Show Stopper: A Single Dad Bodyguard Romance

by Amy Brent

  “You said you wanted to be alone. How are you feeling by the way?”

  He was smart to change the subject.

  “Fine...kind of embarrassed.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Everyone was so drunk; no one probably even remembers what went down.”

  “I am sure Mark does,” I mutter under my last slurp of yogurt.

  “Well, Mark was being a dick last night, so don't worry about it.”

  I sigh and lay my head on the cold counter. It feels good against my warm face.

  “Aren’t you hung over?”

  “Girl, come on. Christian Sorin doesn’t get hang overs.”

  “Don’t talk in third person,” I scrunch my nose.

  “Why?”

  “It’s stupid.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. I love the way it sounds.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks getting out the carton of eggs, bread, and butter.

  “I just had a yogurt; so not really.”

  “Woah, don't overdo it on me, now.” He winks at me, and I about fall over. He is so handsome. He turns and faces the stove, cracking the eggs into a large bowl. I see his fingers wrap around the whisk, and his forearm flex has he beats the eggs. I start wondering if that's how his arm flexes if he was fingering me. I wish I could find out.

  He dumps the eggs onto a frying pan, and the sizzle sound fills the room. He pulls out a pack of bacon from the freezer and adds those to the heat. Soon the kitchen is filled with the delicious smell of cooking breakfast. When he is finished, he gets out two plates.

  “Are you sure you are full?”

  It smells and looks so good, I can’t say no. I shake my head.

  “I’ll have a little.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  He makes my plate and slides it in front of me over the island where I am sitting. He stands on the other side directly in front of me. I watch as he takes the first bite of eggs. His full lips wrap around the fork.

  “This is really good,” I say, taking a bite.

  “I am an expert cook,” he brags, swinging his fork in the air.

  “Since when?”

  He shrugs and laughs.

  “Don’t question such things. Your dad actually used to cook for us all the time. Did you know that?”

  “Dad used to cook?”

  Christian nodded.

  “All the time.”

  “He’s never done anything like that for me.” The thought of my father makes me lose my appetite. I poke the food around the plate. Christian cleans his in a matter of minutes.

  “Maybe, when he gets up. You should go in and talk with him about last night,” Christian suggests, placing the dishes into the sink.

  “I don’t know…”

  “I think it will make you feel better.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice…”

  He walks over then and wraps his large arms around my small body. My face presses into his bare chest. It feels so good. I close my eyes and breathe him in. He smells like peppermint and smoke.

  “It’ll be okay, Jasmina,” he softly whispers into my ear. I let out a long breath as his voice tickles my ear. He pulls away then.

  “How long are you staying here?” I ask.

  “Oh, I have to head into the office today. Should have been there twenty minutes ago.”

  “You should stay,” I beg, looking down at the ground.

  “I wish, pumpkin.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “I’ll see you later this week. I mean you’re done with school now, so we’ll be around more.”

  I nod and watch as he heads out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. I sit in the silence once again, and head back up into my bedroom. I should talk to my dad. Christian is right. It is never good to just leave these things open and not taken care of. Even though, I know Mark won’t be very receptive, it is the right thing to do. He will be up soon. He was never one to sleep in past noon. I slide my bathrobe off and jump into the shower.

  Once I am dry, I lay on my bed staring at my phone. I go to Ryan’s Facebook and flip through his pictures. There are none of Viviane, so they must not be that serious. I look her up, but everything is super private. I hear a knock on the bedroom door.

  “Jazzy?”

  It is Ryan. I pull the bed comforter over my naked body, but don’t respond. The door opens once again. Ryan walks in. I shut my eyes tight and pretend to be asleep. I didn’t want to talk to him right now.

  “Hey,” he whispers. He walks over to where I am laying in my disguise of sleep and rests a hand on my neck. He bends down and kisses my cheek.

  “I’ll see you around, baby girl,” he says softly. I try my best not move. He walks out and shuts the door. I lay there for a moment longer and then fall back asleep.

  I awake after a short nap. I stretch in the bed and tell myself to get up. I walk over the closet and throw on a light cotton dress, throw my hair up into a messy bun, and slowly open the door. I peak my head out and listen. If people were here they were gone. It was completely empty except for the low hum of my father’s television playing in the background.

  I walk down the hall and turn the corner. I hate going into his office. When I was younger, I was never allowed inside of it. My nannies were always give strict instructions to keep me away and out of it. Even now that I am twenty two, I have a sick feeling every time I go near it like a subconscious warning telling me not to go in there. I press my ear against the heavy oak door. I just hear the television playing. I knock lightly on the door.

  “Come in,” Mark’s voice commands through the wall.

  I put my hand on the brass handle and push down.

  “It’s locked,” I say. I hear him sigh and stand up. After a few seconds of fiddling with the handle, it opens, and I see Mark looking down at me.

