Dangerously Yours

Chapter Three

Raymond's childhood home didn't feel like home. It felt like a museum where people happened to sleep—marble floors, vaulted ceilings, art worth more than small countries. Cold. Perfect. Suffocating.

He stood in his father's study, arms crossed, while his mother paced like a lawyer preparing closing arguments.

"This is ridiculous," Raymond said for the third time. "I don't need a babysitter."

"You need to be alive," Amelia shot back. She'd changed since the conference room—different dress, fresh makeup, composure restored. But her hands were tight around her wine glass. "Or is that too much to ask?"

"Someone took three shots at you today," Roberto added from behind his desk. He hadn't looked up from his laptop since Raymond walked in. Typical. "Through a fortified window. In broad daylight."

"And I'm fine."

"You were *lucky.*" Amelia stopped pacing, turning on him. "Luck runs out, Raymond. Especially for people too arrogant to admit they're in danger."

Raymond laughed, sharp and humorless. "Arrogant? That's rich coming from—"

"Watch your words, young man." His father's voice dropped ten degrees.

Raymond bit back the rest. Barely.

The door opened without a knock. Desmond strolled in, suit jacket slung over one shoulder, tie loosened, looking like he'd just closed another deal that would make them all richer. He read the room in half a second.

"Ah," he said, grinning. "The intervention. Don't let me interrupt."

"Desmond." Amelia's expression softened—just slightly. She'd always liked him. Raymond's parents loved Desmond more than they loved most of their current family. "Perfect timing. Maybe you can talk sense into him."

Desmond dropped into one of the leather chairs, getting comfortable. "What'd I miss?"

"They hired me a bodyguard," Raymond said flatly. "Without asking."

"After someone tried to assassinate you," Roberto corrected, still typing. "Small detail."

"So hire more building security. Upgrade the cars. I don't need some six-foot gorilla following me into bathrooms and scaring me off—" Raymond caught himself.

His mother's eyebrow arched. "Scaring off, what, exactly?"

"My life," he finished lamely.

Desmond laughed. "You mean your string of one-night stands."

"Desmond," Amelia warned, but there was no heat in it.

"What? We're all thinking it." Desmond stretched his legs out, ankles crossed. "Look, man, I get it. Having some ex-military dude breathing down your neck sounds like hell. But your parents are right. Whoever's after you isn't messing around."

Raymond stared at him. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I'm on the side of you not getting shot." Desmond's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Call me selfish, but I'd prefer my best friend alive."

"See?" Amelia gestured at Desmond like he'd just delivered the Sermon on the Mount. "At least someone has sense."

Raymond turned to his father. "Dad. Come on. This is overkill."

Roberto finally looked up. His expression was carved from stone. "You'll accept the bodyguard. You'll cooperate fully. Or I'll pull you from every board meeting, every negotiation, every deal until this is resolved. Your choice."

The threat landed like a fist.

Raymond felt his jaw tighten. "You can't do that."

"I'm Roberto Jules. I can do anything I want." His father's tone was matter-of-fact. "Test me if you'd like."

Silence filled the study, thick and uncomfortable.

Desmond cleared his throat. "So... when does G.I. Joe arrives?"

"Eight tonight," Amelia said. "From Nyx Operatives. Best in the country."

Raymond groaned. "Great. I'm sure he'll fit right in at the club. Nothing says 'good time' like a bodyguard hovering over the VIP section."

"You're not going to clubs," his mother said simply.

"Excuse me?"

"Not until we know who's behind this." Amelia sipped her wine, unbothered. "You'll stay home. Go to work. Come back. That's it."

"Are you insane?" Raymond looked between them. "You're putting me under house arrest?"

"We're keeping you alive," Roberto said. "If that feels like prison, adjust your perspective."

Raymond's hands clenched. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of—his life, his freedom, boxed up and controlled by people who thought money and power meant they owned him.

"This is bullshit," he muttered.

"Watch your mouth," his father said without looking up.

