Big Bodyguard (Bigger Alpha’s #2)

Chapter One

Charlie

I barely recognize the girl in the mirror.

My dress clings to me like it has no business doing—it’s short, black, the neckline plunging low enough to make my cheeks burn just looking at it.

I’ve never worn anything like this before. I’ve never been allowed to. My father would probably lock me in a tower if he knew I’d even bought a dress like this, much less that I’m standing in it now, painting my lips scarlet like some femme fatale from the movies.

The lipstick trembles slightly in my hand. Not from fear—not exactly—but from the rush of emotions clashing in my chest. Excitement. Nerves. And freedom. At last.

I lean closer to the mirror, trying to convince myself that I can pull this off. That the girl with the bold red lips, the sinful dress, and the legs that go on forever, is really me. Charlotte Freeman.

I shake my head, a small smile playing on my bright red lips.

It still feels impossible that I’m here, in this nowhere town an hour outside of DC, tucked into a budget hotel room with a bedspread that smells faintly of bleach and air freshener.

Nobody here knows my name. Nobody looks at me and sees “The Sheltered Princess: Only Daughter of Senator George Freeman.”

There’s no paparazzi, or cameras flashing everywhere I turn. And to crown it all, I’m away from my dad’s team of bodyguards, who watch me like a hawk all in the name of protecting me from invisible threats and enemies.

For the first time in twenty years, I can breathe.

My whole life has been glass walls and security details, smiles practiced for photographs, and a father who never let me out of his sight.

I never went to parties. I never had sleepovers.

Never even had a boyfriend—because who in their right mind would want to date the girl with five to ten bodyguards shadowing her every move?

Finally, last night, I found the courage and opportunity to run. I grabbed my suitcase—already packed months ago—a wad of cash from my allowance, and my camera. The camera is my one indulgence, the thing that’s kept me sane all these years. The only thing left of my mom…

My chest tightens at the thought of her.

Not tonight…

I cap the lipstick and press my lips together, blotting them on a tissue until they’re perfect.

I stare at my reflection again, noting the doubt lurking in the depths of my eyes, just beneath all that glam and pretend confidence.

I can almost hear my dad’s voice in my head, lecturing me about the dangers of being reckless.

“You’re my only daughter, Charlie…”

I shake my head, as if to dispel the echoes of his words.

I’ll go back home eventually. I just need to know what a week of freedom tastes like. Maybe two.

And right now, my dad isn’t here to stop me. That’s the whole point of running away.

“Tonight,” I whisper dramatically to myself in the mirror, my lips curving upward in a smug smile, “I party.”

I giggle, feeling a sudden rush of giddiness in my chest. Then I grab my purse, double-checking the fake ID I got from a friend, and head out of the room.

When I slip out of the hotel lobby, the cold night air hits me like a wall of reality, and I feel the doubts rushing back at me.

“What are you doing, Charlie?” Dad’s voice echoes in my head. “It’s not safe!”

I swallow nervously, pushing away the thought alongside the feeling of guilt crawling up my throat.

“I’m doing this,” I mutter to myself, straightening my shoulders as a cab slows at the curb. I grip my purse tighter and force myself forward. If I back out now, I’ll never forgive myself.

The driver looks me up and down as I slide into the back seat. His brow arches, but he doesn’t ask questions. “Where to?”

“Take me to the nearest club,” I mutter, ignoring the acceleration of my heartbeat.

Ten minutes later, the taxi pulls up in front of a building with a neon sign that I don’t bother to read. The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. “We’re here, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” I mutter as I pay him and then slide out of the car.

Too loud. That’s the first thought that comes to my head as I step into the building. I can literally feel the floorboards rattling beneath my heels.

The air is thick with perfume, sweat, and tobacco. Bodies writhe together on the dance floor, shadows moving under strobes and colored beams. My head starts to swim. The noise, the heat, the press of strangers…it’s so much. Too much.

I hover at the entrance, gripping the strap of my purse like a lifeline. Everyone is either dancing, laughing, or gulping down drinks. They all seem to know what they’re doing, while I feel like a kid crashing an adults-only playground.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come…

Suddenly a body collides with mine, hard enough to jolt me forward. I gasp, catching myself just in time before I fall face-first to the ground.

“Oh my God, sorry!”

I turn and find myself staring at a goddess—a woman with blonde hair spilling over bronze shoulders, dress cut daringly low, lips painted cherry red. She flashes me a megawatt smile that belongs on a billboard.