  “Good afternoon, Jasmina,” he says coldly. The drapes are drawn over the window, and the television plays some action movie. He must be hung over. He sets a bottle of gatorade on the small coffee table and returns to his spot in the big chair. The office is large and full of books, most which pertain to all different sorts of medical theories and documentation. I have no clue if he has read any of them, but they still are a rather impressive collection.

  His tired eyes wander away from the television and then back at me standing silently in the doorway.

  “You can come in,” he coughs, taking a swig from his drink.

  “I wanted to talk about last night,” I say sheepishly. Where was my passion from last night? I take a step in and sit at the end of the couch.

  “I assume it is to apologize for you behavior.” His hand reaches down and picks up the remote. The sound of the TV goes mute, only casting its bright light onto us.

  “Well, kind of. I agree that I did not act very well, and I apologize -”

  “But?”

  “What do you mean but?”

  “There’s always a but with you.”

  I squint my eyes and frown. Why can’t he just accept the stupid apology? He always looks to make things worse, to poke and prod at every situation for no reason whatsoever.

  “You shouldn’t have been lying to your friends about me. It put me in an awkward situation.”

  “Why do you care. You hate them all anyway.”

  I pause for a second.

  “I care because it wasn’t the right thing to do!” My voice raises slightly. The deep creases on either side of his mouth appear when he frowns.

  “Do you really want to talk about what the right thing to do is after your little episode last night?”

  “I already apologized! And you were the one who caused it all?”

  “I caused this all?” his voice lowered.

  “Yes, by telling all of those people I was going to medical school when we both know that just isn't true.” I am trying my best not to cry. He is the only person who has that effect on me. I could care less about anyone else saying somethin
g, but not when it comes to Mark.

  “Do you know what the problem is? It’s not me, it's you. I wouldn’t have to lie if you weren’t such a fucking disappointment. I threw you an amazing party last night, and you couldn’t even say thank you once! Not once did I hear it come out of your mouth. You are so ungrateful.” He stands up over me, casting a dark shadow. “I have given you so much and you just choose to shit all over it!”

  “I’m twenty two! I am allowed to make my own decisions now. It’s my life!”

  “Oh! Okay? It’s your life?”

  “Yes!” I fold my arms and stare up at him.

  “Good. Fine. Then you can go live it. If you don’t want my input or to show me one measly ounce of respect than you don’t get to live here.”

  “Fine! I don’t want to live with you anyways!” I shout standing up at his level and staring him dead in the eyes.

  He takes a deep breath and sits back down with a sinister smile plastered across his face like he knows some big secret.

  “You think it’ll be so easy. You have no idea, princess.”

  I clench my jaw.

  “I wish mom was still alive and that I would have never have had to live with someone as selfish as you.”

  His dark eyes flicker up. I feel the fire and venom ooze out of them and sink into mine. He takes a long deep breath and faces the television. We stay frozen like that for several minutes.

  “You have until the end of the day to get out of my house.”

  I don’t wait to digest the conversation, instead I run out of the room and straight into my bedroom. I am far too angry for any tears. I rip my suitcase out of the closet and slam it on the bed. I shove all of my clothes into it.

  Once my clothes are packed, I haul the suitcase down the stairs. I see Mark standing in the staircase of his office, shaking his head.

  “Bye, Jasmina,” he waves, then turns back into the office slamming the door. I don’t give him much more thought. I pull out my suitcase and haul it down to my car. I open the trunk and throw it in. I know my dad has given me a lot of nice things, but that will never be a placeholder for a bad relationship.

  Luckily for me, my best friend's house is just a quick trip down the main road. She recently just moved home into a new apartment. A wise decision I should have copied, but I was trying to save up my money by living at home. Well, there goes that.

  I park my car and pull out my suitcase. I click the buttons on the call box in the lobby of the apartment complex. It rings several times, until I hear the door buzz and then unlock.

  “Who is this?” I hear buzz onto the intercom.

  “Lizzie, it’s me!”

  “Oh, hey girl!” she squeals.

  I roll my eyes , walk through the entrance, and make my way up the elevator. I have only visited her once before, but I can remember her room. It is on the eighth floor and the first door on the right. I knock, and it flies open. The crazy redhead throws her arms around me.

  “Chica! What’s up!”

  “I got kicked out,” I say under my breath. She pulls back her eyes are wide. Between work and just graduating , we hadn’t been able to spend much time together. Besides, Lizzie’s new boyfriend seems to take up most of her free time, but it is okay because I am just glad she is happy.

  “Wait, Mark finally kicked you out?” she asks slowly, taking it in. I shake my head slowly. I guess it is finally hitting me at the same moment.

  “Does this have to do with that grad party?”

  “Unfortunately,” I sigh, throwing my stuff on the ground and walking over to her fridge. I pull out a diet coke and begin sipping on it. “He was telling people that I was going to med school and all of this other shit.”

