My Alpha, My Bodyguard

6.1 Marcus

Marcus couldn't help but watch her leave, his eyes lingering on the graceful sway of her brightly coloured dress as she made her way up the stairs, limping ever so slightly. Vivienne's allure was undeniable, a magnetic pull that had grown stronger with each passing hour. He sighed inwardly, torn between the desires of his heart and the boundaries that their unfortunate circumstance had imposed upon them. His enhanced senses caught every subtle detail—the soft padding of her footsteps over the carpeted floor, the almost imperceptible creak of her bedroom door as it opened. Marcus listened until those sounds faded into the distance, signalling her grateful retreat into the sanctuary of her room.

Finally tearing his gaze away, the shifter refocused on his job. Protecting Vivienne was his priority, his duty, and he couldn't afford to let his own personal feelings cloud his judgment when her wellbeing was on the line. A sneer curled across his lips as his eyes landed on his mobile phone. First things first, Marcus had to report everything to Mr. Hardison—Liam. Vivienne's husband.

The very thought of the man sent a rush of pure hatred cresting down his spine, a visceral reaction to a man he loathed with every fiber of his being. It was a familiar emotion, but one he hadn’t felt in a long time, and in such a concentrated dose. It wasn't just the way Liam had mistreated Vivienne, though that alone was enough to ignite Marcus's fury to new heights. It was the callousness with which he flaunted his infidelity, as though he were entitled to some twisted medal for his shameless betrayal of her goodness. The way he took advantage of her talents and made her dependent on him, as though a rose like her wouldn’t flourish without him.

Marcus remembered the man he used to be, a man in service to the Romaniello Family, a man who had faced and eliminated threats without hesitation. In those days, he had been unflinchingly ruthless, nothing more than a unstoppable wall of hot steel and claw who would stop at nothing to ensure the safety and well-being of those under his care. Were he that man, Liam would have been dealt with swiftly and without remorse.

But now, Marcus was a different person. He had chosen to be a different man, one that was bound by new allegiances and by a promise to protect and serve, even when it meant setting aside the seething anger that surged within him. Still, he had seen Vivienne's tears, had felt the weight of her despair, and it gnawed at him, the helplessness of being unable to do more.

Protecting Vivienne was his unwavering priority, his solemn duty etched into the very core of his being, but how was he supposed to do that when his employer was also a threat? When his own snarling need to touch and consume her existed as well?

I might be as bad as he is, Marcus thought sardonically. As he contemplated the reality of their situation, a turmoil of emotions raged within him. Vivienne was an exquisite vision of youth, beauty, and vibrancy. Barely in her 20s, and with a flourishing acting career and a voice that made angels weep. All of these were qualities that seemed to shimmer like an unattainable mirage before his wrinkled, world-weary eyes. She deserved a nice young man, someone closer to her age who could offer her a future full of laughter, shared dreams, and the uncomplicated joys of youth. There was no way that he could deny the age gap that separated them, a decade and more. A few more years and he would be certifiably old enough to be her father.

Marcus clenched his jaw, the internal conflict tearing at him like a storm tearing through the sky. He yearned to be the one who cared for her, who made her smile and brought happiness to her life, but he also knew that such desires were futile. Vivienne deserved someone who could be more than just a hired protector. She deserved someone who could share her dreams and aspirations in a way that he never could.

With a heavy sigh, Marcus forced himself to carry out his duty. Grabbing his phone, the bodyguard dialled the number of Mr. Hardison's personal mobile – which had been included on the job application as part of the required information – his scowl darkening with each unanswered ring. It was as if fate itself had conspired against him in his efforts to reach the man he held in such disdain, and at such an inopportune time. After several fruitless attempts, he finally decided to call Mr. Hardison's office phone, a deep frustration simmering within him with every hum of the dial tone.

Thankfully, this time the call was answered by a secretary, her voice carrying an uncomfortably chipper tone of professionalism. "Good afternoon, this is Hardison Talents Agency. How may I assist you?"

Marcus clenched his jaw, his patience wearing thin, but he managed to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "I need to speak with Mr. Hardison immediately. It's a matter of utmost urgency."

There was a brief pause before the secretary replied in an eerily practiced tone, "I'm sorry, but Mr. Hardison is currently out of the office with a client. He won't be available until later this evening. May I take a message?"

The offer to leave a message hung in the air like a cruel joke, and Marcus felt a surge of anger rise within him. He wanted to lash out, to hurl insults at the man who had callously abandoned his wife when she needed him most, but it wasn’t as if Liam Hardison was present to hear exactly what sort of lowlife Marcus thought that he was.

With a deep breath, Marcus forced himself to speak, his voice sharp and determined. "Tell Mr. Hardison it's Marcus Riviera on the line. It's urgent, and it concerns his wife’s safety."

