Chapter 3 – I Hope You Will Act More Mature

Milo didn’t sleep well.

Because of the so-called bloody guard Camille had signed a contract with.

The name is Nolan Ashford.

It sounded familiar, but he still couldn’t remember or pinpoint where he’d heard it, but it replayed a thousand times in his memory. Maybe someone he had seen before, or was it one of his adopted parents friends? Someone he had fired?

He tossed and turned for hours; eventually he drifted to sleep sprawled sideways across his bed with his tablet still on, displaying the file Camille had mailed to him concerning Nolan.

*****

The morning came in a haze. Milo hadn't slept for long when his phone beeped a message.

It was Camille telling him to show up at the office.

The minute he stepped into his office, Camille was already waiting; she smiled immediately when she caught sight of him.

Milo just nodded at her.

"You're early," he said, shrugging off his coat.

"You're late," she replied, holding a cup of black coffee just how he liked it. She knew he hadn't taken coffee this morning because she woke him up, telling him to show up early at the company.

He took a sip and grimaced. "You didn’t put sugar."

"Yeah, it's exactly how you said you like it."

He stared at her over the rim of the cup. "Who told you that? Are you trying to punish me for not reading the folder?"

Camille gave him a look. "I would never. But… maybe glance through it before he arrives? Just so you won't say something silly or inappropriate."

He flopped into his chair. "Silly and inappropriate is my love language."

She placed the folder on the desk with a soft thud and smiled at him before leaving the room without another word.

Milo leaned back, eyeing the folder like it was his nemesis; his fingers hovered over it. He opened the front page without paying attention and closed it, uninterested but curious.

He tapped it like he was thinking about something, then finally, with a huff, he opened it fully.

His photo was good-looking, but it was a bit blurry; his record read clean; his background wasn't mentioned, just that he worked as a bodyguard trained in different combat styles; and his remarks read efficient, and skilled.

"No social media presence," Milo said, a bit surprised by the guy's profile. “I bet he’s going to be in his mid-forties; even older guys do social media,” Milo said without realising he was smiling. He thought about annoying the hell out of the old guy till he gave up his job, and Milo would pay for compensation.

“Great,” he whispered, smiling. As those thoughts spiralled in his head, he tapped his legs, smiling, and then he flopped back in his chair, spinning slowly as he stared at the ceiling, his smile toning down.

What if I hate him? He thought again.

He wasn't the one to think things like this in these situations, but this Nolan guy made him think. What if he was the strong, silent type who never spoke unless spoken to, who liked being in charge, or who was controlling? What if he was… boring?

No. Worse, what if he was always serious?

Milo couldn’t stop thinking; there were work folders sitting on his desk waiting to be reviewed, but Milo paid no concern to them.

He groaned, rubbing his temples. "God, what if he's bald?"

After Milo might have gotten in the mood for work, the morning passed in a blur with emails, texts, and avoiding any calls that even hinted at PR.

Camille poked her head in around noon to check if he was alright.

"He's on his way up." Camille said, walking in.

Milo sat up straighter than he meant to, and then he arranged his slacks to be perfect. "Right now?"

"Yeah, right now." Camille nodded.

He looked down at himself. His shirt was perfect, and his slacks were tailored perfectly, obviously smooth from him adjusting a minute ago.

Camille raised a brow. "You nervous?"

"Me? Nervous?" He scoffed. "I don’t even get nervous when I’m being sued or when I have been threatened; how much more for a common Nolan?"

"That’s the problem."

She sighed, shaking her head, and then vanished again.

Milo stood up, then sat down again, then stood up again; he paced once, twice, to the window and back.

This was stupid; he was just looking for words to tell Nolan to make him quit, he thought, smirking.

After all, he was Milo Eves; he wasn't the type to get nervous about people meeting him. If anything, they were the ones who needed to worry.

Still… he was found fixing his collar. Checking his reflection in the darkened glass. Muttering, "Nolan Ashford. Nolan Ashford."

A knock came.

Two knocks; the person knocking should know how to knock informally because the knock sounded composed.

Milo’s sat back down on his chair, clearing his throat before muttering, “Come in.”

The door opened.

Camille stepped in, followed by a taller figure who stood behind her, his height a shock.

"Mr. Eves," she said, her voice just smooth, like she was implying something to Milo. "Your new bodyguard has arrived."

The man stepped into view.

Milo’s breath caught in his throat; Nolan was definitely his type, but unfortunately he was going to be his nanny.

He was tall, he had broad shoulders, his eyes were a blue colour, his hair was dark— just the way Milo liked them.

He was clad in black, and he still looked younger, not quite the face Milo was expecting.

His face was unreadable; he just bowed slightly, smiling. It was a stiff smile, like it was forced.

Milo gulped, nodding, then smirked at him.

Camille smiled, then walked up to Milo's desk, and then she whispered slightly, “Be composed,” and then she turned her head towards Nolan again, pretending like she said nothing to Milo.

"This is Nolan Ashford." She turned back to Milo, who stood up and walked up to Nolan.

“Then, Mr. Nolan, nice to meet you. I hope you will have fun babysitting me.” He smirked, shaking Nolan, who gripped his hand tightly.

“And I hope you will act more mature instead of behaving like a baby needing to be babysat,” Nolan smirked.