The Bodyguard

by F F Perez

  He slipped his finger out of me and took a few steps back, leaving me quivering against the wall.

  “I’ll sign a prenuptial agreement if that will make you feel better,” he continued, his voice even and measured.

  I stared at him. He looked completely collected and sure of himself as if the last few minutes had never happened.

  “Well?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “I guess we’re getting married,” I whispered, collapsing into my desk chair.

  He nodded, satisfied, and I resisted the urge to throw something at him.

  Bastard, I thought. Two can play at this game, Lance Savage.

  I plotted my revenge on Lance the rest of the day as Jackson went over what I had missed over the last three months. It seemed William had been busy with more than just murder and assassins. He had tried selling off a giant chunk of our properties and backing out of important government contracts that would help bring the company to the next level and create dozens of jobs.

  “I don’t understand what his thought process was,” I snapped, throwing myself back into my chair.

  Lance looked up from the newspaper he was reading and raised an eyebrow. I scowled in his general direction but refrained from engaging him.

  “These contracts will cost us money in the short term,” Jackson answered patiently. “Over time, we will see a steady profit, but if we take on so many projects at once, we’ll see a dip in the numbers next quarter. The risk didn’t seem prudent to William.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t want to spend any more company money if he was hoping to gain access to all company funds in the near future.

  “Tell the board we’re going ahead with the contracts and to stop any plans to close properties. There will be no closing, no liquidating, and no backing out of contracts. This company will run as smoothly as it always has. My father’s death changes nothing.”

  Jackson nodded and turned to go.

  “Oh, and Jackson.”

  He turned an expectant look on his face.

  “Schedule meetings with the government officials and anyone else that William may have compromised. I get the impression my first few weeks will be about damage control.”

  Jackson nodded, looking pleased.

  Sighing, I slumped down in my chair and gazed out the large glass window.

  “You handled that remarkably well,” Lance commented from the corner.

  “You sound surprised.”

  He shrugged.

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m weak just because I cried in your arms earlier,” I hissed. “I am not weak, and nobody will destroy my father’s hard-won legacy.”

  “I never thought you were weak,” Lance replied. “You were in shock. It’s a normal reaction to seeing someone commit suicide right in front of you after trying to kill you.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to the window without answering.

  “Time for lunch,” he said from right behind me.

  The man had a way of walking like a shadow and it was becoming incredibly irritating. I stood and stretched, catching the appreciative glance Lance shot me. A wicked smile spread across my face as I realized I had a perfect opportunity at my fingertips. I walked by him, letting my hips sway seductively. He followed close behind me so that when I reached the door and turned abruptly, he ran into me with a curse.

  “What the hell?” he growled, regaining his balance.

  I trailed my fingers up his broad chest, shivering at the power and strength rippling under my fingers. Gazing up at him, I saw the moment his eyes darkened in desire.

  “I realized something,” I whispered, licking my lips.

  “What’s that?” he asked his voice hoarse.

  “I never properly thanked you for saving my life earlier,” I murmured, moving my hands up his chest and over his shoulders. Burying my fingers in his hair, I pulled his face down closer to mine, breathing in his intoxicating scent. I trailed my lips up his neck, resting them over his ear. “Thank you, Lance,” I whispered.

  Grasping the doorknob, I released him, jumping into the crowded hallway and rushing off to the elevators. I chuckled as I heard his curse behind me. After a few moments, he stomped after me into the hallway, looking murderous. I threw him an innocent look and even had the audacity to wink at him before stepping onto the elevator. He followed, giving me a dark look that promised retribution.

  Chapter Four: Lance

  She was trying to kill me. That was the only explanation I could think of. I took a moment to adjust myself below the belt before following Nancy out into the hall and onto the elevator.

  Her actions were a clear challenge and a desperate bid for control. She had just thrown down the gauntlet of seduction, and she was sorely mistaken if she thought I wouldn’t pick it up with relish. Nancy Corrigan had no idea what she was getting herself into, but I looked forward to showing her. After I told my father about my plan.

  I walked Nancy down to a small café and left her with three agents before walking off to make my phone call. My father picked up on the first ring, indicating how stressed he was about the whole situation.

  “What’s the update?” he asked his voice tense.

  I recounted the day’s events and the information Nancy had given me about her inheritance rights. I then told him my idea. He was silent for a few minutes.

  “It seems risky, but it could work,” he finally said. “You should tell people you met before today. Possibly at her father’s funeral.”

  “Sounds good,” I agreed.

  “And Lance? Keep me posted. I don’t want to have to hear from my agents that someone attacked my son in an elevator. Understood?”

  “Understood,” I said grimly.

  I hung up the phone and went to sit across from Nancy at the little table where she absently swirled a spoon in a bowl of soup. Motioning for the other agents to leave, I watched her for a few minutes before talking.

  “We should tell people we met at your father’s funeral three months ago,” I said quietly.

