Billionaire's Bodyguard [𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃.]

𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐑. 5 | Seraph

FINAL SAMPLE CHAPTER

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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐑.

𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐎𝐍.

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It would be cowardly of me to pretend that I didn't regret leaving Beau in the kitchen. I regret not satisfying the curiosity nestled within me. I regret not kissing him. I regret the way I was feeling. I knew it would only lead to trouble. I had only been in two serious relationships and both failed miserably. I knew one thing and one thing for sure – I could never be romantically involved with my bodyguard. Again. But I couldn't deny this warm, fuzzy feeling within me. It infuriated me to no end. I don't know what it was, and I couldn't say I liked it. I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. I wondered if I could make him kiss me. What would he taste like? How would that feel? I wanted to learn every inch of him until there was nothing left to know, discover what secrets he hid behind that stoic expression.

A military man. He must be skilled. I wondered how strong he was. How fast he could be. Would he be able to beat me in a fight? I wondered if he saw me as a spoilt eighteen-year-old and not the Mafia-brought-up-girl I actually was. I wondered if he could see through my façade. Then I wondered whether I would stop wondering about him. Collapsing onto my bed with a loud groan, I swore every Russian curse word I knew under the sun.

At some point, I was so exhausted by my taunting thoughts, I drifted to sleep. When I woke up, the sky had darkened, and the sun was replaced by the magnetic moon which illuminated the darkness. I pushed myself out of my bed and grunted, feeling a headache coming on. Then, I was thinking about what Beau was doing. Remembering I had a blanket covering me when I woke up, my heart stuttered at the thought of Beau coming in and placing the blanket over my body. My body warmed at the thought of his fingers caressing my skin, even if it was a featherlike touch. My cheeks reddened and I forced myself to have a shower. A cold one.

When I got out it was 12 p.m. and my stomach growled, but I didn't want to go downstairs; I wasn't sure I was ready to face him again. So, I shoved myself back into bed and forced myself to sleep, praying the day would end. I wasn't sure when I finally knocked out but thankfully, I did. Not that it had helped, as I woke up from a dream about, no other than Beau St. Clair. The dream left me in shatters. All I could remember was running as fast as I possibly could, screaming his name but when I got no answer pure dread filled me. When I woke up, I felt a scream trapped in my throat and blinked the tears away, trying to comprehend how it was already the next day and how my concept of time was slipping away.

I sighed shakily, wanting to be free of any constraints and tore my blanket off my body. My body trembled as I made my way to the bathroom, clearing my tear-stained cheeks and trying to reduce the puffiness underneath my eyes. When I decided I looked presentable enough, I changed out of my nightwear and threw on some skinny jeans and a large hoodie. I curled my lashes with mascara, tying my hair back into a low ponytail before slipping a cap on. I needed to get out the house; I was beginning to feel claustrophobic and knew this was just the start. Grabbing my purse and cell, I quietly made my way downstairs, praying that I wouldn't get caught trying to leave the house, unattended. Thankfully, it was midday which meant most of the maids were busy but unfortunately, it meant that it was more likely that Beau would be awake. And knowing a man of his type, I had no doubt he was. Sneakily, I opened the front door but froze when I saw a large frame leaning against a matte black BMW with tinted bulletproof windows, smoking a cigar as he pushed his shades onto his head. I clenched my jaw, cursing myself for not waking up earlier and exhaled, closing the front door behind me before walking up to my bodyguard.