Claimed By the Bodyguards (Claimed by… Reverse Harems #1)

Chapter 1 MATEO

MATEO

I've babysat them all in this line of work. Rich kids who party too hard, tech moguls with more money than sense, musicians drowning in groupies. But models? They're a special kind of nightmare.

"This is the place, huh?" I mutter, absorbing the sprawling property through floor-to-ceiling windows. Nestled among Topanga Canyon's trees, the house rises like a bohemian fever dream: wooden beams and glass walls blending seamlessly into the wild landscape.

Ethan paces the living room while we wait for our next assignment. His eyes methodically catalog every corner, exit point, and potential security weakness. We're all trained to assess spaces, but Ethan elevates it to an art form.

"So, what's up with this one, Boss?" I pull up the file on my tablet again. "Just another spoiled celebrity needing a glorified babysitter?"

"This isn't just another celebrity babysitting gig, Kid." He stops pacing, expression serious.

Kid. The nickname I've been stuck with since joining Cross Security. At thirty-two, I'm hardly a kid, but when your business partners and best friends are both thirty-six and built like brick walls, you learn to pick your battles.

I glance over at Declan, the final member of our security trio. Unlike me, he's already in full bodyguard mode: back to the wall, eyes on the door, legs spread wide for stability, hands clasped in front, face unreadable. He never wastes time getting comfortable. Still waters run deep with that one.

Morning sun filters through gauzy curtains, flooding the spacious living room with warmth. Light catches on the stone fireplace and furniture in neutral tones. Nothing like the gaudy mansions most celebrities favor.

"You read the file?" Ethan peers through the windows, assessing the exterior.

"Yeah, I read it." I make no effort to hide my lack of enthusiasm.

Jade Sinclair. Twenty-three. Not just any model, but the model of the moment. At her young age, she's reached that rare one-name-only celebrity status. Just "Jade."

I don't follow celebrity gossip unless I have to work for them, but even I know her story: discovered as a pre-teen, crowned "the most beautiful girl in the world," skyrocketing to become one of the highest-paid models in the industry.

Lately, though, that fairy tale has crumbled. Rumors of diva behavior, club incidents, rehab stays. And now, apparently, she has a stalker.

Not your run-of-the-mill creepy letter writer, either. Someone attacked her at a hotel pool in New York, struck her across the head, and left her to drown. Thankfully, someone pulled her out in time.

Ethan shoots me a look. His eyes say he's not in the mood for my attitude. "This is a legitimate security concern. Someone tried to kill her."

"Or someone was trying to get her attention," I counter. A familiar tension tightens in my chest as I remember my last celebrity client: Melissa Walker, indie film darling and absolute nightmare. The woman who tried to drug my drink just to add another bodyguard to her list of conquests.

"Not all clients are like Walker." Ethan reads my mind as he often does after years of working together. "Keep an open mind."

"Hard to have an open mind about someone who's been in and out of rehab and throws tantrums when her champagne isn't perfectly chilled." I scroll through the tabloid headlines I pulled up last night.

"We don't know her." Declan's deep voice rumbles from his position by the wall, like distant thunder breaking silence.

"The media knows her plenty." I turn my tablet toward them both. "Jade Sinclair, the Ice Queen of the runway. Refuses to talk to reporters. Stormed off a photoshoot because they didn't have her preferred brand of water. Had to be carried out of a club in Milan last year."

Ethan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're not the paparazzi, Mateo. We're here to do a job. Professional assessment and protection."

"Fine, fine." I raise my hands in surrender. "I'll be on my best behavior. But when she starts demanding we fetch her lattes at 3 AM..."

"Then you'll politely inform her that your job is to keep her safe." Ethan cuts me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You understand why it's important to do a good job?"

"Yeah! I do understand..." I mimic his serious tone. "Starting security company, yada, yada, yada, plenty of competition... Jesus! Lighten up!"

Needing air, I crack open one of the windows. Warm California breeze carries the scent of sage and eucalyptus into the room. I scan the property, professional instincts kicking in despite my reservations about the client.

"Pretty isolated up here," I comment, noting the considerable distance to the nearest neighbor. "Good for privacy, bad for security."