“Didn’t see you there.” She grabs her friend’s hand, another girl just as gorgeous, just as confident. Together they spin back into the crowd, laughing, their hair catching the lights as they disappear into the music.

I can’t help staring. Not because they bumped into me, but because they move like they own the room. Free. Untouchable. Like no one could ever cage them.

The sight of them does something to me.

I realize—I want to live like them. Free. Without a care in the world. This is exactly why I ran away from home, wore a daring dress, and came to this club tonight.

I take in a deep breath, instantly regretting my action as the pungent smell of perfume mixed with sweat and smoke assaults my senses. I scrunch my nose and head for the bar.

“I would like a glass of something light and sweet, please,” I say to the redhead bartender with more tattoos than skin.

He nods, barely sparing me a glance as he prepares my order. “Here you go,” he mutters after a few minutes, sliding a glass of something fizzy across the counter. I don’t even know what I ordered.

I take a sip, wince at the burn, and turn to watch the dance floor, shuffling from one foot to the other as I start to feel a familiar itch in my palms.

If only I had my camera…

I can almost hear the shutter’s rapid clicking as I capture the beauty of this moment, this night of freedom. Sweat glinting on temples, hair flying under lights, the frozen ecstasy of strangers losing themselves in sound. Even without my lens, I can see the snapshots in my mind.

Freedom in motion.

The music tugs at me. I unconsciously start to tap my foot, and before long, I’m moving with the beat. My muscles feel lax, a giddy feeling climbing up my chest.

A guy waves at me from across the dance floor, grinning like we’re already friends. I shock myself by waving back.

Another man leans in to offer me a drink, his cologne sharp and expensive. “Wanna dance with me, gorgeous?”

“No thanks,” I mutter, flashing him what I hope is a confident smile.

He nods, his eyes registering his disappointment as he turns around to leave.

I take another sip of my drink, moving my hips in time to the music. I don’t know if it’s the fizzy cocktail or the loud and electric music but my body feels looser now.

Suddenly, someone grabs my waist, pressing their body roughly against mine. I jerk away, turning around to see a red-faced man with thinning brown hair, staring down at me with a drunken grin.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he slurs. His shirt is half-unbuttoned, his breath reeking of beer. “Dance with me, love.”

He says it like a command, but I shake my head, forcing my voice to stay polite. “No, thank you.”

I try to wiggle out of his hold but his grip only tightens around my wrist. “Don’t play hard to get, darling.”

“Let me go!”

“Now, aren’t you here for a good time?” he asks with a mocking sneer. His words are no longer slurred. “I promise to make it worth your while, Charlotte.”

I gasp. He knows who I am.

Suddenly, the man doesn’t seem as drunk as he did at first. His grip is firm, and his stance is steady. He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me tightly against his body. My heart hammers violently against my chest when I feel the outline of the gun he has stored under his jacket.

I look around wildly, wondering if anyone is paying attention, but no one seems to give a damn. Everyone is lost in their music and alcohol.

I turn back to the bastard, ready to claw out his eyes if necessary. I don’t know what his plan for me is, but I know it isn’t anything good. “Get your hands off me, you—”

Suddenly, he’s off me, his body flying across the room through a sea of parting bodies. My eyes grow wide, a loud gasp escaping my lips as I see him sprawled out on the ground, his expression twisted in pain.

I turn to my rescuer and look up slowly, meeting the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. My breath catches in my throat, and it has nothing to do with the commotion that’s unraveling around me and everything to do with the devilishly handsome man who just saved me.

He steps closer, his expression neutral, like he didn’t just hurl a grown man across the room like it was nothing.

“Are you okay, princess?” His voice is low, almost intimate, a smooth, deep rumble that sends a shiver racing down my spine.

The way he says that word—princess…

It’s what the tabloids call me too, but for the first time in my life, it doesn’t make me cringe. It makes me want to hear him say it again. And again.

“I asked if you’re okay?” he says again, his striking blue eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.

I nod, suddenly feeling tongue-tied.

“Good,” he says curtly, his hand suddenly closing over mine. Bold. Possessive. “Let’s get out of here.”

And just like that, he starts to pull me through the crowd. I follow, too stunned and overwhelmed to realize what’s going on.

Or maybe I’m just distracted by the feeling of his strong, calloused hand around mine.