately looked Just Plain Royce directly in the eye.
His face was expressionless. She had no idea what he was thinking and frankly she didn’t care.
She waved a hand through the air. ‘Well, Mr Just Plain Royce, I’m out of here.’
He folded his arms across his impressive chest. ‘And where, pray tell, are you planning on going?’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘That is none of your business!’
‘Correction. As I said, where you go and what you do is my business.’ His tone was determined. ‘My job is to protect you. It will help if I know where you’re going at all times.’
Her already straight shoulders straightened some more. ‘My father may have hired you, but I have no desire for a bodyguard. You can do what the hell you like, but don’t expect any help from me!’
A look that was part resignation, part irritation flashed across his face before his expression hardened. ‘Be warned. I intend doing my job, with or without your co-operation. It will be easier on both of us if you work with me, but it’s not entirely necessary. If you want to act like a rebellious teenager then go right ahead. I won’t stop you.’
Shara would have laughed except it wasn’t really funny. She’d been a well-behaved, follow-the-rules, obedient teenager. A real goody-two-shoes, in fact.
Twelve months of marriage to Steve Brady had shown her that being meek and biddable had its drawbacks—big-time!
She’d emerged from the dark tunnel of that period a very different person from the one who’d entered it.
She crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow. ‘If you’re trying reverse psychology on me then it won’t work. I’m a grown adult, able to decide when and where I go without reporting in to somebody else.’
His dark eyes glinted. ‘Are you? An adult, that is? If so, then prove it.’
She frowned. ‘And how am I supposed to do that?’
‘Don’t go back to the club.’
Shara raised an eyebrow. ‘And what will that prove?’
‘It will prove you’re adult enough to put your safety ahead of having a good time,’ Royce said calmly.
The word ‘adult’ rankled. She wasn’t a child. Her marriage had made her grow up—fast.
She knew what she was doing; she was making a stand.
She was sick and tired of the men in her life—first her father and then her husband—telling her what to do.
She didn’t need to add a bossy bodyguard to the list.
If she slunk off to her room with her tail between her legs then wasn’t she just handing over her power to Royce?
Well, she’d been there, done that, and she’d suffered because of it.
She could, and she would, make her own decisions.
Mr Just Plain Royce had better start getting used to it.
And why was she calling him that anyway?
Plain was ordinary. Easily overlooked. Royce was neither of those things. In fact just the opposite.
‘I don’t have to prove anything to you,’ she said, clasping her hands together in front of her. ‘I’m twenty-three years old. I am an adult. And if you think insulting me will force me to co-operate then you’re sorely mistaken.’
He held up his hands, a small smile twisting his mouth.
‘That accusation is well and truly misdirected, I can assure you. That kind of strategy would never work with you. I know that.’
She raised a brow. ‘And how do you know that?’
Royce shrugged. ‘Because I’ve seen you in action. First at the club and then again here.’
She gave him a puzzled frown. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that using reverse psychology on you would have the reverse effect.’ He waved a hand, with a glint in his eyes that made her want to hit him. ‘You’re determined not to co-operate no matter what. It doesn’t matter what I say or do, you’re going to do your own thing and to hell with everyone else. If I push all it will do is make you dig your heels in even more.’
Shara gnashed her teeth.
She had a sneaking suspicion that Royce was right—although it would take someone pulling out her fingernails before she’d admit it.
‘You haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about,’ she flung at him. At that moment the old grandfather clock in the entrance hall struck the hour. Shara glanced at her watch. ‘Well, it looks like you’re going to get your way. I’m not going back to the club. Not because you say I shouldn’t, but because it’s late and I’m tired. Goodnight.’
Without another word she spun on her heel to leave the room, but his next words stopped her. ‘Before you go perhaps you’d like to tell me which bedroom is yours.’
Slowly she turned back to face him. Her heart was beating with slow, heavy thumps. ‘Why on earth do you want to know that?’
‘Because I’ll be taking up residence in the room next to yours, of course.’
A hand made its way to the base of her throat, where she could feel the beat of her pulse under her skin. For a moment she’d thought …
Well, she wasn’t sure exactly what she’d thought.
But whatever it was it had made her go hot all over.
Her hands slammed down on her hips. ‘You most certainly will not!’
Royce gestured to the corner of the room. A large black suitcase she hadn’t noticed before was sitting there. ‘I most certainly will.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’ll be living here for the duration. I—’
‘Living here …? You can’t do that!’
‘Why not?’
‘Well,