The CEO And Her Bodyguard

4: The Bitter Taste of Legacy

By the time the sun was low and the sky had turned to bruised shades of orange and purple, my chest already felt heavy. I’d changed out of the bikini and slipped into a long black dress that hugged me just enough. I pulled my hair back into a sleek, tight style. A CEO’s armor. A mask.

But no mask could hide what tonight really was. A dinner with the Grants. My so-called family.

Michael straightened his tie in the mirror, but his eyes kept moving to Derek, who stood near the door. Derek wore no tie, no suit. Just clean, dark lines...a shirt tucked into trousers, his weapon hidden but obvious to anyone who knew where to look.

“You’re sure you want to take him?” Michael asked, his voice low and edged with annoyance.

I adjusted my earrings, refusing to meet his gaze in the reflection. “He’s my bodyguard, isn’t he? That’s the point.”

Michael let out a short breath, muttering something under his breath before heading for the door.

We drove to the old Grant mansion...my adoptive mother’s estate. She was the woman who had taken me in at ten years old when I had no one. She’d put me through the best schools and pushed me harder than anyone, believing in me when her own children wouldn’t even look her in the eye. She had known the truth...that her bloodline was greedy, circling her life like vultures. When she died two years ago, she left them scraps.

She left Grant Enterprises to me. All of it. And they had never forgiven her...or me.

The mansion doors opened, and there they were. Four fakes with four identical smiles.

Richard, the oldest, stood in a navy suit, pretending to be the rightful heir while his own businesses bled money. Caroline was dressed in diamonds she hadn’t earned, her lips curled as if she were smelling something foul. Thomas, the meanest of the bunch, leaned against a pillar with a smirk, and Evelyn, the "baby" of the family, watched me with eyes made sharp by years of resentment.

“Rebekah,” Richard said smoothly, opening his arms as if we were actually close. “So glad you could join us.”

“Of course,” I said, my heels clicking softly against the marble as I moved forward. Derek was a presence at my back, close enough to feel, far enough to remain professional.

Caroline’s eyes drifted to him, a spark of curiosity lighting her face. “And who might this be?”

“My bodyguard,” I said, cutting off any further questions.

“Bodyguard?” Evelyn’s laugh was high and forced. “How dramatic. You do realize this is a family dinner, not a war zone?”

I smiled tightly as I took my seat at the long mahogany table. “Considering I was almost kidn*pped last night, I think a bodyguard makes perfect sense, don’t you?”

The table went quiet. The only sound was the clink of silver from the staff behind us.

Thomas leaned forward, his smirk widening. “Yes, we heard about that. So careless of you, Rebekah. Mother gave you the keys to the kingdom, and you can’t even keep yourself safe?”

I clenched my jaw but remained silent. Derek stayed behind me, his back to the wall, his eyes scanning every movement in the room.

Dinner was a blur of fake chatter. Richard bragged about a new venture; Caroline complained about Paris. I sipped water and nodded when forced. All the while, I felt them watching me. Waiting.

A servant approached my side, a bottle of red wine in hand. He poured it into my glass carefully...a different bottle from the one already on the table. My brows pinched together. I opened my mouth to ask why...

Before I could speak, a hand shot past my shoulder. Derek grabbed the stem of the glass, pulling it out of my reach.

The table froze.

“What are you doing?” Caroline snapped, looking offended.

Derek didn’t answer her. He grabbed the servant by the collar, his movements a blur of controlled violence. He pressed the glass to the man's lips and forced the liquid down his throat.

The servant choked instantly. His eyes went wide with a terror so raw it made my stomach flip. He collapsed to the floor, his body jerking in violent spasms as he gasped for air. His skin turned a sickly, clammy pale, and his lips began to blue.

“Poison,” Derek said, his voice as hard as a whetstone.

The room erupted. Caroline screamed. Evelyn shrieked, backing away from the table. I stared at the man on the floor, my heart hammering against my ribs. That glass had been for me.

Derek’s hand closed around my wrist, firm and unyielding. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“Wait...” My voice cracked, but he was already pulling me out of the chair.

Richard stood, his face a mask of false outrage. “Where are you taking her? You can’t just drag her out!”

Derek didn’t even look back. He hauled me through the dining hall, his grip like iron. My heels scraped the floor as I struggled to keep pace with his long, urgent strides. He shoved the front doors open, and the night air slammed into us...sharp, cool, and filled with the scent of rain.

“Derek!” I yanked at my wrist, finally forcing him to stop. I was shaking so hard I could barely stand.

He spun on me, his eyes blazing in the porch light. “That was meant for you.”

I froze, the reality finally sinking in.

His chest rose and fell in heavy heaves. He looked like he was fighting the urge to break something. “Do you understand that? If I hadn’t stopped you…” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “Don’t ever reach for anything unless I tell you it’s safe. Do you hear me?”

I swallowed, my voice barely a whisper. “I hear you.”

Inside the house, I could still hear them...my "family"...pretending to be horrified. I looked up at Derek. My life wasn't safe. My own blood wanted me dead. But for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of the threat.

I was afraid of how much I trusted the man holding my wrist.

My knees finally gave out, turning to jelly beneath the weight of the adrenaline crash. I stumbled, but Derek caught me before I hit the stone.

“Rebekah, you can’t walk,” he said. It wasn’t a question; it was a command.

Before I could protest, he tucked one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me against his chest. My breath hitched. I felt the heat of him through the thin fabric of my dress, the steady, thudding rhythm of his heart against mine.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, the mansion fading behind us. The shouting and the taste of death felt miles away as long as he was holding me.

“I hear you,” I whispered again, closing my eyes.

He lowered me into the car, his hands lingering on my shoulders for a second too long before he shut the door. As he slid into the driver’s seat, with his presence filled the small space, anchoring me.