The CEO's BodyGuard

Chapter 2: Shadow StepsSebastian left the office at 8:47 p.m., later than planned. Every line of code he had written that day now felt like a potential trapdoor. The photo the one that should have been impossible played on repeat in his mind, every detail burned into his memory: the angle, the darkness, the way the faint light from his bedside lamp had caught the sheen of sweat on his skin. He scanned the lobby once, twice. No one lingered. Just the night guard, stoic, barely raising an eyebrow as Sebastian passed. The elevator doors slid open. Empty. Polished steel walls reflected them both: Sebastian sharp in black, Kane a dark monolith.Kane waited, arms crossed, jacket open just enough to show the faint outline of a shoulder holster. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was a warning. Sebastian’s heels clicked against the marble floor as he approached, and Kane pushed the call button with a calm, deliberate motion, eyes never leaving him.The elevator doors slid

Chapter 4: Crowded ShadowsThe executive floor buzzed with mid-morning energy assistants darting between glass-walled offices, phones ringing in muted symphonies, the faint scent of expensive cologne and fresh coffee hanging in the air. Sebastian moved through it like a blade, nodding once to his PA, Elena, as she handed him the updated threat assessment folder."Harlan wants five minutes before the investor call," she said, keeping pace. "He's pushing for more transparency on the encryption delays."Sebastian didn't slow. "Tell him transparency costs lives. He'll wait."Elena glanced behind him at Kane, walking two steps back, eyes scanning every face, every doorway. She lowered her voice. "He's... intense.""He's necessary," Sebastian said, sharper than intended.He pushed through the double doors into the main corridor. It was packed mid-level execs heading to the conference wing, interns clutching tablets, a delivery guy with a stack of boxes blocking half the path.Sebastian did

Chapter Six: AftershockThe sirens arrived too late to matter.They wailed somewhere below the penthouse, distant and impersonal, like an apology from a system that had already failed. Ronan ignored them. His focus was narrowed to the weight in his arms, the slow, uneven rise and fall of Elliot’s chest against his own.Elliot was burning—but quieter now. No longer flaring, no longer spiraling. Just simmering, heat contained by proximity and exhaustion.Ronan hated how effective it was.He eased Elliot down onto the couch, careful, controlled, like he was handling something fragile instead of one of the most powerful men in the city. Elliot protested weakly, fingers tightening in Ronan’s shirt.“Don’t,” Elliot murmured. “Don’t move away.”The words weren’t a command. They weren’t even confident.They were honest.Ronan stilled. For a long moment, he stayed crouched in front of Elliot, forearms braced on his thighs, close enough that Elliot could still feel him—could still anchor.“You’