  “I wish I could have come. I would have told him to shut up for you,” she smiles. “Weren’t Ryan and Christian there?”

  Lizzie knew how much I cared about my dad’s best friends, but she had no idea about how much I wanted them.

  “Yeah, but it was weird. Ryan had this new girlfriend with him, and I haven’t seen either in a while.”

  “Damn, well...what’s your plan?”

  I shake my head.

  “I haven’t even thought that far. I just figured I would come here and clear my head.”

  “Totally! You are always welcome to stay here from time to time. I just can’t let you move in, because John is coming home from a vacation next week.”

  “Oh! I would never want to intrude on you two.”

  “You’re not intruding, Jaz,” she laughs. “But you for sure can stay and hang out for how much you need. I am here for you.”

  “Thanks, Lizzie.”

  Her small brown cat jumps out from under the coach and lands on top of my lap. I stroke his dark brown hair and pull him up close against my chest.

  “I’m going to take the next few days to find a job and get my own place,” I say, placing the cat back onto the floor.

  “Do you have enough money?” she asks.

  “Yeah...I’ve sold some art over the past couple of months and have a nice little emergency fund.”

  “That’s important,” she sighs. “John and I are trying to save up a little for us.”

  “Tell me, how is Prince Charming?” I ask. Her eyes light up instantly. I wonder what it is like to be able to gush over love. I have never had that feeling. My heart will only belong to two men I fear I may never have.

  Chapter 3

  I threw my fourth cup of coffee into the trash next to my desk. I lean back in the great leather chair. It is almost time for lunch. Why do I feel like I have nothing done today? Going over to Mark’s last weekend really did me in. I haven’t drank that much in - god knows when.

  Poor Jasmina, Mark really did a number with her. I glance down at my phone. The screen lets me know that I have five missed calls from some of my clients. I don’t understand people’s impatience, just wait. I’m a lawyer, not a wizard. These things take time and money. I scroll down through my texts. One from Mark appears in my inbox, saying that he kicked Jasmina out, boys night next week.

  He kicked Jaz out?! Jesus, and he wants to celebrate with a boys night. That’s not right at all. I rub my forehead and pull out a bottle of aspirin. I let the red pill rest on my tongue before I flip it back down my throat. I can’t believe how old Jasmina is now. It seems like yesterday she just finished high school, and damn, is she absolutely stunning. It was in college when I met Christian and Mark. We had such different visions for ourselves; we had no clue what the future had in store. Jasmina seems different. She is far more mature than we ever were.

  I look up at the painting she had made me when I moved into my current office downtown. It is an abstract painting of a scale to represent the justice system. It looks like a professional had made it, not a seventeen year old high school junior. I remember trying to pay her for it, but she insisted it was a gift. I feel a smile creep across my lips as I recall that day. And now she is all on her own. Might be good for her, but it's not like she was a huge problem child. If she was my daughter I would be the luckiest guy in the world, but it's a good thing I don’t have any kids. I would have raised little monsters. I am never home anyway. I don't even have any time for a real relationship.

  Grey clouds roll over the sun, dimming the natural light coming through the tall office windows. The city looks so small from up on the top floor. I slowly take off my suit jacket and slide it on the chair. It was hot outside today. Heat waves lifted off the highway and streets distorting the air around it like a hazy mask. Thank god, for air conditioning.

  The door opens and Beatrice Zedler, my kind and hard-working secretary pokes her head in.

  “Mr. Vallor?”

  “Hmm?” I respond to her, sitting back at my desk and facing the small woman. Her round green eyes look at me with the intensity that I hired her for. She is an attractive woman - huge tits, but no so much of an ass.

  “You asked me to remind you of your schedule a
t noon every day in person so you wouldn’t forget.”

  “Right, good - “ I wave my hand for her to continue.

  She looks down at notebook and then back at me.

  “You have a meeting with Mr. Dean Hartford about the Construction lawsuit at three. Another after that at four with Simon Derive.

  “Has Kevin finished that report for Simon?”

  “He has not given it to me yet.”

  “Then it won’t be done in time. Push the meeting back later this week. Thursday or Friday would be perfect.”

  “Alright. I will try for Thursday first.”

  Her pen scratches against the paper as she takes the notes. Her small mouth twists while she is writing. I stare at it. I wonder what it would be like to be with Beatrice, to feel her small body under mine. I am forty three, maybe too old for her. My eyes trace down her mouth to her thin neck, then to her large breasts. My cock becomes slightly amused by the idea.

  “Anything else?” I ask.

  “Uh, just a dinner engagement at 5:30 this evening with Miss Viviane. Are you still planning on meeting her at the Bistro on 42 street?”

  “Yes, yes. That’s fine.” I totally forgot about the dinner I have scheduled with her.