  Nancy looked up, startled. “Were you there?”

  I nodded. “Malcolm wanted to go as a show of support, and he asked me to join him.”

  I left out the part about Malcolm wanting me to go because I was his son. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell her. Maybe I wanted her to like me for who I was and not for my family name. It had complicated many relationships in my past, which was why I had been so adamant about changing my name before working within the company. I didn’t want the other agents to know who I was, either. A few did, but most just figured I was a new hire, ex-Special Forces. Most didn’t bother asking questions. They took their orders and moved on.

  “I don’t remember seeing you there,” Nancy said, frowning.

  “It was a hard day for you,” I replied with a small smile. “I think I can forgive the lack of recognition this once.”

  She rolled her eyes and bent over her soup. She scooped the hot liquid onto her spoon, blew on it, and then spooned it into her mouth. I watched, transfixed, remembering that day three months ago when I first saw her.

  She had looked beautiful, even in the depths of despair. Her brave façade had touched me in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was that echoing memory of courage and fear that had pushed me to accept this job.

  If I was being completely honest with myself, it was that memory of her standing alone and steady at her father’s grave that had pushed me to propose a fake marriage to her. But I wasn’t being honest with myself. Examining my deeper feelings had only ever gotten me into trouble, so I studiously ignored them. I chose to live in the here and now, burying any strong feeling deep inside me with the hope it would never surface. It seemed to be working so far.

  “So, we’ve known each other for three months?” Nancy confirmed, pushing her empty bowl to the centre of the table.

  “It will make things more believable,” I answered, squinting at the menu over the service counter.<
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  “Your little friends already bought you this,” Nancy said, pushing a sandwich my way.

  I raised an eyebrow at the “little friends” comment, but said nothing.

  “If we met at my father’s funeral,” Nancy continued between bites of her own sandwich, “wouldn’t that make me look a little, I don’t know, cold toward my father’s memory?”

  I suppressed a chuckle behind my sandwich. “So the story is that we fell into bed together that very night?” I asked, grinning.

  She threw a sugar packet at me. It hit me in the nose. Glaring at her, I threw it back, missing her by a few inches.

  “I’m just trying to get my story straight.”

  “How about we tell people we struck up a friendship that night, and I came by to check on you the next day? The romance came gradually,” I answered, smirking.

  Nancy raised an eyebrow. “You think people will buy that we were friends?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?” I asked defensive.

  Nancy snickered but refused to answer me.

  I threw another sugar packet at her, missing again.

  After lunch, I escorted Nancy back up to her office without incident. She finished several more meetings with board members and then made a marathon of phone calls trying to fix the damage that Jameson had done.

  The way she handled herself in what was, arguably, a man’s world mildly impressed me. She had a tenacity and strength that forced people to stop and take notice of her. I had certainly taken notice of her. She had captivated me from that cold rainy day when she buried her father, and she still captivated me now as she went head to head with some of the biggest names in the business world, refusing to back down because of her gender or age. I had no doubt that the world would know her name in just a few short years. She would carve out an identity for herself, an identity of her own making, rather than one backed by her family name.

  I envied her that. I had never successfully broken away from the Shieldman name; not until I had changed my last name to Savage had anyone given merit to my own accomplishments rather than those of my forefathers. Nancy had no such problems. She forced people to respect her and not her name.

  The sun had already sunk below the horizon when someone knocked sharply on Nancy’s office door. Nancy was on the phone but jumped at the sound, turning to me with wide, panic-filled eyes. Rising from my chair, I made it halfway to the door before it opened and a familiar woman walked through.

  “Lance, darling, how are you?” she asked, kissing my cheek.

  Nancy frowned.

  “I’m Elizabeth, Malcolm’s wife and business partner,” she called softly to Nancy who nodded and continued talking on the phone.

  I pulled my mother to the other side of the room as casually as possible. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  “Oh, calm down, Lance,” she whispered. “I’m not here to blow your cover, although how you’re going to get married to the girl without telling her who you really are is beyond me.”

  I glared at her.

  “If you thought I would miss my only son’s wedding, you are crazy,” she said, rolling her eyes at my expression.

  “It’s fake.”

  My mother pursed her lips and looked me up and down. “If you say so.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, exasperated.

  She shrugged and beamed at something over my shoulder. Whirling around, I came face to face with Nancy.

  “Everything okay?” Nancy asked hesitantly.

  “Of course,” my mother and I said in unison.

  Nancy raised an eyebrow.

  “Malcolm wanted me to help with your… wedding,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “He thought I could help make it look legitimate. He also wants me to gather whatever information I can about the whole situation. I’m adept sifting through the rumour mill.”

  I snorted, but both women ignored me.

  “What do you mean make it look legitimate? I figured we would just go down to the courthouse and sign the papers.”

  My mother looked scandalized. “Nobody will believe that! In order for this little charade to work, people need to believe you’re married, correct? It doesn’t have to be a big ceremony, but you need to have one.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Nancy mumbled.

