A Knife on His Lap|| Bodyguard AU

Plan le soleil tombant

~Alexie Ivanov~

After a rejuvenating nap, I stripped off all my clothes, ensuring my glasses and ring stayed on at all times. I took advantage of the luxurious bath in my room for a soothing shower. The weather in Cannes proved much milder than in Paris, with the bright sun illuminating the azure sea, and a pleasant cool breeze wafting through the air—a perfect setting for a vacation. Unfortunately, I found myself confined to this vessel, and my sightseeing was limited to the expanse of the yacht.

Opting for a pair of shorts and a floral shirt, I decided to showcase my eight-pack abs, hoping the sight might serve as motivation for a certain someone. Leaving my shirt unbuttoned, I grabbed a book and ventured out to enjoy the weather.

"Albert," I called in the hallway, well aware that in affluent households such as these, it was customary for the staff to be on standby but only to appear upon request.

"Yes, sire," the butler immediately emerged from around a corner, as if he had been anticipating my call within earshot.

Pointing at the dining area on the floor below, I commanded, "Ask them to prepare the grand hall for lunch. I will be hosting Pierre."

I observed a slight twitch, a momentary raise of the butler's eyebrow in surprise. Whether he was truly shocked or not, he never revealed his genuine reactions in the presence of his masters—a true professional.

"Yes, sire," he curtsied before moving to instruct the kitchen. However, as he started down the corridor, I called him back.

"And also, before that, tell them to bring my lunch to my room. Send a girl to serve me, solitary and discreet. It would be even better if she is petite with wheatish skin and curly dark hair, perhaps South Asian. And yes, instruct her to smell like sweet mangos fresh on a summer day."

He nodded in acknowledgment of my peculiar request and turned around, well aware that such preferences were not uncommon in a place like this.

I narrowed my eyes at his retreating steps, a suspicion brewing in my mind. However, I wasn't quite certain enough about my suspicions to articulate them. With that lingering thought, I made my way back to my room and noticed at the end of the hall that Ronald the Mcdonld had returned. Fixing him with a stony glare, I inquired, "Where were you?"

A bit out of breath, the man looked about and replied flustered, "Um...just the washroom." I nodded, entering my room, well aware that he was lying and had been caught at a rather inconvenient time. Piggy and he had been busy gawking at pictures of my attractive wife, but had they been less foolish and checked, they would have realized it was merely images from an Instagram model's OnlyFans account.

Settling into the balcony that overlooked the vastness of the sea, I shook my head, muttering, "Men."

A knock on my door about half an hour later pulled me out of my thoughts. "Come in," I commanded without diverting my attention from my book.

Slowly, the door opened. Ronald entered first, followed by Albert, and then a girl in a maid outfit pushing a trolley of food. Not the classic French kind of maid attire, but a more sexualized costume that barely covered her body, with parts literally spilling out—her breasts and buttocks uncomfortably squeezed by the outfit. I raised my brow in a mix of amusement and disapproval. My, he had quite literally brought a girl who matched the exact description. Beautiful in her own right, she still didn't compare to my Angel.

Slowly, the girl and Albert worked in tandem to arrange the spread on the table set up on the balcony. Before they could finish, I glanced at the girl, my gaze sharp, and gestured for her to come closer. Uncertain, she looked at Albert, who encouraged her. With shaky legs, she approached, standing at a respectable distance. I continued to gaze down at her, noticing her fidgeting with her fingers on the thigh-length skirt she wore.