by Mackenzy Fox
There’s a huge four-poster king-sized bed donned with pinned back sheer curtains, a soft-looking comforter, and about a million pillows arranged this way and that. The color is prominently soft pinks with grey hues, the wallpaper is shiny and in some kind of shabby chic French pattern, you can tell someone of interior design quality had a hand in all of this. It’s not my style but it does strangely suit her.
My mouth goes dry as I imagine her in bed.
“This is my room and ensuite,” she declares, waving a hand out. “There are balconies off each bedroom and the lounge room.”
The bathroom is large, a huge oval bath with gold trim takes up most of the space and I don’t need to imagine her naked in there while I’m at it. I internally slap myself stupid.
Her walk-in robe is as big as my first apartment; I’ve never seen so many bags and shoes. It’s like a designer store took up residence in there.
“You have a lot of… stuff.”
She looks pleased by my disgust.
“Thanks, I have a gold medal in shopping.” She slides into some, no doubt, designer slippers.
“You should call Louis Vuitton, he may want some of his shit back for fashion week,” I counter, eyeing a whole row of designer bags on the top shelf. Every bag under the sun it seems. Why do women need so much shit? Isn’t one purse enough to carry all your crap in?
Hundreds of thousands of dollars sit there eyeing me.
This is how billionaire rich kids live.
“Yes, well, somebody has to keep the economy going.” She shoves past me and I get a waft of her scent, I don’t know what it is but it’s floral and feminine like her, and very arousing. It does nothing to suppress the fire inside me and that annoys me the most. I should not be having these thoughts. I work for her and nothing more. I’m her bodyguard and she hates me. Period.
“You got any monitors in here?” I ask as I walk back out to the main living area.
“Just the one in the corridor.” She nods towards the front door as I notice a small screen on the wall so she can see who’s coming and going. “I have alarms too on all windows and doors.”
It is definitely like Fort Knox up in here, she wasn’t kidding about that. With that weird stalker incident almost a year ago, it seems things have amped up tenfold. You can’t even get in the front door without key card access or knowing the doorman, obviously, things were different then.
I nod. “Good. Well, I appreciate the grand tour, you know where I am if you need me, speaking of which, I’ll send you my number.” I pull out my phone from my back pocket.
She narrows her eyes at me as we both hear her purse buzz a moment later.
“How did you get my number?” she questions as if it would be hard in everyday normal life. But nothing is normal in this transaction, nothing at all.
“Your father is a very forthcoming man,” I tell her, no need to add he had to practically beg to get me here and pay me handsomely to ensure victory. He is a very persuasive man; I wonder how the apple fell so far from the tree. The only thing persuasive about Morgan is her desire to have me leave. “Speaking of which, I’ll be needing a list of all your work colleagues, associates, and clients that come and go from the building, we can discuss that tomorrow.”
She shakes her head. “Is that really necessary?”
Of course, things have changed for her and I get that it is a stiff pill to swallow, but this is for her own good. I also don’t really like the way Mac did things, truth be told. It’s half-hearted and not how I do things.
For a man as powerful as John James, he should have more security.
He’s rich, he’s known to be a tyrant in business, he has enemies, and those are the people that can hurt you the most or hurt what you love the most.
Maybe it’s because I’m an ex-green beret and I spent a lot of my early career in the military, but I do things a certain way.
My way.
I take full control.
I take no prisoners.
And Morgan James is no exception.
I ignore the question. “Ground rules.”
She shakes her head. “You aren’t kidding about that?”
“Does it look like I’m a kidder?”
She wrinkles her nose and I try not to laugh.
“Tomorrow,” I say. “I can sense you’ve had a big day.”
“Thank you for noticing,” she quips.
I begin walking towards the door. “I’ll see you bright and early then,” I holler over my shoulder.
“Can’t wait!” she chimes in a fake voice, sounding anything but riveted.
I can almost imagine her giving me the middle finger behind my back; I can’t say I blame her if she did. I am an asshole after all.
“Goodnight, MJ.” I can’t help but to have the last word, it’s in my nature.
I don’t know for certain but I’m sure I hear her tell me to fuck off.
I chuckle as I close the door behind me, wondering what tomorrow will bring. I’m sure none of it will be good.
6
Morgan
I toss and turn all night and hardly sleep a wink, which isn’t like me. Insomnia normally only strikes when I’m either stressed about work or my non-existent love life—this is neither and I know exactly what the problem is but I can’t do anything about it.
I called Dixie last night and gave her the real rundown on the whole situation. Dixie and I didn’t go to school together so she doesn’t know anything about Jaxon or anything about that time in my life, so she’s less likely to be judgey.
The fact I even tried to apologize to him makes me want to shudder. I mean, it isn’t like he cares. He’s mean, controlling, and too big for his boots.
Maybe he thinks he’s some kind of lady killer now, and he probably is, but that’s no excuse to purposely make my life a living hell. Well, I’ve got news for him and it’s all bad.
I’m the one in charge here, not him.