A brief pause, followed by the secretary's response which was nothing more than a bland repetition of her previous message, delivered in a stiff and rehearsed tone, as if she were reading from a script. "I apologize for the inconvenience Mr. Riviera, but Mr. Hardison is still currently unavailable. However, you are welcome to leave a message, and he will get back to you as soon as he can."

The words struck Marcus like a slap in the face, and it suddenly became painfully clear exactly why Liam was perpetually ‘unavailable.’

Really? The day after your wife was threatened by a stalker, you’re getting your c**k sucked while she could have been blown up?!

Suppressing his anger as best as he could, Marcus replied curtly, "No message. Just inform him that I called."

Marcus dropped the call with a sense of bitter frustration. It seemed he would have to wait until whenever Liam Hardison decided to be free and bestow them with a moment of his time so that he could convey the urgency of the situation to the man directly. Deep inside, the fires of anger and resentment burned hotter, a testament to the depths of Marcus's abject loathing for the man who had callously forsaken his wife's well-being.

Marcus’s fingers itched with the urge to do…something, something to release the violent energy roiling within him. Were he back in his cabin with all his exercise equipment and the full expanse of the woods, he would have gone outside to lift weights or punch one of the thicker oak trees strong enough to withstand his strength. Unbidden, the image of Vivienne curled up invitingly amongst her soft bedsheets swept into his mind, and he forced it away quickly.

Dangerous.

While he simmered with irritation over Liam's absence, Marcus knew he couldn't let it consume him. Instead, he channeled his energy into a more constructive endeavour: making sure that Vivienne had a decent meal to lift her spirits when she woke up. He called a local place that served rich, filling soul food.

The wait for the food seemed interminable, each passing minute heightening his impatience. Finally, after over an hour, there was a knock on the door, and Marcus hurried to answer it. He returned to the dining area with a several Styrofoam takeout containers of food, their tantalizing aroma filling the dining area in seconds.

It was as he was setting up the dining table with the various dishes that Vivienne descended the stairs, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She rubbed the remnants of slumber from her eyes and yawned, her senses awakening to the mouthwatering scent that enveloped the room. Her gaze fell upon the spread, and her tired expression transformed into one of sheer delight.

"Is that…macaroni and cheese?" she asked, her voice tinged with eager disbelief as she approached the table.

Marcus couldn't help but smirk at her obvious excitement, putting down one of the plates to gesture for her to take a seat. "You guessed it," he replied, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "But that's not all."

Curiosity piqued; Vivienne placed her hands on her hips with an amused chuckle. "Really? What else did you order?"

With a playful gleam in his eye, Marcus answered, "Well, let's just say I ordered almost everything on the menu."

Vivienne’s eyes bulged and then she laughed, the sound a melodic note in the room. "Everything? It sure looks like it,” she said, eying the mass of white nylon bags and the length of receipt ribboning out from one of them. “That’s so much food, though. You must be planning to save some for later."

Marcus, however, responded with a perfectly serious tone, his eyes locking onto hers. "You think so?" He hummed. "It looks about normal for me. I could eat the whole thing, including your portion."

For a moment, Vivienne was caught off guard by his surprisingly earnest response to her words, and then she burst into laughter once more. It was a shared moment of lightness and camaraderie, and in that moment – as they sat down to enjoy a hot meal together – the world outside seemed a little less daunting. Here there was no Liam, no stalker, it was just him and Vivienne.

Almost unconsciously, Marcus pushed the take-out container of crab macaroni and cheese in front of Vivienne, revealing the tantalizing sight of the dish. The golden-brown crust on top was a masterpiece of culinary artistry, promising a satisfying crunch of toasted breadcrumbs and baked cheese with every bite. If love was a real food ingredient, then it had to exist somewhere in that meal. Love or a concerning amount of butter. One or the other.

Steam rose gently from the creamy cheese sauce, carrying with it the rich aroma that was the epitome of a guilty pleasure. The macaroni noodles were perfectly cooked, their tender texture contrasting with the slight resistance of the succulent crab meat that had been delicately folded into the dish. The cheese, an indulgent blend of cheddar and Monterey Jack, coated every morsel, its creamy embrace a decadent symphony of flavors.

Lips parted, Marcus watched with anticipation as Vivienne took her first bite, the fork sinking into the noodles before emerging with a generous portion of stringy cheese and penne clinging to the fork alongside strands of crab meat intertwining with the sauce and pasta. He licked his lips as Vivienne closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the bite with her, grinning when a moan of absolute pleasure echoed in her throat.

“That good, huh?” He couldn’t help but ask, and the woman pouted at him.

“Eat your food, and leave me alone,” she mumbled, shoving another spoonful of macaroni into her mouth.