The Bodyguards boy のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

Rowan Maddox didn’t like babysitting billionaires’ sons.He liked control. Schedules. Predictability. People who followed orders and didn’t come with PR teams, club scandals, or designer addictions.So when his phone rang that morning private number, clipped voice on the line, offer too large to be polite he almost said no.Almost.But then came the name.Cassian Wexley.And the price.Now he sat in the steel-and-glass atrium of Wexley Global Headquarters, sipping stale coffee from a paper cup, trying not to grind his teeth as his contact approached.“Taryn Hollis,” she said, extending her hand. Smooth blazer, sharp eyes, not a hair out of place. “Thank you for coming on short notice.”Rowan shook her hand. Firm grip. Direct gaze. He respected that.“I’ve read the file,” he said. “And the headlines.”Taryn sighed. “Then you know what we’re dealing with.”“I know he’s a liability,” Rowan replied. “And that you want me to make him... what? Behave?”“Preferably not die. That’s the baseli

Cassian woke with a sour taste in his mouth, an aching head, and the distant, humiliating memory of being protected. Again.The penthouse was quiet. Too quiet. Sunlight stabbed through the tall windows like punishment. He groaned and sat up, squinting at the floor scattered with designer clothes, half-empty glasses, and a bottle of something amber and reckless.And then he saw him.Rowan was still there. Seated by the floor-to-ceiling windows, dressed in black, a mug of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. He looked like a statue carved out of steel and discipline. Sharp jaw. Set shoulders. Unmoving.Cassian ran a hand through his tangled hair and muttered, “Jesus, do you sleep in shifts or are you just haunting me now?”Rowan’s eyes didn’t lift from the tablet. “I sleep when you stop self-destructing.”Cassian made a face and flopped back on the couch, arm over his eyes. “You’re chipper this morning.”“I’m functional,” Rowan said. “You should try it.”Cassian chuckled dryly.

Cassian wasn’t sure what woke him the sharp blade of sunlight cutting through the penthouse curtains or the dull ache pounding behind his eyes. Either way, morning didn’t feel like a beginning.It felt like punishment.The sheets tangled around his legs like restraints. His mouth was dry, his chest heavy. The pillow beneath his head was cool, but not in a comforting way. It was the chill of solitude.The images from last night returned in pieces, like shards of broken glass he had to crawl across: the flashing cameras, the alcohol, Julian’s hand on his arm, Rowan’s voice like thunder. That touch Rowan’s thumb brushing along his jaw it lingered far longer than it should have.Cassian rolled onto his side, trying to push it all down. But something had shifted. And ignoring it only made it worse.He eventually forced himself out of bed, padding into the kitchen barefoot. He expected the usual quiet, maybe a note left on the counter. What he didn’t expect was Rowan, standing by the floor-

Cassian sat cross-legged on the penthouse floor, the glow of his laptop illuminating his face in flickers. Every headline was a fresh wound.“Wesley Heir in Scandalous Encounter at Gala”“Cassian Wesley’s Hallway Hookup Goes Viral”“Family Empire Threatened by Son’s Exploits”He hated them. Not because they were inaccurate but because they weren’t. They were exactly who he had been. Until now.Rowan hovered silently nearby, arms folded as he watched the screen with hawk-like focus. He’d been unusually quiet since the gala. Not cold just observant. And Cassian could feel it. The shift.“Julian wanted this,” Rowan said, breaking the silence. “He didn’t just want you. He wanted the exposure. The leverage.”Cassian leaned back against the couch, eyes glazed. “And he got it. My father’s furious. The board is baying for my head, and I’ve had three PR reps quit in twenty-four hours.”Rowan’s jaw tensed. “Then we hit back.”Cassian raised an eyebrow. “We?”“You’re not in this alone. Not anymo

Cassian wasn’t a morning person, but today, he was radiant.Clad in his plush white robe, a silk sash tied carelessly around his waist, he lounged on the terrace of the penthouse with a steaming cup of espresso. The city shimmered below, unbothered by his stunts or scandals. For once, so was he.His phone buzzed on the table beside him.“Taryn,” he greeted, taking a slow sip.“You’re awake early. That’s new,” she said with a dry tone.“I’m reborn, remember?” he replied, smirking.“Well, your rebirth has sent half the board into panic mode,” she said. “I’ve already gotten three calls and a very passive-aggressive email from PR.”“I’m impressed. Usually, it takes at least two press scandals to get them that riled.”“You want me to send Julian an invite too?”Cassian hesitated just for a second then smiled like a knife.“Absolutely. Front row. Let him stew in the irony.”“Got it. And what exactly are you wearing to this... gala of redemption?”“White velvet. Custom. I want the photograph