He might be able to think he can boss me around and poke his nose into my business where it’s not wanted because my father is paying him, but he’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m disrupting my life or my schedule. Screw his ground rules, I’ve got ground rules of my own and he better live up to them or I’ll just have him fired.
I smile at the thought.
I also smile that I’ve got a girl’s weekend coming up with Dixie and a couple of my other friends, Gemma and Imogen. It’s long overdue and I sadly haven’t been out in ages. I just hope Jaxon enjoys hanging around wine bars and looking like a serial stalker while we enjoy ourselves and have a good time because that’s exactly what’s going to be happening.
More to the point, it’s kind of embarrassing having to explain him to everyone and why security is now following me around everywhere I go.
There seems to be no point arguing with my father because he will just see it as me being bratty and further my torture. The sooner this all goes back to normal, the better. Bad shit can happen but I can’t live my life walking on eggshells.
At seven-fifteen in the morning, there is a knock at my door. I pick Jezzy up as she’s purring near my feet and go to the monitor.
It’s him.
I roll my eyes before opening the door, I’ve no idea how he knows what time I leave for work. Seems Mr. Stealth Mode knows everything about me.
“You’re early,” I accuse, blocking his way. Well, he doesn’t need to come inside.
He takes up all of the room in the doorway and I do not linger my eyes on his perfectly cut navy suit and crisp white shirt, it’s buttoned up most of the way and he looks about as damn fine as a man can get. His hair is slightly damp from his shower and he smells like a goddamn dream. And it’s then I realize I’m staring.
“Morning to you too, how’s my favorite girl this morning?” He looks at Jezzy and strokes the side of her face with his knuckle, clearly meaning her. Asshole.
“I’m not actually quite ready,” I say, not waiting for him to correct me. Stick
that in your pipe and smoke it. “So, you’ll have to wait.”
“That’s alright,” he replies coolly. When I don’t step aside, he tilts his head. “Am I allowed to come in?”
Oh, it seems some of his manners have returned, maybe he just needed a good night’s sleep.
Next, he’s going to want me to make him his coffee and whip up some pancakes while I’m at it.
I let out a loud annoyed sigh as I walk back to the kitchen and drop Jezzy down as he follows behind me. Annoyingly, she goes straight over to him and he crouches to pat her. Traitor. I leave them to their new-found romance to go and finish getting ready for work.
Having him here is just weird, it’s making me more nervous by the minute because all I’m doing is getting in the elevator and then into my car and going to work for Christ’s sake. I’ve done it a million times.
I pull my pumps on that match my dark pink blouse and check my appearance in the mirror. I look like crap because of my lack of sleep but I’ve enough shape tape on under my eyes to make it seem like I had eight solid hours so no one will be any wiser. I keep my hair long and past my shoulders, the color changes like the seasons, but at the moment, it’s a honey blonde with highlights. If my hairdresser ever left New York, I’d have to follow her wherever she went, even to Cleveland.
My cell rings, I glance at it and see Jolie’s face appear as the caller.
I shrug my fitted jacket on as I answer.
“Morning, Jolie.”
“Hey, Morgan, just got a call from Montgomery and Finch about today’s meeting, they want to move it up to nine-thirty, is that going to work for you?”
“Crap,” I say, walking back into the lounge as I notice Jaxon is still where I left him and Jezzy has disappeared. He’s standing stoic in the hallway with his hands clasped behind his back—at least he isn’t helping himself to nosing around my apartment while I’m not looking.
“What’s the rush?” I reply, still shrugging the other arm into the sleeve.
Jolie sighs. “Didn’t say, it’s Monday I suppose, expect nothing less, right?”
Great, awesome start to the day but I need to land this account, it could mean expanding the business and I have to do everything I can to make it happen, but now I’m under pressure and slightly unprepared. I glance at my watch, shit! It’s already seven-thirty.
“I’m on my way, confirm the meeting, I’ll see you when I get there.”
“I’ll have a caramel café latte waiting,” she chimes.
“Thanks, Jolie, make it a double.” I end the call and dump the phone into the front pouch of my purse.
Jaxon watches me with an expressionless face.
I wonder if I should ask him if he plans on standing there all day watching me get ready but I refrain, I’m already in a foul mood.
“I’ll need a copy of your daily schedule,” he tells me out of the blue.
Good morning to you too.
“Sleep well?” I ask, ignoring him.
God, I need coffee and now I’m running late.
His brow furrows at my question.
“Considering I’m in a strange apartment in a strange bed in a part of town I’m not familiar with, I slept just fine, thank you,” he replies. He seems very serious this morning, no trace of that smirk he sports so well.
“What’s on the agenda today?” I ask, still stuffing things into my bag. I try to make it sound like I care, which I don’t, but I still need a head’s up on what his plans are to snoop which I’m sure is high on his agenda.
“I’ll need that schedule and then meet with all your staff and do a thorough tour around the office floor space, that should suffice for the moment.”
I’d like a thorough tour of beating his pretty face in with my fists.
“You’re not going to hang around at work, are you?” I frown suddenly. “Like all day?”