Desmond stood, moving to the bar cart like he lived here. He probably spent more time in this house than Raymond did. "Look, give it a week. If the guy's a nightmare, we'll figure something out. But right now? Your parents are scared. Cut them some slack."

Raymond wanted to argue. Wanted to storm out, get in his car, drive somewhere they couldn't reach him.

But Desmond was right. His mother's hands were still shaking around that wine glass. His father had aged five years in the last six hours.

"Fine," Raymond bit out. "One week. But if this guy tries to tell me when I can take a piss, I'm firing him."

"Deal," Amelia said, too quickly.

Raymond frowned. "That was too easy."

His mother smiled. The kind of smile that meant she knew something he didn't.

"What?" Raymond demanded.

"Nothing." She took another sip of wine. "I'm just glad you're being reasonable."

"Mom."

"You assumed the bodyguard was a man," she said lightly. "That's... interesting."

Raymond blinked. Desmond paused, turning away from the drink he was about to pour into a glass.

"Wait. What?" They both chorused.

"Nyx sent their best," Roberto said, finally closing his laptop. "Veronica Ashford. Spotless record. Undefeated in combat trials. Expert marksman. Fluent in four languages," He paused. "Also a woman."

The words hit like cold water.

Desmond laughed, earning him a glare from Raymond.

"A woman," Raymond repeated slowly.

"Is that a problem?" His mother's smile sharpened. "I thought you'd prefer it, actually. Less 'gorilla-like,' as you so eloquently put it."

Desmond was grinning into his whiskey. Bastard.

"You hired me a female bodyguard," Raymond said, trying to process.

"We hired you the best bodyguard," Amelia corrected, placing more weight while saying ‘best’. "The gender is irrelevant."

"Like hell it is." Raymond ran a hand through his hair. This was worse. So much worse. "How is she supposed to protect me? What if—"

"What if what?" His mother's voice went dangerously soft. "What if she's not strong enough? Not capable enough? Please, Raymond. Finish that thought."

He knew a trap when he heard one.

"I just mean—"

"She's taken down men twice your size," Roberto said flatly. "She's survived three assassination attempts on previous clients. Zero failures. If she can't protect you, no one can."

"But—"

"But nothing." Amelia set down her glass with a sharp click. "She arrived at eight. You'll be polite. You'll be respectful. And you will not—under any circumstances—try to seduce your way out of this arrangement. Are we clear?"

Raymond's face heated. "I wasn't going to—"

"Raymond." His mother's look could've melted steel. "We're very clear on how you handle women. This one is not for that. Understood?"

Desmond was definitely laughing now, trying to hide it behind his glass.

"Understood," Raymond muttered.

"Good." Amelia picked up her phone, scrolling through something. "She'll have full access to your schedule, your penthouse, your office. Marcus is coordinating the details."

"Full access?" Raymond's voice climbed. "To my apartment?"

"She's your bodyguard, not your maid," Roberto said dryly. "She needs to secure your living space. Get used to it."

This was a nightmare. An actual waking nightmare.

A woman. In his space. Watching him. Judging him. Probably reporting back to his mother about every drink, every girl, every questionable decision.

"This is a mistake," Raymond said.

"Then it's our mistake to make," His father stood, signaling the conversation was over. "She'll be here at eight. Don't be late."

Raymond looked at Desmond, hoping for backup. Desmond just shrugged, still smiling.

"Hey, at least she'll be nice to look at, right? Silver lining."

"Get out," Raymond said.

Desmond laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he headed for the door. "Welcome to the rest of your life, brother. Try not to f**k it up."

The door closed behind him.

Raymond stood there, trapped between his parents and a future that suddenly felt a lot smaller than it had this morning.

"Eight o'clock," his mother reminded him. "Be early."

She left without waiting for an answer.

His father returned to his laptop, the conversation already forgotten.

Raymond walked out into the marble hallway, jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets.

A female bodyguard.

This was going to be a disaster. Raymond decided he will do his thing.