"Exactly." Ethan joins me at the window, blue eyes narrowing. "Too many blind spots. We'll need to set up additional cameras."

Footsteps draw our attention as a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair enters the living room. This must be Gloria Hayes, Jade's manager. She wears a crisp blouse and slacks, the universal uniform of someone who means business.

I step forward with my most disarming smile. The one that's gotten me into plenty of good trouble before. I extend my hand.

"Mateo Rivera," I introduce myself, holding her handshake a beat longer than necessary. "Just one question before we begin." I lower my voice with mock seriousness. "Exactly how many models live here? Because I'm starting to feel we need a bigger team to protect all the beauties."

Gloria turns an unmistakable shade of pink, but her composed expression barely falters. Her eyebrow arches slightly. Her mouth twitches.

From his position, Declan mutters, "Jesus Christ."

Gloria reclaims her hand and smooths her skirt unnecessarily. "Only one," she replies coolly. "But you can keep those charm bombs coming because I think you're going to need them."

Well, I do believe I just got schooled.

"Mr. Cross." She greets Ethan with a firm handshake. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Ms. Hayes," Ethan replies with a nod. "These are my associates, Mateo Rivera and Declan Reid."

Gloria's eyes linger on Declan a bit longer than necessary. The scar on his face tends to have that effect on people: a mixture of curiosity and unease that he's learned to ignore.

"Miss Sinclair is resting." She gestures for us to sit. "The attack left her quite shaken."

I sink into one of the plush sofas, crossing one ankle over my knee. "Didn't she have any security team before this incident? After all, she's someone with a high profile, very easily recognized."

"Jade is a very private person." Gloria perches on the edge of an armchair.

"She values her privacy and feels that having a security team or bodyguard with her all the time would be invasive.

Up until now, she's relied on the security teams of the places she frequents, either for leisure or work.

I'm hoping that given the circumstances and the fact that your company was highly recommended by the detective investigating the incident, she will change her mind. "

Ethan's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "What do you mean, 'change her mind'?" His voice drops lower, a sure sign he's getting irritated. "Doesn't she know you hired us?"

"I thought it best not to consult her on this," Gloria admits. "She would just say no, like she has in the past. Besides, I was assured that your team would be discreet and interfere the least in her daily life."

"Ms. Hayes," Ethan says, his words measured and slow, "we are discreet and very professional.

But there is no way we can handle someone's safety against their will.

We will need full access to her schedule and a complete list of her interactions.

In short, we will need to get very involved with her life.

The lines of privacy, although respected, will become blurred. .."

"That might be difficult," Gloria interrupts politely. "You need to find a way to keep her safe but respect her ways."

Heat rises to my face as frustration bubbles over. "Which makes our job harder," I snap, voice rising. "Típico. They want protection, but won't let us do our jobs properly. Then when something happens, it's never their fault."

"Mateo," Declan warns, his voice a low rumble.

But I'm on a roll now, gesturing with my hands as I speak. "No, seriously. Last time I played bodyguard to a model, she expected me to be her personal assistant, therapist, and potential hookup all rolled into one. These people live in bubbles. They think the world revolves around them."

"Mateo." Ethan's tone carries a clear warning now.

"Oh, come on! You know I'm right!" My voice rises as the words tumble out.

"She values her privacy, but she's always in the news with some fresh scandal.

She's a 'private person' but keeps going to the most outrageous parties.

She doesn't want a security team following her, maybe because she's always in and out of rehab.

Then, when things go sideways, we're the ones left to blame. .."

"Well, that's one thing you won't have to worry about because I'm definitely not hiring you!"

A new voice cuts through the room like a blade. Cool, composed, and unmistakably female. My stomach drops and my words die in my throat. I freeze, then slowly turn toward the doorway.

Standing there, arms crossed over her chest, is Jade Sinclair herself.

She's smaller in person than I expected, dressed in simple loungewear with her copper hair piled in a messy knot on top of her head. Without makeup, I can see a scatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks that never show up in her magazine covers.

But it's her eyes that catch me off guard. Almond-shaped, piercing green, and currently narrowed in what can only be described as icy contempt as she stares directly at me.

Mierda.