THE BODYGUARD

CHAPTER TWO

Marcus's POV

"Life shouldn't be this hard, you know!" I shouted, slamming the refrigerator shut in anger.

"You don't know a f*****g thing about hardship," my mom returned with a calmness that only added to my anger.

I walked up to her and stared at her face. She smiled coolly and patted my head.

I lowered my voice to match hers.

"Taking the freedom of choice from a human is suffering."

She sipped very slowly from her hibiscus tea, an attempt to get on my nerves more. I ignored her, my face just inches away from hers.

"Oh, Marcus, don't be dramatic... and besides, how can you tell what suffering is? You came home from the hospital as a baby in a goddamn Ferrari, for Christ's sake!"

"That doesn't—" She cut me off mid-sentence with a raise of her hand.

"We're done with this, Marcus. And your father agrees." She smiled cozily, knowing she'd just struck a nerve.

I ran my hands down my face in frustration as I watched her retreating figure leave the kitchen.

My phone rang. It was my best friend.

"Yoooo, Marcy... have you seen those videos?"

"What videos?"

Stephen groaned from the other end of the phone.

"What planet are you on, dude? I'll send you the link."

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with messages. I clicked on them and I was nearly knocked off my seat. It was a video of my schoolmates making out and doing all sorts of things in a pool.

I felt my anger rise again. This is what I'd be missing tonight because of my parents.

I was being caged in this house just because my dad got into a bad deal with some other powerful man, and all of a sudden we were being tracked down and having regular shootouts with gang members.

Was it a big deal? Well, yes, I guess being safe is important. But does it warrant me being handicapped and limited to only movement in this house? Hell no.

I didn't even bother fussing when my parents decided that aside from the endless flow of security personnel we had, having a personal bodyguard was better for me.

Well, whatever. As long as I'm let out of this house, I'd take any chances. The bodyguard in question wasn't here yet, which limited my argument about leaving the house.

The group chat was buzzing with fire emojis and spicy comments. I got tagged by my girlfriend, Stacey, asking what time we'd make our appearance.

I smiled. Stacey has always been one to assert dominance whenever it came to me. I loved the attention. At least she knew she'd be dumped if she didn't try to keep up.

I was so invested in the videos of shaking asses and makeouts going on that I didn't notice that I had company in the room.

"Miss Sebastene reporting for duty, sir."

I looked up. Behind my father's driver stood a stern-looking woman.

I studied her for a few seconds, letting my eyes roam the length of her body.

She was about five foot seven from my guess, with brunette hair that was pulled back into a tight ponytail. How doesn't she get a headache from such a tight style?

Her nails were done... what a surprise, I thought.

Her hands stayed still beside her. Next, I scanned her outfit. Oh, wow. A corporate girl. And she wore a pair of loafers that I considered ugly as hell.

She looked still and stern. But she was cute. That's the word, right? Yeah, we'll stick to cute.

Not that any of it mattered, though. But I was a little astonished. My bodyguard was a woman?

"You're a woman," I said finally.

"Sebastene, to be precise." I hid a smile. Sassy. Whatever.

"That's a man's name," I stated.

"Not my fault you all misread and assumed I was a man." She walked over to the kitchen table where I sat. I watched her closely, then shrugged. Whatever. I didn't really care. I just wanted to get to tonight's party.

"Did you read the requirements for this job before taking it?"

She didn't even spare me a glance and opened the refrigerator, scanning for whatever it was.

"I was recruited, boy." Recruited? What does that even mean? For a woman to be recruited to protect a man like me, I thought.

The idea of having a bodyguard didn't seem wrong to me, but being tailed around by a woman?

"What the actual f**k?" Swallowing down the rage that stemmed in my heart was becoming a task, but I just shrugged. She'd probably quit before long.

"I have this party tonight."

She nodded. "Okay. What time?"

"Ten p.m." She nodded again.

"But we might have a slight problem..." I paused to watch her countenance. Nothing. Just a stone face. Jesus f*****g Christ.

"My parents don't agree to leaving the house."

She shrugged and drank from the glass of wine she poured for herself.

"Then bring the party here."

"Good idea, but my parents said no."

She gulped down the rest of the drink and shrugged again.

"Then no party for you, gentleman."

At that point, I lost it. I didn't scream. I didn't say a word. I just turned and stomped out of the kitchen.

* * *

Sebastene's POV

It had been five hours since I came to this mansion and I'd only just had the chance to breathe for myself.

After hours of playing tough, shooting to show off my skills to the billionaire and his lawyer, doing drills with the rest of the security body who kept trying to prove that I didn't belong there but failed each time, I finally walked into my spacious bedroom for the first time and I was impressed. It was perfect.

The room was black-themed. They really thought I was a man, huh, I thought as I dumped myself on the semi-hard queen-sized bed. The walls were painted matte black, the flooring was black tiles lined with lightning-like white patterns.

In the corner of the room was a huge vintage black wardrobe with gold handles, and on the opposite wall was the hugest vintage mirror I had ever seen.

I stood before the mirror and started to undress. First was my shirt. I took some time and stared at the scars that lined my back and upper arms. Memories stirred, but I suppressed them as much as I could.

Now wasn't the time for all that. I have a job now. I was no longer an assassin. "I'm different... I'm changed now."

The door suddenly burst open and Marcus stood at the doorway, eyes once again roaming down my body with such obviousness. God damnit.

What exactly was it that made me react to his looks? I refused to analyze whatever it was and turned to face him with a stern expression.

"What do you want?" He stayed silent for a long time, during which multiple scenarios raced through my mind. Finally, he spoke.

"It's party time," he said with a smirk.