When my business partner asked me to do him a favor, I had no idea he was sending me on the blind date his mother had arranged for him.
I walked in the bar, saw the woman drinking her third martini, and knew I was in for an eventful night.
After the unexpected second date, she didn’t know my real name or who I really was. By that time, the lie was too far gone, and I wanted her too much to admit the truth.
It’s not every day you find out your ex-boyfriend is engaged.
I shouldn’t have agreed to the blind date, but I wasn"t in any position to turn down a night out when my mother insisted.
I will admit, I definitely shouldn’t have ordered that fourth martini before said blind date even arrived.
The man turned out to be swoon worthy, handsome, condescending" a perfect distraction.
Then I found out he was a liar.
I’ve never been in over my head to this degree.
Then again, I’ve never been mixed up in love.Books by Author:Natasha Madison Books
Beep, beep. The car alerts me that I just locked the doors as I climb up the five stairs to our office, WatchOver Me Security. For almost six years now, Anthony and I have been business partners, but instead of renting office space, we decided it would be better to have our own house.
Entering the code on the lock, I open the door, noting the heat in the air. We have turned this three-bedroom house into our own office that fits our needs. Anthony and I each have our own office, and the third bedroom is shared with our crew"Dominic, Brian, and Dante.
Walking in, I"m not surprised to see Rachel, our office manager, already here. Rachel has been here from the beginning with Anthony and me. Besides being the receptionist, she is the planner and also the best tech person I"ve ever met, which means I can"t fire her.
"Morning," she says. Her shoulder-length blond hair curled to perfection, her black rimmed glasses hiding her crystal blue eyes, she"s standing there in a tight black pencil skirt that hits just past the knees and a white button-down silk shirt tucked in. Although we don"t have a uniform, we usually wear black and white. Her pink stilettos give the only pop of color on her outfit. "I just put the coffeepot on," she tells me, walking toward the door, heading to the basement.
The basement is really her domain or, as she calls it, her playground. Little computer screens fill all four walls, displaying every single traffic camera we have access to"not that the city knows. Another reason I can"t fire her.
I walk to my office and dump my keys and wallet, then shrug my suit jacket off and roll up my sleeves. Grabbing a water bottle, I head down to the basement. The lights are on, and Rachel sits in the middle of the room with her earpiece in. Her desk is U-shaped with four computer screens sitting on it. "Anthony is on his way," she tells me as she types away. You can never sneak up on her. I"m convinced she has this whole place wired and booby-trapped. "All assignments are accounted for." She looks up. "I need your expense report, or I may have to shoot your accountant if she calls me one more time." She smiles, and I"m not so sure she"s joking.
"Hey," Anthony says, walking into the room. His huge six-foot-five frame is enough to scare anyone; that and he wears his black hair in a Mohawk of sorts. He, too, is wearing black pants and a white button-down shirt. "I brought some doughnuts," he says, grabbing a chair and sitting on one side of the desk. "I think I"m dehydrated," he says, finishing a bottle of water in a matter of seconds.
Anthony and I go way, way back"to Navy training. Of course, back then, he was a six-foot-five, one-hundred-and-fifty-pound body in a little boy. It"s crazy what deployment can do for you. He hit the weights hard, and his frame filled out dramatically. We did two tours together, but after seeing so much death and escaping it many times, we knew we were done. Luckily, we got the best recommendation from our drill sergeant, and we were thrown into government detailing. Slowly but surely, we started building clientele. One politician visiting for the weekend turned into his friend giving us a call, which led to some of Hollywood"s biggest names. WatchOver Me was born, and we haven"t looked back once.
"You are probably dehydrated because you were up all night spilling your bodily fluid elsewhere," Rachel says, looking up with a smirk as Anthony glares at her.
"Are you keeping track of me"" he says, leaning back in his chair. "Do you have a tracker on my phone"" He now sits up and grabs his phone.
Rachel breathes out while Anthony types on his phone. "Your Fitbit is synced on my computer. You really need to slow down on round three and four." She taps her finger on her desk.
"Privacy." Anthony points at her. "Confidential."
Rachel doesn"t answer. She just rolls her eyes. "One of these days, your dick is going to fall off." He gasps in fear when she says that, cupping himself. "And Tinder is going to crash!"
He slaps his hand down on the table. "Don"t you fuck with my Tinder app again."
"Again"" I ask, grabbing my own chair and sitting down. "Should I even ask""
"No!" Anthony yells, looking at her.
"What" She was cute," Rachel counters.
"She was a fucking dude." He raises his voice and then looks at me. "We didn"t do anything."
"That isn"t what her," she says, shaking her head, "sorry, his messages said the next day."
"I"m changing all my passwords." He grabs his doughnut and takes a bite while Rachel laughs.
"Is this where the party is at"" Dominic asks when he walks in. He"s the oldest of the bunch in his late thirties. Dominic has been with us for a little over three years. We needed extra men when the Secret Service contacted us about the president staying down here for a week. He stands six-foot-six and is lean, so lean his body fat is probably zero. His black hair is buzzed on the sides and longer on top, but he styles it to the side.