The Bodyguard Novels & Stories

“That my best friend’s bodyguard is actually a billionaire. And not annnyy billionaire but freaking Nikolai Dorne” Now beside her, I led her to the couch. She didn’t resist, of course; she lived for dramatic entrances. I placed my hand on her shoulder as she lowered onto the couch, giving her light massages. “I know what you’re doing, and it's ohhh,” she groaned, “baby just there.” I continued with the massage, “You’ve had a tough week.” “Tell me about it. It’s one thing to deal with a self-absorbed Englishman who can’t stop bragging about his vintage properties, and it’s another that he smells like a neglected locker room. Like, sir, you’re a billionaire. Invest in deodorant!”

My bodyguard 1 I remember the day Knox arrived like it was etched into my skin with a hot blade. My parents had been paranoid ever since that creep started sending those letters—twisted little notes slipped under the door of our estate, promising he'd come for me soon. I was twenty-two, fresh out of college, living off Daddy's—no, my father's—credit cards and the endless parties that came with being the heiress to a tech fortune. Freedom was my drug, and now it was being ripped away because some psycho thought he owned a piece of me.

I liked being around her because she had so many stories to tell me and indulged my guilty pleasures… food I knew I wouldn't be able to eat at the table without Father giving me the stink eye or saying something offensive. JJ as I call her came in just then, looking as stiff as ever. She used to be in the military, a firm believer in playing by the rules, and my oldest bodyguard to date. I always wondered why she never quit like the others. Maybe she just really liked her work. I never could tell. She never really opened up to me. Her real name was Jennifer Jordan, but I liked calling her JJ. I couldn't see myself calling my bodyguards by their surnames like Father did.

In her words. “Give him your body, fuck him. I don’t care, if that’s what would take him to give you money. I can not be poor again.” His name is Thomas. He is strong, tall, very muscular like a bodybuilder and he’s half white, half Mexican. I love his accent the most. I had kept his number in case I had someone who needed a bodyguard. Well now I need one, because I’m about to turn everyone's life upside down and they won’t even see it coming.

But then someone kicked the door open, and hundreds of burly bodyguards came swarming in, surrounding the scene. Zoey did not even look back. In fact, she looked triumphant. Bartholomew held his head up. "See? Zoey's bodyguards are here. You're done fo—" A scream cut him short. The greasy man who tried to ride me had a bullet tear through his hand. He was rolling and groaning on the ground. "Mr. Artemisia!" the bodyguards shouted in unison. The crystal chandelier even shook a little. Then silence choked the air. The leader of the bodyguards was my dad's confidant and a retired special force soldier, Felix Cashmere. He darted ahe

I replayed the scene again—unwillingly. The way she froze. The way her breath caught when I asked who she was talking to. That split second before she tried to recover. People didn’t freeze like that unless they were hiding something. I took a slow sip of the whiskey, the burn doing nothing to settle the irritation coiled tight in my chest. I had interrogated executives, ruined competitors, dismantled empires built by men twice my age without my pulse ever spiking like this. So why did a bodyguard—my bodyguard—have my nerves stretched thin?

The new bodyguard was a woman. Jason didn't know whether to be insulted or amused. "You've got to be kidding me." He looked from his grandmother's smiley face to the tomboy standing at attention like a soldier reporting for duty. "Her?" "Her name is Jenna Smith," Helena said. "And she comes highly recommended." "She could as well be one of my fitness coaches." "Fitness coaches don't have her training." Jason moved in a circle around Jenna slowly. She didn't flinch or move, she just stood still.

Quinn wasn't the daughter of any important person or rich person, she was just a daughter of a middle class Diner owner, but somehow they got along really nicely. Jenna rolled her eyes, feeling slightly irritated. "That's not some random hottie, Quinn," she replied, trying to suppress her annoyance. "That's the bodyguard my dad hired for me, despite my clear objections." Quinn's expression shifted from flirtatious excitement to surprise. "Wait, seriously? Your dad went ahead and hired a bodyguard even after you told him you didn't want one?" she asked incredulously. "Well, I have to admit, he's dangerously handsome for a bodyguard, though." Quinn couldn't help

Bhima said. "Okay," said Edgar cheerfully. *** "Let's go!" The bodyguards, led by Bhima, were stunned to see someone in a wheelchair approaching them. "Is this you, Bhim?" a bodyguard asked. "Who else, if not me? I told you I wanted to change my costume from inside the hospital. Don't ask too many questions. Let's go now!" said someone who had dressed up as Hunter.

I don’t even know why dad lets these people in when it’s supposed to be a small thing. I smiled up at Nathan, like they obviously expected. “Thanks, babe.” I stepped aside and let Nathan close the door for me. I hooked my hand in Nathan’s arm. We posed a couple of times for the cameras and then asked them to let us go through. Although their cameras had probably flashed like 100 times in 30 seconds, they would still not let us go through. Nathan looked around for the security guards and one ran to us just in time before Nathan spotted them standing around when we needed them most. The bodyguard was tall, well-built, and dark in complexion. He came between us a