Vanny X Security Guard Novels & Stories

Rookie mistake. But I wasn’t going to let that derail me. Not today. Not when I had way bigger things on my plate. Like moving into my fake fiancé’s penthouse. “I believe that’s the last luggage, ma’am,” Maverick, Nikolai’s other driver/bodyguard/security wizard/all-around polite man, said, snapping me out of my internal meltdown. I blinked, glancing at the sleek black SUV. “Oh. Uh, yeah. That’s it. Thanks, Maverick.” I forced a small smile and tried not to look like I was about to crawl out of my skin.

We passed a guard named Vance—a meathead with a thick neck and a keycard dangling from a retractable lanyard on his belt. This was the target. Silas had mentioned that the sub-level elevators required a Class-B clearance, and Vance looked like exactly the kind of ungrateful idiot who wouldn't notice a girl "tripping" into his personal space. "Watch your step, sorellina," Marcus teased, his hand sliding from my arm to the small of my back, his palm feeling like a cold, wet weight that made my stomach do a slow, sick roll. I didn't wait for a better opening. As we drew level with Vance, I let my left ankle "buckle," sending my entire weight crashing into the guard's side.

Jinyan leaned down, pressing their forehead against Panni's, blocking the door with the sheer bulk of their body. “You have it. I’ve got the ten seconds,” Jinyan vowed, the breath ragged. The doorknob began to turn. Jinyan didn't move. Jinyan simply stared at Panni, sharing a final, silent moment of commitment in the face of imminent exposure. The promise was clear: I will protect you. The door burst inward, hitting Jinyan’s shoulder with a sickening thud. A massive security guard—not Jinyan’s typical personnel, but one of Jinyan's father's heavy-set private enforcers—stood in the doorway, weapon drawn, illuminated by the harsh emergency light.

The glass in her other hand tilted, champagne dripping onto the floor. “Touch her,” Vincent said softly, his voice like velvet over steel, “and you’ll regret it.” The words sank into the silence like stones into still water. No one spoke. No one moved. Anna’s fingers tightened around her glass. The muscles in her jaw flexed once, so quickly it could have been missed, before her face smoothed back into a perfect, neutral mask. Vincent released Janette’s wrist, expression unreadable, and turned slightly. “Julian.” As if on cue, Julian appeared at his side, already on the phone. One nod, a few quiet words, and within seconds, two security guards strode in from the corridor.

Three hours later, Vanya called me back, and she sounded much happier. "Richmond, you're not going to believe this," she said. "Two security guards just showed up at my workshop. They said the city has started a new program to protect small businesses that have been targeted by vandalism." "That's great," I said, trying to sound surprised. "Did they seem professional?" "Very professional. They're going to patrol my workshop and my house, and they're installing additional security cameras. I feel so much safer already." I felt a wave of relief knowing that Vanya was now protected by the best security team money could buy.

My mouth falls open as I watch the scene, and my dancing buddy holding his hands in the air like someone's pulled a gun on him or he's about to be arrested. "What are you doing here?" I ask, pulling on Vincent's security detail's arm. I force him to turn and face my direction. I've only met him once since Vincent doesn't use him all the time, but there's no mistaking his identity. The security guard, whose name I can't remember, smiles. "Mr. Valiant feels more comfortable if I stand watch." Dancers swarm around us and we stand out like two unmoving poles in a sea of bodies. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

But as a security guard, I couldn’t refuse a resident reporting a possible break-in. I asked a coworker to cover my post and followed him to the 23rd floor. When he opened the door, I saw a woman standing in the living room. It was the same woman from the car. Mr. Reed put his arm around her and introduced: “This is my wife, Clara.” Then to Clara: “This is the security guard, Ethan.” Clara nodded politely, expression calm. She looked at me with total unfamiliarity—as if she truly didn’t recognize me. My suspicion grew even stronger.

Vance carries purple and lightly placing her in the backseat. He looked at her once again before putting his jacket to cover her. She was already sleeping. He kissed her tummy and forehead and went to the driving seat. ----------------- Vance drove infront of the mansion; all the security guard noticed the car, and without saying anything, they opened the large security gate. All the guard's salute him. He stopped his car infront of the entrance gate—four ladies dressed in a black shirt and knee-length pencil skirt with the name stage near there shoulder. I walked in a line and ready to greet him. A man in his 40s wearing a grey suit opened his car door.