The Bodyguard's Betrayal

Chapter Ten

Gabe

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It's been two days, but the image of Principessa in that nude bodysuit is stuck in my head.

I wanted to think I was immune to her charm, that her superficial personality was enough to deter me from thinking about her, but deep down, I know if not for that PA walking in, I'd have kissed her or worse.

My grandmother, a devout Catholic, would have called it divine intervention, and maybe she's right. I'm capable of many things, all terrible, but the moment I let myself go there, I'm not just a thief—I'm irredeemable. Stealing from a spoiled princess is one thing; I can convince myself it's for a necessary cause. But fucking her first?

That's a line even I won't cross.

Leaning back in my desk chair, I scan the several office cubicles that make up GSS's headquarters, not surprised by the hustle around me. Spring seems to be a busy season for the wealthy, so we've got everyone on deck, filling up every meeting room and office.

I check my watch again and wince. I've got a meeting with Daniel Redwood, head of GSS, in thirty minutes, and it's got me on edge. That's the problem with bending the rules—you're always paranoid about getting caught. And when it comes to Evangeline? I've broken more rules than I can count. If Redwood or anyone else here were to find out about how unprofessional I've acted, let alone what Denaro and I have planned, even my good standing won't save me. I'll be done. Kicked out of GSS and handed over to the cops, where I'll likely spend the rest of my life rotting in some jail cell.

It's what I deserve.

Before this deal with Denaro, I was well on my way to rising through the ranks as one of GSS's top bodyguards. Redwood loves to dangle pay raises in front of his best employees, and my only real competition was his son, Reed—the heir to GSS. 

As far as bodyguards go, Reed's in the wrong profession, or at least that's how I see it. He's a playboy riding on his father's success, not someone driven by a sense of duty to protect others. Then again, who am I to judge? If I really cared about helping people, I wouldn't have landed myself in this mess in the first place.

Attempting to distract myself, I face my laptop and continue working on Evangeline's stalker. Stu aside, it's the biggest threat to our plan at the moment, and ignoring it could not only mess up the heist but put Evangeline in danger. It makes sense to focus on it now so later, I don't have to.

The problem is, I don't have much to work with. Ever since that night in her dressing room, the princess has been avoiding me. That, paired with the fact I've had the last two days off, means I haven't had a chance to interview her.

My other avenues led to dead ends too. The flower shop Kat forwarded the details of refused to give me an address, and the messages she sent me are all so different that I can't piece together any similarities. Until I see Evangeline tonight for my shift, I'm just grasping at straws.

Still, I'm nothing if not persistent. I open a new document, thinking about the people closest to her who might have potential motives. They say most stalker situations involve someone known to the victim, and while in Evangeline's case, it's more likely to be an obsessed fan, I'm leaving no stone unturned.

Her mother is an obvious suspect. Wanting to control her daughter and enforce more security, what better way than to fabricate a stalker? Or maybe it's Kat, jealous of her best friend's fame and seeking revenge. Far-fetched, maybe, but I've known for a long time you can't trust anyone—not even family.

Especially not family.

Just as I'm about to write down her father's name, Denaro messages demanding more intel as if the several photos I'd taken of the house using the security system I had installed weren't enough. He should have the entire layout of the land by now, but apparently, I'm not moving fast enough.