FELL IN LOVE WITH MY HUSBAND'S BODYGUARD

The air inside the Moree estate always smelled like expensive candles—sandalwood and white oud—but to Lauren, it reeked of isolation. Every corner of the grandiose mansion gleamed, from the towering chandelier that sparkled above her to the spotless marble tiles that reflected her every step. Perfection, they called it. She called it a prison dressed in designer silk.

She adjusted the strap of her handbag and descended the sweeping staircase, her heels clicking with rhythmic grace. She was the image of elegance—hair sleek in a low chignon, lips painted a sharp wine-red, and a custom Dior suit hugging her body in all the right places. From afar, she looked like a woman who had it all.

But up close, Lauren Moree was tired.

She reached the front doors just as the butler stepped aside and pulled them open. Daylight poured in, warming the polished floors. The sleek black Mercedes waited at the circular driveway, and beside it stood a man she didn’t recognize.

He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a black suit that looked fitted rather than issued. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, jaw clean-shaven, and when he turned to face her, she paused.

He was beautiful in a way men rarely were—sharp features softened by warm, olive-toned skin, and eyes that glinted with something unreadable. Controlled. Calculated. Dangerous, perhaps.

He offered a nod. “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

Lauren blinked. “You’re not Thomas.”

“No, ma’am. I’m Louis Cruz. Mr. Moree reassigned me as your driver. I was told today is your charity gala downtown.”

Thomas had been with her for four years. Quiet, discreet, polite. Richard hadn’t mentioned a change, but that wasn’t surprising. He rarely did. He made decisions and expected everyone else to follow without question.

“Why was I not informed?” she asked, stepping closer.

Louis didn’t flinch. “I was hired last week. This is my first day driving you personally.”

She studied him for a long beat. There was no nervous twitch, no fidgeting—just a steady gaze and a stillness that didn’t feel natural. More like trained restraint. He looked like someone who could handle more than just a steering wheel.

“You’ve worked security before?” she asked.

A small smile touched his lips. “Among other things.”

Lauren narrowed her eyes slightly but said nothing. She stepped past him and slipped into the backseat of the car. The leather interior smelled like new money and professionalism. Louis closed the door behind her with quiet precision before sliding into the driver’s seat.

The engine purred to life, smooth and silent.

As the car pulled away from the estate, Lauren allowed herself to breathe. Only in these rare moments—between destinations, when no one was watching—did she ever feel like herself. Not Richard’s wife. Not the Moree heiress. Just a woman stuck in a life she hadn’t chosen.

Her phone buzzed on her lap.

Richard: Be on time. Don’t embarrass me in front of the board.

No greeting. No, good luck today. Just another demand.

Lauren stared at the screen for a moment, then locked it. She turned her head to the window and watched the estate disappear behind them.

“You alright, ma’am?” Louis asked, his voice calm, smooth like a jazz melody on a rainy night.

Lauren hesitated. “Do I look like I’m not?”

He glanced briefly at her through the rearview mirror. “You look like someone pretending.”

Her brows rose slightly.

Bold.

Employees were supposed to be silent, invisible. Especially new ones. But Louis Cruz didn’t seem the type to play by unwritten rules.

“And what makes you think you can analyze me like that?” she asked coolly.

“I don’t,” he said, eyes back on the road. “But I’ve spent enough time watching people fake peace to recognize the signs.”

Lauren crossed her legs slowly. “And what signs would those be?”

“The way your fingers tap your thigh even when the rest of you is still. The way you checked your phone and didn’t reply. The sigh you let out just before you stepped into the car.”

Her jaw clenched slightly.

He was observant. Too observant.

“You sound like a man who reads more than he should,” she said.

“I don’t read. I notice.”

Their eyes met again briefly in the mirror. Something passed between them—something unspoken and electric. She looked away first.

“How long were you in security?” she asked, curiosity bleeding into her tone.

“Six years. Private detail. Some work overseas.”

“And before that?”

He paused. “Military. Briefly. Then, Taekwondo instructor. Italy.”

Of course, she thought. That explained the disciplined posture, the way he moved like he was always aware of exits, of threats.

Lauren watched the city skyline grow larger as they approached. He drove smoothly, confidently, never once checking GPS. He knew the route.

“You don’t seem like someone who likes being told what to do,” she murmured, more to herself.

Louis’s mouth curved, just slightly. “I follow orders. I just prefer knowing why I’m following them.”

She almost smiled. Almost.

“Your husband,” he continued after a moment, “is very specific about expectations. He said to make sure you arrived looking... flawless.”

Lauren gave a humourless laugh. “Of course he did. Richard likes his trophies polished.”

Louis didn’t respond.

The silence returned, but it wasn’t the same. It was heavier now, charged with something they both noticed but pretended not to.

When they pulled up to the event venue, a valet rushed forward. Louis stepped out, rounded the car, and opened her door with that same quiet, measured grace.

Lauren stepped out, her heels hitting pavement, her presence commanding.

But before she walked away, she turned slightly. “Thank you, Louis.”

He met her gaze. “I’ll be waiting.”

It wasn’t the words—it was how he said them. Low. Certain. Like a promise or a warning.

She walked away without another glance, but her heart beat just a little faster.

She’d barely met him.

But something told her Louis Cruz wasn’t just a driver.

He was a detour.

And she wasn’t sure she’d survive the journey.