Don’t get a lady boner for your new bodyguard
DON’T GET A LADY BONER FOR YOUR NEW BODYGUARD
Brynn
“Is a full-time bodyguard really necessary?” I asked my manager, Stella. I already had such little privacy as it was, the thought of having someone in my space at all hours of the day grated on what little composure I’d managed to maintain since the delivery yesterday.
The worry on her face hadn’t gone away for a single second since the box had been delivered, but now there was a hint of relief there as well. “Afraid so. We can’t risk your safety, Brynn, and these guys are the best of the best.”
I knew she was right—this threat had been worse than any other I’d received in the past—but that didn’t make it easier to swallow.
Maybe it was stupid to hate the idea of having a bodyguard full-time.
I already had them whenever I went out in public; was it really such a big deal to have them with me at all times?
Wasn’t my safety more important than my privacy?
The answer should’ve been an easy yes, but the truth wasn’t that simple.
Stella cleared her throat. “There was another package with a note found last night. It was more graphic than the others and delivered to your private studio.”
My studio? That wasn’t even in my name. It was under a shell company that was under another shell company because I never wanted to be hounded by press if they found out where it was. We were always careful about when we went and that I was never seen entering or exiting the building.
I felt the blood rush from my face as I unsteadily grasped for the chair behind me. My movements were less than graceful when I sat with a thump.
Stella grabbed my knee and squeezed, and I looked up into her kind brown eyes. “Don’t worry, Brynn. We got the best security company money can buy. They’re sending over one of their top guys.”
I nodded vacantly as I nibbled on my lip and wondered if fame was really worth this.
Was it worth looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life?
If it wasn’t this stalker, would it be someone else?
Was I doomed to always be surrounded by people and yet feel so painfully isolated that my heart constantly ached?
A knock sounded on the door, pulling me from my mental spiral.
Stella was already halfway there when I stood from my chair.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath while she greeted the person at the door and introduced herself.
Her heels clacked on the tile floors of my entryway.
Only when I heard her getting closer did I open my eyes and spin around to face her and my new bodyguard.
Every thought in my head evaporated instantly as my gaze slid down the tall, delicious man in front of me.
His brown hair looked perfectly styled, and his black suit fit snugly over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, and fit torso.
It must’ve been custom because it didn’t fit his frame awkwardly.
His face was stern and serious, but his deep brown eyes were observant as he quickly scanned the room before looking at me.
His gaze was penetrating, his dark brows only slightly slanted to give away that he was assessing me—whether to see if he could determine my character or my weaknesses, I wasn’t sure.
I held my breath wondering what he thought of me.
Then I fought to keep my face neutral when the stupidest thought I’d ever had raced through my mind faster than I could stop it.
Did I make his breath catch the way he’d made mine?
He held out his hand. “Wyatt Jones.”
His voice was deep, and my stomach did a swirl as I placed my much more delicate hand in his large, callused one and shook it firmly.
A zing of electricity went through me at the touch, but I tried to keep myself composed so he wouldn’t pick up on the way his handsomeness affected me.
I knew better than most that looks didn’t determine if someone was good at heart.
His eyes widened with what looked like appreciation as he gave my hand a quick squeeze like he was impressed I gave a firm handshake.
If he thought I’d give a wimpy handshake just because I was a girl, he was sorely mistaken.
I was a businesswoman and I’d built an empire—even if most people downplayed my success by saying I just wrote clever songs and got on stage in glittery outfits.
I knew the truth. I was a force to be reckoned with, and I’d learned long ago a firm, solid handshake could set the tone early on in a meeting.
I was not a weak woman who was a pushover.
“Brynn Davis.”
I pulled my hand back and didn’t miss how he squeezed his hand once before relaxing it at his side and turning his attention to Stella who had started talking to him.
I should’ve been paying attention, but all I could do was stare down at his hand and think about that moment in the Kiera Knightley version of Pride and Prejudice when Darcy helps her into the carriage and then walks away, seemingly composed until he flexes his hand.
I hadn’t fully appreciated the hype around that moment, but I got it now. There was something that made your insides turn to mush when you watched a stoic man show even the slightest sign of weakness.
I swallowed hard and scanned over the definitely tailored suit up to dark eyes that carried a hint of amusement. My cheeks flushed at being caught checking him out, but I knew I was wearing enough makeup that he likely wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Do you still have the letter?” he asked Stella.
“Yeah. We’ve kept all the physical items in the safe and printed screenshots of the text messages. The police said there wasn’t much they could do but document everything. A lot of good that’ll do us if he gets to her,” she mumbled.
Stella was not a fan of how the police department had—or in this case, hadn’t—handled the situation.
Hence, why I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d gone straight to hiring a full-time bodyguard.
I was even relieved she hadn’t decided to go with the usual company we used because I was getting less and less pleased with their “protection” with each event they’d been hired to attend with me.
I couldn’t imagine feeling safe with them.
But of all the bodyguards in the world, did she have to hire the company with the sexiest bodyguard I’d ever seen? Surely there were men available who wouldn’t eviscerate my panties with just one look.