Suddenly, horror creeps into my very being. Mac would normally escort me to work from the foyer and then I wouldn’t see him until I finished work for the evening.
“For part of the day, yes, that’s the job I’m being paid for after all.” His sarcasm isn’t lost on me. It seems someone took their grumpy pills this morning, which only fuels my own bad mood.
“But I’m at work,” I argue. “There is perfectly good security downstairs, you need to get screened through them first, plus have an appointment, then have a pass for the elevators.”
He just stares at me, unmoving. “That may be so, but all of that is irrelevant to me, I do this my way and the less back-chat I get, the better it will be.”
I stop my rummaging in my purse and stare right back at him. “What gives you the right to talk to me like that?” I stammer.
“Didn’t you say you’re running late? Don’t want to keep those clients waiting.”
I grab my over-stuffed purse and my rose gold briefcase with all my documents for my impending meeting and stalk past him.
Fine. If he wants to make this harder than is necessary, that’s just dandy, I can play hardball too, he’s only got himself to blame for my hostility. Like Monday morning isn’t bad enough, now this shit.
We make it to the elevator without me tossing my shoe or my briefcase in his face and ride the extremely long and nauseating way down in absolute silence.
I have no doubt this is going to be the longest day of my entire life.
“Holy shit balls,” Jolie says, eyeing Jaxon up from inside my office. Luckily, the clear windows and doors are soundproofed. Now is probably not the best time in the world to admit the design may have been a faux passé. “That’s the new bodyguard?”
“If you can call him that,” I reply, barely able to keep the contempt out of my tone. “He’s also a giant jerk truth be told.”
She gawks openly as his back is to us as he stands outside the door, talking to some of the staff around the office. Mac was discreet. There isn’t anything discreet about Jaxon, he’s up in your face and all over the place. Everyone thinks he’s cool but that’s only because they don’t know him and what a pain in the ass he is proving to be. Looks can be deceiving, people.
I also don’t like the fact he’s out there causing a stir, it’s hardly productive for the staff—all females I might add.
“Wow. He’s also a giant babe.”
“Don’t let that fool you,” I grumble into my coffee. “All I know is my father has a lot to answer for, he’s off my Christmas list, and birthday list, and Father’s Day.”
“Remind me to thank him later,” she says sweetly.
I glance at her over my reading glasses and she pretends not to notice.
Unfortunately, most of New York has the daggers out. My father is a well-known billionaire businessman, and it has me a little worried about why Jaxon is really here. I’m not foolhardy enough to believe that this is just a precaution, but I don’t honestly understand what’s going to happen to me at work. My father has made everything in my life a well-oiled machine.
I can’t let Jolie and my staff feel rattled, though they seem far from that as Jolie stares at him openly gawking. Just what I need, her lusting after my bodyguard.
I clear my throat. “If we can all keep a clear head and focus on our work instead of being distracted by the shiny new toy, then it’ll be like he’s not even here.”
Here’s to wishful thinking. He’s a distraction already and it’s been half an hour, this won’t do.
Jolie openly baulks at me then giggles. “Yeah, he’s a little hard to miss.”
My gaze meets the web designer Taylor’s eyes through the window and her eyes go round. She mouths oh my God when Jaxon isn’t looking, he’s too busy being chatted up by the girls from the design team to notice. I’ve a good mind to go and scatter them all away like a mother hen so they can get back to work.
Oh, boy. I don’t know how any of the girls around here are going to get any work done; they’re all surrounding him like moths to a flame.
“Well, he’s proving to be a giant thorn in my
side,” I retort because it’s true. I don’t have to be completely shut off from Jolie, we’re friends, and she can read me like a book so there’s no point in lying.
“He has a nice ass, that’s all I know,” she remarks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be fooled by aesthetics, he’s obnoxious and annoying, and apparently now he’s living next door to me.”
Jolie glances back at me. “You are the luckiest son of a gun in the universe; I don’t know why you have a face like you just sucked on a lemon,” she quips. “If my dad hired him to be at my beck and call, I’d kiss his feet for the rest of my life.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know how you fathom ‘lucky,’ I went to school with this guy and believe me, there’s no love lost between us and I’m sad to say it seems nothing has changed.”
“Does he do house calls?” she laughs, oblivious to my dismay; she bites her lip in thought, pushing her chunky pink glasses back up her nose.
“That’s disgusting, Jolie.”
“You should not have a bodyguard that looks like that, Morgs, and if I had one, I’d definitely be trying to give him some…”
“Jaxon,” I say, clearing my throat as he knocks on the door but barges right on in before I can give the okay.
He nods once as I raise my eyes expectantly as if to say; yes, what do you want now?
He’s holding a piece of paper. “Jolie, right?” he questions, pointing it in her direction, his upturned half-smile is panty melting and I watch as Jolie literally disappears into the chair. I’m surprised she doesn’t fall over onto the floor and melt in a puddle. He strides towards her oozing Mr. Confident, holding out an outstretched hand.
Smooth, very smooth.