Famous, spoiled, and having the worst week of my life — because my father hired a bodyguard and the bodyguard took my phone, my heels, and my entire personality hostage.
Rafe Coulter doesn’t do paparazzi. Doesn’t do small talk.
Doesn’t do anything except drive this truck deeper into nowhere and tell me to sit down in a voice so low it does something embarrassing to my thighs.
He says I talk too much. I say he should find a more interesting way to shut me up. The look he gives me says he’s considering it.
