All Chapters of Married to my bodyguard : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The world was still ringing from the last gunshot when Cole shoved me into the truck. “Stay down,” he snapped. Gravel sprayed as the tires caught. My heart was still somewhere back at the cabin, tangled in the echo of gunfire and the smell of smoke. Cole’s jaw was locked, eyes fixed on the road ahead. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The silence between us was louder than any siren, the moment we had before the attack made my heartbeat faster, i don't know why I'm thinking about that awkward moment. Rain started again, thin and steady. It ran down the windshield in silver streaks. I could barely see the lines of the highway. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Somewhere where i can protect you” "You said the same thing about that cabin as well" "I didn't know they find u so attractive that come to find u wherever we go" The way he said that in sarcasm made me chuckled. I crossed my arms, pretending that the tremor in my voice was irritation, not fear. “You can’t kee

Cole’s hand wrapped around mine as he led me off the pier, firm, steady, commanding. To anyone watching, it probably looked romantic—like we were just two lovers escaping the fog for a lazy morning in bed. If only they knew his grip screamed danger instead of desire. “Don’t look back,” he murmured, voice low and controlled. “That’s easy for you to say,” I muttered. “You’re not the one being stared at like the daily special.” His lips curved slightly. “Then let him think you’re walking away with the only thing that matters to you.” I blinked. “That was… unnecessarily dramatic.” He smirked. “You’d prefer something less poetic? Fine. Just walk like you’re madly in love and trying not to ruin your honeymoon with an argument.” “That’s so much better,” I said dryly. We reached the corner of the street before Cole suddenly pulled me into a narrow alley between two shops. My back hit the cool brick wall; his hand braced beside my head. The world narrowed to his breath, his n

By the time we left the café, the whispers had grown louder. Not literally—no one was shouting across the street—but they drifted after us in that strange, sticky way small-town gossip always does. A glance here. A smile there. The abrupt hush the second I turned my head. If whispers were tangible, they’d be tugging at my sleeves. Cole didn’t seem to notice or care. He walked as if being watched was part of his natural habitat—as normal as breathing, as easy as blinking. But I wasn’t used to that. Spotlights at charity galas? Sure. Paparazzi hiding in hedges? Annoying, but familiar. Though—this was suspicion, not admiration. And it chilled me more than the ocean wind. At the souvenir stand, the woman behind the counter eyed us with a polite curiosity that felt like rummaging. “You two from the city?” she asked. “Something like that,” I said, aiming for breezy and landing somewhere between vague and suspicious. She tilted her head. “Funny. Don’t get many new

I woke up to the smell of damp wood and smoke, and for two long, panicked seconds, I had no idea where I was. My eyelids felt like they were glued shut. My body felt like it had been thrown—not gently—through a blender. Then the memories slammed back into me: The sedan. The headlights. The crash. The way the world spun like some sick amusement park ride. I jolted upright with a gasp. “Easy,” Cole’s voice said beside me—quiet, rough, warm. “You’re safe. For now.” Safe. Right. That word practically didn’t exist in our vocabulary anymore. I blinked until the blurry shapes sharpened into an old cabin—tiny, dust-coated, with a lantern that flickered like even it was scared to be here. A fire crackled weakly in a stove across the room. “Where are we?” I whispered. “A hunting cabin. Six miles from the crash site.” I stared at him. “You carried me six miles?!” “You were unconscious,” he said simply. “I wasn’t leaving you there.” My face warmed in a way that had nothing to do w

The rest of the drive back to the cabin was silent— but not the peaceful kind. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your skin, thick and electric, like the moment before a lightning strike. Cole didn’t look at me. I didn’t look at him. But I felt him. Every inhale. Every shift of muscle. Every ounce of tension rolling off him like heat from a furnace. The truck stopped. And I bolted out before my brain caught up. “Ariana.” His voice was right behind me, low and sharp. “No,” I snapped without looking back. “Not now.” “You can’t walk off alone.” “It’s a porch, not a battlefield,” I said, doing a dramatic sweep of my hand. “I think I can survive the treacherous ten-foot journey.” He didn’t even crack a smile. Which was annoying but… also unfairly attractive. Inside the cabin, he locked the door, spun me around by the wrist, and held out his hand. “Phone.” “Not happening.” I hugged it to my chest. “Unless you want to wrestle me for it