The Heir

Chapter 23

I dig through my dance bag for my makeup and hair spray. The costumes hang on a long rack in the back of the dressing room. Most of the other dancers are already here, applying eyeliner and gossiping.

I grab my hairbrush and look at myself in the mirror. My brows furrow as a familiar suit accompanied by a scowl looks back at me in the reflection. The other girls don't seem to notice him, honestly it's a bit concerning.

"Hi, Nacho," I smirk, brushing out my hair.

"Hello, Miss Isabelle," he steps out of the shadows. A few girls yelp, only now seeing him, but I ignore them.

"Why are you here?" I ask, looking at his reflection.

"I'm not allowed to come see you dance?" he shoots back.

I roll my eyes, "when was the last time you came to one of my recitals?"

He shifts his weight between his feet, "it's been a while."

"Exactly," I turn in my chair to face him. "So why are you here?"

When I'm away at school, my guards almost never show up. Montrose has a plethora of security measures in addition to the safety regulations of the country as a whole. This has only happened once before; when my dad was about to go to war.

Him being here is not a good sign.

Before he can get a single word out, B cuts into the conversation. She stomps over, propping her hands on her hips. Her gaze flicks back and forth between us for a beat.

"You can't invite your boyfriends into the dressing room," she says harshly.

"He's not my boyfriend," I scoff, shaking my head.

"Of course not," her scowl deepens. "A slut like you doesn't have boyfriends."

Nacho's hand reaches for his gun and he steps closer to the other dancer. I hold out my hand to stop him. B doesn't miss the movement though, the control I have.

"He's my bodyguard," I finally tell the girl in front of me.

Her face twists into one of genuine confusion, "since when do you have a bodyguard?"

I glance at Nacho but his narrowed eyes stay on B. While his job is to ensure my physical well being, he's always been on the overprotective side of things. In elementary school, he held one of my classmates up against the wall for calling me dumb.

"Since I was born," I inform her, turning back to the task at hand.

As I slick my hair back into a bun, I watch her cross her arms over her chest. Nacho moves closer, slow and deliberate steps, until his body serves as a buffer between me and B.

"You're a bad liar," she declares. "This is obviously one of your many fuck buddies."

"How dare you," Nacho wraps his hand around his gun but I grab his wrist before he can actually pull it.

He looks down at me and I whisper, "it's okay, Nacho. Just bitchy teenage shit."

"Nacho," B barks a laugh. "What kind of name is that?"

Nacho looks at me with an unreadable expression and I have to fight to hold in my laughter. His name isn't actually Nacho, it's Ignacio. But when I was little, when he was first assigned as my guard, I couldn't say his name. And it just kind of stuck, everyone calls him that now.

"Look," I sigh. "If you have a problem with him being here, go tell Madame. Otherwise, fuck off, I have to get ready."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish before she stomps off. I roll my eyes and go back to perfecting my bun. Nacho doesn't move though, he stays standing right behind my chair.