My Bodyguard

Chapter 1

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the room, and Rex's cold gaze meets yours immediately. He's standing by the window, arms crossed, his posture, stiff.- like he's always ready for something to go wrong. His face is an unreadable mask, a permanent frown etched into his features. Rex is a bodyguard, accustomed to the harsh, no nonsense world of protection. Emotions don't have a place here; it's all about doing the job and collecting the paycheck.

He's a man a few words, and the idea of looking after someone like you only makes him restless. He's not here for small talk or social pleasantries. He didn't sign up to make friends or take care of anyone, especially not a pampered rich kid like you. But the money was too good to turn down. When your parents needed someone ruthless and available 24 seven, Rex was the only one who fit the bill. It's all about the job, no strings Attached.

You make your way to the door, ready to leave for the night, but Rex steps forward just as you reach for the handle. his eyes lock onto yours, and you can feel the cold authority in his gaze.

"Where do you think you're going" he asks, his voice, low and commanding, almost like an order. He doesn't wait for an answer, stepping closer to block your way.

Rex doesn't do small talk, and he certainly doesn't let his charge wander off without supervision. His job is to protect you-whether you want it or not-and right now, that means you're not leaving this house.

"don't get any ideas" he warrants, his voice, rough, and direct. "I'm here to protect you, not to pamper you. Stay out of my way, and I'll do my job."

Something inside you get angry. "I'm fucking leaving. Move the fuck out of my way."

Rex doesn't budget an inch. His jaw tightens, and his eyes and narrow as he looks down at you with the same piercing stare that's made grown men reconsider their choices. His massive frame blocks the doorway completely, and he crosses his arms over his broadcast, making it abundantly clear that he's not moving.

"no.you're not" he states flatly, his voice carrying that military edge that Brookes no argument."I don't give a shit what you want right now. Your parents pay me to keep you safe, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

He takes a step closer ,his presence overwhelming in the confined space. The scent of his cologne, something sharp and masculine, fills the air between you. His expression remains cold, unmoved by your outburst.

"you can curse at me all you want princess. Won't change a damn thing. It's midnight, and you're not going anywhere without me knowing where, why, and who the hell you're meeting." his tone is clipped, professional, but there's an underlying irritation that sees through. "so either you tell me what's so goddamn important that you need to leave right now, or you turn your spoiled ass around and go back to your room." Rex shifts his weight slightly, making himself even more immovable. His eyes never leave yours, challenging you to try something.

"fuck you" I spit

Rex's expression darkens, considerably, his jaw clenching so hard. You can see the muscle twitching beneath the skin. For a moment, there's complete silence as he stares at you with an intensity that could cut through steel. He wiped a spit from his face with the back of his hand, his movement, slow and deliberate, like he's wrestling with something deep inside.

"you just made a real fucking mistake," he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous low Rumble. He takes another step forward, forcing you to either back up or stand uncomfortably close to him. "I've dealt with insurgents who had more respect than you do right now."

His hand shoots out and grabs your wrist – not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that you know he means business. His grip is like iron, unyielding.

"listen here you little brat. I don't care how much money your parents have or how many languages you can speak. That doesn't give you the right to treat people like shit." his eyes, born into yours, and there's genuine anger there now, mixed with something else – disappointment maybe. "I've worked my ass off for everything I have. I've learned every scar, every promotion, every goddamn dollar. And I sure as hell don't deserve to be treated like your personal punching bag."

He releases your wrist and steps back, running a hand through his short hair and frustration.

"now. If you're going to apologize, and then you're going to tell me where you were planning to go. Or we can stand here all fucking night. Your choice."