The American Bodyguard ✔️

chapter five

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Zainab's POV.

"I uh, I don't date a lot," I admit bashfully. "If the situation arises, I'll talk to you about it beforehand, but I don't see that being a problem. It never has been before."

He looks intrigued for the first time but satisfied with my answer.

"What about you?" I blurt.

"Me?" He asks.

"If you want to bring a date back here..."

He looks uncomfortable as he shifts on the chair, making it creak with his weight.

"I won't be dating, Miss Qadir."

That reminds me, I need to mention the name thing.

"How long do you intend on keeping this job role?" I ask and then wince. "Sorry, that's a bit personal."

"It's quite alright. Your father requires Reagan for three months. I imagine when he returns we will move to the alternate week schedule that you are used to."

"So, you intend to give up your life to three months of continuous work?" I ask gently, recognising that I'm being nosy and a little rude in my wording.

He shrugs.

"I don't mind."

"I guess the pay helps..."

His face shadows and I know I've said the wrong thing. I give him an apologetic smile and trace the rim of my mug awkwardly with my finger.

"Sorry, I have a habit of being blunt sometimes," I confess to him.

He surprises me by giving me a small smile.

"Don't apologise, I respect it, makes my life easier. I would rather you were upfront with me please, Miss Qadir."

"Ah, that's another thing. Please, call me Zainab. I hate being called Miss Qadir." I see him hesitate so I continue, "The other guards call me Zainab, Reagan did too."

He doesn't look 100% happy about it, but he relents and nods.

"Very well."

"I think that's everything," I announce slowly. "Just let me know if I've missed something."

"Will do."

Okay, end of discussion I assume?

I get to my feet and down the last of my coffee.

"I'll be ready for leave for the gym in ten minutes."

He nods and gets to his feet, too. I go to my bedroom and spread out on my soft rug. I like to stretch before the gym and I don't like doing it at the gym because there are a lot of pervy guys who just lap up the sight of a woman in Lycra bent over.

In the comfort of my room, I stretch out my muscles. My legs are stretched out in a V shape in front of me, my head bent over and pressed against the floor, when Huxley knocks on my door.

"Come in," I mumble and slowly raise my head.

His eyes widen slightly but that is the only reaction he gives. My eyes land on my stilettos, hanging from his finger.

"You left these in my room."

He sets them down on the floor.

"Thank you," I call out, but he is already shutting the door.

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When Reagan or Wrenn come to the gym with me, I barely notice them. They do their own workouts, and they regularly look over and check that I'm good, but other than an awareness of their protection, I'm in the zone.