  “Of course it does,” Elizabeth said, taking Nancy’s arm and leading her toward the door.

  I followed behind them.

  “First things first,” my mother continued. “We need to get you a dress. I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning. Say… eight o’clock? I know a few boutiques you’ll just love.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary—”

  “Don’t be silly,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Like I said, this wedding needs to look real.”

  She leaned over and gave Nancy a kiss on the cheek. “See you in the morning, dear.”

  Winking at me, she blew a kiss and then swept out into the hallway. Nancy and I stood in the doorway for a moment, looking anywhere but at each other.

  “Ready to go?” I asked, breaking the tense silence.

  “Yes,” Nancy mumbled.

  I led her to the elevator, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.

  Chapter Five: Nancy

  Silence echoed through the car on the ride home. Lance stared out the window, lost in thought, while I tried not to stare at him. This day had turned out to be a really strange one. I had almost forgotten about the stupid wedding idea while I had tried to undo the damage that William had done to the company during his three months in charge. I hadn’t forgotten about Lance, however. How could I? His brooding presence in my office had been magnetic and distracting.

  I tapped my pen nervously on the stack of papers I had brought with me and glanced over at Lance again. Except for the odd flash of light from oncoming traffic headlights that illuminated his face, he was cloaked in shadow. The darkness only increased his magnetism—which I had thought impossible.

  I tapped the pen faster, bouncing my heel to its distinct rhythm. Was he going to stay with me? What if Jameson was waiting for us at my house? Images of Jameson lying in wait flashed through my head. The flashes had a crime drama flair to them I would have found amusing in any other circumstances. That I found them even mildly funny right now only confirmed my suspicions: I was losing my mind.

  Lance reached over and placed his large hand over mine in a firm grip. I glanced down at our hands then back up at his face.

  “There are more pleasurable ways of making a car rock,” he growled, looking pointedly at my feet and hands.

  I blushed and slipped my hand out from under his. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Nervous habit.”

  “I make you nervous?” He smirked.

  “Oh yes,” I snapped, rolling my eyes. “My nerves have nothing to do with someone trying to kill me. Nope. It’s you and your caveman tactics that have me all atwitter.”

  He snickered. He actually snickered.

  “Who says atwitter?” he chuckled.

  “Bite me,” I huffed.

  He snatched my hand back into his and pulled me closer to him, making me squeak in surprise. His dark eyes bored into mine and his breath seared my skin. “I’ll do more than bite you, Nancy Corrigan. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your little challenge earlier. Now, let me make one thing clear. Someone may be trying to kill you, but they will not succeed. Not while I still draw breath. I’ve never failed a mission and I don’t plan on losing to a pampered bastard like William Jameson.”

  “Losing?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “This isn’t a game, Lance. It’s my life.”

  He lifted his other hand, trailing his knuckles across my cheek. His thumb traced my bottom lip, making me shiver as all the blood rushed to my core. His words of protection had excited me until he had mentioned his intent to win against William. That admission had felt like a slap to the face. I needed to remember that this wedding was a farce, the marriage was a farce, and as soon as they caught and conv
icted William, Lance would disappear from my life.

  Still, the traitorous part of my brain whispered. There’s no harm in having fun.

  This, of course, was not an accurate statement. Lance was what most people would call a heartbreaker, and my heart was in danger of being snatched up by him—snatched up and torn to little bits and then promptly stomped on. I needed to keep my distance and keep my head.

  “Life is a game, Nancy,” Lance whispered in my ear. “And I plan to keep you around long enough to play a few good hands with you.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I hissed, pushing against his hard chest, ignoring the muscles that rippled under my hand. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

  He laughed, low and seductive, before slipping his hand into my hair, grabbing a handful and pulling me toward him. His lips met mine with punishing force, chasing all coherent thoughts from my brain. When I sucked in a quick breath, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue between my lips and massage my tongue with his. I clutched the front of his shirt in my fists in a desperate attempt at anchoring myself. Wetness and heat pooled in between my legs as he trailed fiery kisses down my neck. My breath came in short pants with a low moan mixed in every few exhales.

  My passion-induced brain had enough awareness to demand I take a little control back. Throwing my papers to the floor, I slipped onto his lap, grateful for the partition separating us from poor Jim. With a snarl, Lance ripped my silk shirt open, buttons flying in every direction.

  I raised an eyebrow, my mouth quirking up on one side.

  “You were the one who called me a caveman,” he murmured, shrugging as he traced the line of my cleavage with a perfectly trimmed fingernail.

  I closed my eyes as a small whimper escaped my lips. His deft fingers reached around to unclip my bra, and my whimper turned into a moan as his mouth clamped down on one nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hard little bud, making me gasp, and pinched the other nipple in between his thumb and forefinger. I felt his cock twitch against me, reminding me I had my own battle to wage.