When I woke up the next day, Jordan was already gone. There was a note on my bedside that said:
**
I'm sorry I had to leave early. I'll see you at the launch party. I've asked Leonard to drive you and Jo there.
Can't wait to see you tonight.
P.S. Don't be mad at Lorenzo. He's only doing his job.
I'll check in later.
— J
**
Lorenzo, I presumed, was the bodyguard appointed to safeguard me from all possible threats.
And I was right.
When I went downstairs I saw a tall man, almost 6'2" dressed in an all-black suit and a black tie hanging down his neck, manning the elevator doors. He had a handsome face, a muscular build, and a gorgeous caramel skin tone.
But why would I be mad at Lorenzo? If I had to be mad at anyone it would be Jordan.
No scratch that. It would be Max. And I was mad at him. Actually, mad didn't even begin to cover what I was at him.
