She's my bodyguard
The assassin who'd kill for me
The assassin who'd rather die young than live her life without me
The assassin who will never let me go.
She was just another job
Until she became my reason for breathing
But once she'll find the t...
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I sighed as I walked straight to my car with Beyoncé following silently behind me. Her presence was puzzling me, I don't know how to feel about it altogether. It was unsettling, but also comforting.
I was just wrapping my head around the fact that she became my bodyguard, and my father threw in the fact that she's gonna live with me. He might've as well married me to her, since he was at it. Am I still irritated about the whole thing? Hell yes, I am, and I'll need a strong drink to swallow all this shit down. But she's gonna be there... Ugh...
My whole private space is gonna get invaded, the little bit of control I had over a small part of my life is gonna be taken away from me. Why is this happening to me? And to top it all, my father does think I'm not handling myself really well. He didn't lie I know, but it still hurts when he admits it and says it out loud.
"Are you gonna walk through the car? You ain't Casper, you know that, right?" said Beyoncé as she saw me still walking even if I neared my car. Her and her slick ass comments. She irritates the fuck out of my soul when she opens her mouth at times.
"You know, one of those days you're gonna catch me in an even sour mood and you finna catch these hands." I said as I put on my shades and I saw how she was struggling to hold her laugh in.
"Please." She said as she finally let her laughter overtake her. She actually took her glasses off to wipe a tear away. "You won't even be able to put a scratch on me, kratoska." I scrunched my whole damn face at her, because this woman is underestimating the fuck out of me.
"Excuse the fuck out of me?" I said as I stopped to look at her and she started smirking. Oh, hell no, not again. "If you ever think of saying I'm excused, you might kiss the door of your SUV, Knowles. Choose your next words very carefully." I said as I pointed my finger at her chest.
She looked down at my hand, and held it in hers. "Oh, you just be wanting to touch on me? At least wait until we get home, not outside your papa's house." She said as she fake pouted at me and I swear my hand was really itching me to smack that smugness right off of her face.
I closed my eyes as I snatched my hand from her grasp and asked her the question I've been dying to ask. "Where are you from anyway? You have a very distinct accent."
"I was born in Moscow." Oh? That made her gain a few more points on her hotness scale. That explains the foreign nicknames she's been using on me too.
"You don't have a full Russian accent still." I mentioned.
She shrugged as she leaned back against my car. "I've traveled a lot, I lost it along the way, plus I settled here in Monaco, France for a while." Why am I impressed?
Something tells me that she left out a few parts of the truth, but seeing as we're talking about her accent and where she's from, I don't question her answer further.
