Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
We grab some coffee and make ourselves comfortable and an hour later the umpire throws the ball in the air and the game begins.
The loud echo of horses’ hoofs and people yelling. Adrenaline screaming through the air.
Beautiful women are in fold-up chairs along the sidelines. While cars of men line the parking lot to watch over their bosses, we’re all here for the same reason.
The Kingsmen, the Monte Carlo polo team, are some of the wealthiest men in the world. And we…we are the bodyguards that keep them safe, and although it’s the best job in the world, it’s not without its challenges.
“Yah,” he calls to his horse as he bumps full speed into another player, nearly knocking him from his horse.
“Fuck you, Prescott,” the man yells.
“Your wife already did that.” Edward smiles as he flicks the peak of his helmet. “Elizabeth loved every inch of it.” He grabs his crotch. “I can still hear her moans.”
The other man’s face falls. “You’re fucking dead,” he cries after him.
Prescott laughs as he sprints off, polo mallet in the air. The more he pisses them off, the more fun he and his team have.
Everything’s a game to them.
“Jesus Christ.” Andre drags his hand down his face. “How do you keep that prick alive?”
“It’s not easy.” I shake my head.
Those challenges I was talking about are greatly enhanced for us, you see, we’re the security team for Edward Prescott.
Undoubtedly one of the most hated men on earth.
The ladies love him, the men hate him, and he…well, he doesn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone.
Bang.
He hits another player off their horse and they go flying to the ground with a hard thump.
“Argh,” the player cries.
Prescott laughs as he looks down at him, mallet over his shoulder. “Learn how to ride a horse, you fucking gimp.”
“I think my arm is broken.” The man groans.
Prescott canters off without a care and we all chuckle from the sidelines.
This motherfucker has a death wish.
The elevator rises and we all stand facing the doors. Edward has a business meeting at the Monaco Council, his lawyer is with us, which can only mean one thing.
This isn’t going to end well.
“Remember to let me do the talking,” Louis says.
Edward clenches his jaw as he adjusts his cufflinks. “Remember who you fucking work for.”
Merrick and I make eye contact. Here we go.
“I just know that you….” Louis cuts his sentence short.
“You know what?” Edward snaps.
“You have a way of infuriating people.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “There’s no denying that you do.” He widens his eyes. “I’m just saying that this is….”
“Stop fucking stopping mid-sentence,” Edward barks. “Do you know how annoying it is?”
“This is an important meeting and I need you not to piss anyone off today,” he blurts out in a rush.
Edward rolls his eyes. “Just you concentrate on your job and let me handle mine.”
“I am.”
“Then secure the extra hours for the casino,” he barks. “Why else would I be here with you wasting my fucking time?”
“I need to remind you that your only job here today is to mend fences, put the past in the past. Be charming and friendly,” he continues.
Edward gives him the side eye. “Do you know how fucking annoying you are?”
“At times, but….” He exhales. “Just try it for once.”
Edward straightens his tie and cracks his neck. “Just going to this imbecile’s office winds me up.”
“We can’t get this deal through without him.” He plasters a big fake smile on his face. “Like this.”
Edward looks over at him deadpan.
“Try it.”
“Fuck. Off.”
I drop my head to hide my smile. I’m with Edward on this one, his lawyer really is very annoying.
The elevator doors open and Edward strides out as Louis scurries to walk beside him.
“Bonjour.” Louis smiles to the receptionist. “We have a meeting with Pascal Deschanel. I’m Louis Richards and this is Edward Prescott.”
“Yes, sir.” She smiles. “Nice to meet you both, this way to the conference room.” She leads us up a long corridor and into an office with a large round table.
Merrick and I fall in to stand beside the door. “Please, take a seat.” She pours two glasses of iced water from a carafe that sits on the table. “Mr. Deschanel is just finishing up his last meeting; he won’t be long.”
“He has five minutes.” Edward looks at his watch.
“Will you relax,” Louis replies softly.
“This is me relaxing,” he snaps. He glances at his watch again. “Four minutes.”
“My apologies, Mr. Prescott,” she stammers as she closes the door behind her and scurries up the corridor.
“My god.” Louis pinches the bridge of his nose. “Remind me why you’re here again.”
“Because Deschanel wouldn’t have this meeting without me being present.” Edward rolls his lips. “He wants me to suck up to him.”
“Which you are going to oblige.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” He glances at his watch. “Three minutes.”