MrsMolinaaa
It all began amidst chaos and culminated in an unquenchable desire.
Isabella Derrick, the princess and only daughter of Gordon Derrick-the unmistakable Wall Street magnate-was undeniably his greatest treasure. Her father would go to any lengths to shield her, fully aware of the formidable enemies he had forged.
He made a daring gamble, risking everything: hiring a renowned, fiercely skilled bodyguard with a notorious reputation.
His sweet delicate Bella just had no clue.
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"Boris," I declared, my tone leaving no room for argument.
"Bella," he replied, completely unfazed.
"I'm not going," I stated firmly, tossing aside the clothes he packed and pushing the backpack off the mattress.
"There's no discussion. You will go," he insisted, his Russian accent thickening as his voice resonated with authority.
"Good luck with that, because I refuse to move," I retorted, crossing my arms with a confident smirk, though he remained stoic.
Without a word, he grabbed the bag, threw the same clothes back in, and swiftly gathered what he deemed necessary. I noticed his own luggage by the door-an ominous realization that this had been his plan all along. In seconds, he gripped my arm, leading me down the stairs with our bags, my body reluctantly under his control.
I tried to resist, but his hold only tightened, a dull ache spreading as I struggled.
"Не будь чертовым сопляком," he warned, turning to hold my face gently. "Stop fighting; this is for your safety."
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right-someone was systematically hunting my family, and I was next. I needed him, whether I liked it or not. The brutal truth was, without this skillful yet irritating man, my life could end in an instant.
Yet, beneath my resolve, a whisper of defiance and an unspoken craving burned fiercely.