Falling For My Grumpy Bodyguard

Chapter 7

DAMIEN

“Boss, you must be out of your damn mind. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

That was the first thing Leo said, standing over my half-packed suitcase like he was my disappointed mother. After I told him, his tone was less like a concerned business partner and more of an older cousin who caught you sneaking out at 3 a.m. He folded his arms, shaking his head at me like I had personally betrayed our bloodline.

Maybe I should have looked guilty. Instead, I just shoved another rolled-up T-shirt into the corner of the box and said, “Maybe.”

I wasn’t even looking at him when I said it, because acknowledging Leo in moments like this was like pouring gas on a fire. The less eye contact, the better.

“Maybe?” His voice went up an octave, like he couldn’t believe me. “You’re packing clothes like a runaway teenager and you answer me with maybe?”

I straightened up, leaned against the counter, and gave him the blandest look I could manage. “What do you want me to say, Leo? Yes, I’ve completely lost it? Because, sure. Write it on a T-shirt if it makes you feel better.”

His eyes narrowed, the vein in his forehead starting to pulse the way it always did before he went full lecture mode. “I’ll tell you what I want. I want to understand why you’re willingly throwing away months–no, years–of work for this circus. Do you even remember we had a second chance meeting lined up with the Astoria Group today? Do you remember? Because you clearly weren’t there.”

“I remember,” I said, dragging the zipper across the box just to have something to do with my hands. “I also remember deciding it wasn’t worth it.”

Leo froze like I had slapped him. “Not worth it? That deal was everything. Do you know how hard I fought to get them back after you ghosted the first meeting? Do you even care?”

I shrugged. “We didn’t need it anyway.”

The room fell silent after I spoke. The kind of silence that sucked all the air out of the room. Then Leo laughed, but not the funny kind. The I’m-going-to-strangle-you kind of laugh. “We didn’t need it. Amazing. So tell me, Damien, what exactly do we need? Because clearly a stable partnership, money, and the reputation we’ve been building for five years straight is just… unnecessary.”

I flopped onto the couch, grabbing a bottle of water like this was a casual chat about the weather. “Relax. Ten grand a month is a pretty decent salary. Pays rent, keeps the fridge full. I don’t see the problem.”

His eyes bugged out so far I half-expected them to roll across the floor. “A salary? You want to give up everything for a salary? Damien, you’re acting like we’re some broke college kids looking for side gigs. You’re not an employee. You’re not meant to be anybody’s guard dog.”

I twisted the cap off the bottle and took a sip before answering. “Hey now, don’t insult guard dogs. They’re loyal, disciplined, and probably smarter than half the people we deal with.”

Leo ran his hands down his face. “I swear to God, you’re going to kill me. You think this is funny, don’t you?”

A small smirk tugged at my lips. “A little.”

“Unbelievable.” He dropped onto the chair opposite me like gravity had personally attacked him. “You’re making a mistake. A huge one. You’re about to trade power, autonomy, and years of sweat for babysitting duty. And not even for someone easy. We’re talking about Vincent Beaumont’s daughter. Arielle. The same spoiled brat who—what, threw money in your face yesterday after you returned her phone? That’s who you’re about to devote your life to?”

I stayed quiet for a moment, sipping water just to stretch the suspense. Then, calmly, I said, “You’re not allowed to call her spoiled.”

That was the line that broke him. He actually jumped out of his chair. “Excuse me, boss, but spoiled is literally her first, middle, and last name. She lives like life is rainbows and unicorns, and you can’t tell me otherwise. She treats anyone who isn’t in her tax bracket like trash. She’s twenty-three and already lacks empathy for the rest of the world. And now you want to be her shadow? Her servant? Boss, I’ve seen you loyal to the nation, but this? This is beneath you.”

I could tell he believed every word, and maybe some part of me agreed. Arielle Beaumont was a walking headache. Just from our two encounters, I got to know how loud, entitled, and sharp-tongued she was. The kind of girl who could make a room full of hardened men fold just by pouting. But what Leo didn’t understand, and what I couldn’t put into words, was that there was something else underneath all that glitter and chaos. I had seen a flash of it in her eyes during the first time our eyes met through the rearview mirror in the car. And ever since then, the memory has been stuck like a splinter under my skin. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pull it out or push it deeper. Maybe both.

Leo's words hit sharper than I expected, but I didn’t show it. Instead, I leaned forward, rested my elbows on my knees, and let out a long sigh. “Remind me again, Leo. Who is the boss here again?”

Leo froze, blinking like he had forgotten.

I raised a brow. “Go on. Say it.”

His shoulders slumped. “You, sir.”

“Good.” I pushed the water bottle onto the table and stood. “So let’s get one thing clear. I appreciate your worries. Really, I do. But I know what I’m doing. I chose this. So respect it.”

The room went quiet again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was more like Leo was recalibrating, trying to process the fact that I had already made up my mind. He rubbed his jaw, glanced at the suitcase, then back at me.

“You always did like impossible missions,” he muttered finally.

I gave a small shrug. “People barely know me anyway. This way, maybe I get to live a little quieter. Blend into the background. 10k and a roof? Not bad.”

Leo tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit anywhere. Then he sighed, defeated. “Okay, boss. Your funeral.”