The body guard
560 Words
The world returned in fragments—first the sterile scent of antiseptic, then the sting of light against her eyes, and finally the low murmur of voices.
Stephanie forced her lids open. The ceiling above her was not the gilded ballroom but the cold white of a private clinic. Her head pounded. Her throat burned.
Her pulse surged with fury, not fear. Someone had tried to kill her. In her own city. At her own event.
She sat up, ignoring the dizziness, and found him.
The man from the balcony.
He stood in the corner, arms crossed, dark suit stretched across shoulders that didn’t belong to any waiter or guest. His eyes, nearly black, fixed on her with a steady intensity that stripped her bare.
“Where’s Andre?” she demanded, her voice sharp as broken glass.
“Your brother’s dealing with the press.” His voice was low, controlled, almost bored. “I’m dealing with the person who almost died.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You’re not my doctor.”
“No.” He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his presence a force. “I’m the reason you’re breathing.”
She hated the way her pulse responded—uneven, betraying her steel. “And who exactly are you?”
He stopped at the edge of her bed, looking down at her like a wolf deciding if she was worth the hunt.
“Darius Harrow. Security consultant. Your brother hired me.”
Stephanie laughed, soft and lethal. “My brother made a mistake. I don’t need a babysitter.”
Darius’ expression didn’t change. “You don’t need one. You need a shield. And right now, you don’t have anyone else who can keep you alive.”
She studied him—scar at his jawline, posture of a man who had seen war, eyes that missed nothing. Dangerous. Uncontrollable. Exactly the kind of man she’d vowed never to let near her empire.
Still, something in his voice unsettled her. He didn’t sound like a hired g*n. He sounded like a man who had already decided her life belonged to him.
She slid from the bed, ignoring the way her knees trembled, and walked toward the door. Her heels clicked against the tile. “Thank you for your… assistance, Mr. Harrow. But your services are unnecessary.”
His voice followed her, steel wrapped in velvet.
“They’ll try again. And next time, I won’t be there to catch you.”
She froze, fingers tight around the door handle.
For the first time in years, Stephanie Blakes felt something she despised more than weakness.
She felt the chill of not being in control.
And beneath it, whispering like a dangerous promise,came the thought that a stranger might be the only thing standing between her empire and ruin
Stephanie had not built an empire by bowing threats - no matter cowing their voices or how how broad their shoulders. Since her enemies wants her dead,she will give them a reason to regret missing the first shot.
Her reflection in the door's glass showed a pale face, shadows under her eyes,hair falling loose from its pins. The image of the woman wounded .She straightened, smoothing her hair back with deliberate calm.
When she opened the door,the buzz of voices swelled. the world was waiting and somewhere inside the noise,a killer was equally waiting.
- Writer
