Married to my bodyguard

Chapter 1 – The Ambush I always hated the stretch of highway that curved along the cliffs outside the city. It looked beautiful in daylight—silver guardrails, the ocean flashing below—but at midnight, it turned into a ribbon of darkness. Tonight, I was the only car on it, and even the stars felt like they were holding their breath. “Another glamorous night, Miss Blake,” my driver joked as he merged onto the coastal road. “The charity gala was a hit.” I smiled faintly, kicking off my heels. “If by hit you mean five hours of pretending to enjoy lukewarm champagne and hearing people call me my father’s ‘little princess,’ then yes, it was fantastic.” He laughed. “You raised a lot for the orphanage, though. That counts for something.” “It does,” I admitted, leaning my head against the cool window. The sea was just a smear of ink on my right. I wanted my bed, my cat, silence. No more reporters asking about Blake Industries. No more men trying to flirt their way into a business deal.

I woke up to the smell of coffee and wet wood. For a moment, I had no idea where I was. The ceiling above me was wooden, not plaster, and a fire crackled somewhere close. My head throbbed, and every bone in my body felt like I’d gone twelve rounds with a truck—which, technically, I had. Then it came rushing back: the crash, the gunfire, the man on the motorcycle. Cole. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” a low voice said. I turned my head too fast and winced. Cole was by the fireplace, crouched over a dented kettle. His hair was damp and messy, his black shirt clinging to his shoulders. He looked annoyingly composed for someone who’d jumped off a bridge with me last night. “Where are we?” I asked, my voice raspier than usual. “Old hunting cabin. Been empty for years. We’ll stay until it’s safe to move.” I pushed myself upright on the narrow couch. “How long was I out?” “About five hours. You’ve got a mild concussion, nothing worse.” He poured coffee into a chipped mug a

By the time I was discharged, I was sure I’d aged a decade. My father’s assistant had dropped off a change of clothes—black leggings, a loose sweater, and flats that probably cost more than most cars. Cole stood by the door the entire time, a silent shadow while I tried to remember what privacy felt like. “Ready?” he asked when the nurse finally removed my IV. “No,” I said flatly. “But I don’t think that’s an option, is it?” He held the door open anyway. “Not really.” Outside, a sleek black SUV waited at the curb, tinted windows and all. Of course it was black. Everything my father owned was black—his cars, his credit cards, probably his soul. Cole opened the back door for me, but I slid into the front passenger seat instead. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. The drive was quiet at first. The city blurred past the windows in streaks of gray and glass. I caught glimpses of normal people—someone laughing on the phone, a couple sharing fries, a dog poking its head ou

“Move, Ariana!” Cole’s voice snapped through the air like a gunshot. For a split second, I couldn’t move. My body just refused. The lights outside the windows flickered, flashing across the marble floor like strobes at a nightclub. Then—pop. Pop. Two quick, muffled bursts. Not fireworks. Gunshots. Reality slammed back in. Cole was already at my side, hand on my arm, dragging me down the hall. “Basement. Now.” “What—how are they inside?” I gasped. “They breached the gate. Security’s down.” I stumbled after him, heart hammering so fast it hurt. “Down? How can the security be down? This place is a fortress!” “Someone on the inside,” he muttered. “No time. Keep low.” We reached the grand staircase just as a pane of glass shattered somewhere behind us. The sound was sharp, too close. “Cole—” “Stay behind me.” He raised his gun and pressed his back to the wall, scanning the corner before signaling for me to follow. His movements were fast but precise—every motion calc

I didn’t remember much of the drive. Just flashes—the screech of tires, headlights cutting through the dark, and Cole’s jaw set tight as stone. We sped away from the mansion while everything I’d ever known shrank in the rearview mirror. My home. My father. My entire life. And I couldn’t stop shaking. Cole hadn’t said a word since we’d left. Not when I asked where we were going, not when I demanded to know what he saw on those cameras. He just kept driving, eyes fixed on the road like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Finally, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. “You can’t just kidnap me, Cole.” My voice cracked halfway through the sentence. “You’re supposed to be my bodyguard, not my warden.” He didn’t even glance at me. “I’m doing my job.” “Your job is to protect me, not drag me into God-knows-where!” He exhaled through his nose, that controlled kind of frustration that somehow made me angrier. “You want to go back? Be my guest. The men who killed your guards