webnovel

Sexy Bodyguard

hahha.. whos cares you date your bodyguard. It was the one rule he had to break. Max Hale is a force of nature. A ship unwilling to be steered. Headstrong, resilient, and wholly responsible — the twenty-two-year-old alpha billionaire can handle his unconventional life. By noon, lunch can turn into a mob of screaming fans. By two, his face is all over the internet. Born into one of the most famous families in the country, his celebrity status began at birth. He is certified American royalty. When he’s assigned a new 24/7 bodyguard, he comes face-to-face with the worst case scenario: being attached to the tattooed, MMA-trained, Yale graduate who’s known for “going rogue” in the security team — and who fills 1/3 of Max's sexual fantasies. Twenty-seven-year-old Farel Keene has one job: protect Max Hale. Flirting, dating, and hot sex falls far, far out of the boundary of his bodyguard duties and into “termination” territory. But when feelings surface, protecting the sexy-as-sin, stubborn celebrity becomes increasingly complicated. Together, boundaries blur, and being exposed could mean catastrophic consequences for both.

ilham_suhardi · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
23 Chs

chapter 15

My head whips to the storefront. Hoards of young excitable girls push against the glass door. I'm talking enough bodies to flood the sidewalk and trickle into street parking.

I stand up, muscles constricted. "Our location got leaked." Already. Jane and I don't draw crowds like we're a band at Coachella unless people post about us.

Janie starts scrolling through a Twitter feed. "…it looks like a fan tweeted that they saw the paparazzi outside the bakery."

"Did they post the address?"

"Oui." Yes.

"Great," I say dryly, and I take my phone out of my pocket. A few cameramen flocked the area when I first parked my car. I don't mention them every time I see one. It's like pointing out the grass, cement, or the damn sky. They're scenery to my world. Always there. Always present.

And sometimes fucking up my day.

"Back up!" Farell shouts through the glass. Girls keep trying to yank open the locked door. Some pound on the windows. For as severe as his voice sounds, Farell looks unconcerned by the growing masses. He grips the handle to keep the door from jerking against the lock.

Quinn yells at the fans to leave too. But my gaze is tethered to Farell. I sweep his relaxed six-foot-three build, his supreme composure—all in the face of a high-stress situation.

Farell turns slightly, keeping his hand on the door. And with one quick glance, his eyes touch my eyes.

Before he reads my expression, I rotate completely. I rub my sharpened jaw.

My phone vibrates in my palm. I see the names Luna and Kinney, my two sisters, and I read the incoming texts.

Max!!!!!! Xander won't leave the house :'((( – Luna

I told him nothin' bad will happen, but he saw his name trending on Twitter – Kinney

And #PhillyBakery – Luna

I text: it's not that crowded here.

Don't lie. – Xander

I rapidly text: I'll be by your side when you walk in. I promise. I won't let anyone touch you.

No response yet.

I look up. Farell is watching me. I follow his precise fingers that touch a small, slender mic attached to his black V-neck collar. The microphone's wire runs up to his earpiece and then down to a radio that's clipped on his waistband.

All security wear coms, but if he's touching the mic, it means he's actively talking to other bodyguards right now.

"Are they bailing?" Jane asks as she sidles next to me.

"Probably." If Xander stays at home, it means his anxiety is through the roof. Luna and Kinney will want to keep him company.

I try one last thing and text: I'll distract the crowds when you come. I want to add that I'd kill for him. I'd move mountains and rip through stone. I'd do anything to ensure my little brother's safety. So I type: I'll take a bullet for you. I'll do any fucking thing. Just get here.

I press send.

After a long pause, my phone buzzes.

It won't work. It never works. – Xander

My muscles bind. I flash the text to Janie. "This'll be two weeks that he hasn't left the house." My parents try not to hound him about the isolation unless it reaches one month. It adds to his anxiety, they say. But staying cooped up for weeks on end isn't goddamn healthy either.

Jane frowns. "Next time, we should pick him up first."

I nod in agreement.

******

"Alpha to Farell." A strict male voice blares in my eardrum. I scrape late-night scrambled eggs out of my pan and into a ceramic bowl. In the kitchen of my townhouse, I toss the frying pan into the sink, lagging on replying to Price. The forty-something stern Alpha lead keeps acting like I'm still a part of SFA.

I'm on SFO.

And I don't take orders from anyone. What I will do: listen to Akara's orders and decide whether I want to follow them or not.

"Alpha to Farell," Price snaps.

I lean on the counter and eat my eggs at a leisurely but naturally quick speed. The oven clock blinks 11:23 p.m.—I've been home for less than twenty minutes. Enough time to piss, shower, and crack a few eggs. Three weeks into my new role and I'm already used to Max's fast-paced lifestyle.

He jam-packs his days, and his plans constantly change depending on paparazzi, family in need, and the hundred employees he manages at H.M.C. Philanthropies. Most security on his detail would be whiplashed, but his high-stress, hectic schedule reminds me of doing rounds at the ER.

I eat and breathe every second like it's candy.

What surprises me the most: he hasn't gone to a single nightclub or bar yet. He was the one who said it'd be happening "soon" but he's been stalling. I don't ask why because I'd rather not pressure him to fuck someone. When he's ready, he'll be ready—and I'll have to keep him safe.

It's what I focus on.

"Alpha to Farell, Alpha to Farell," Price repeats harshly a few more times.

I should only be hearing Omega to Farell. I touch my mic. "Farell." Let's hear what he has to say. I eat a scoop of eggs, alone in the kitchen since my only roommate is sleeping. Jane's bodyguard, Quinn, hasn't grown accustomed to the strange hours yet. As soon as Jane headed in for the night, he practically passed out upstairs—despite my best effort to suggest grabbing a quick meal first.

Bodyguard 101: eat when you have a free second 'cause you never know when you'll find another chance.

Through my earpiece, Price says, "You need to ask Max about the annual Charity Camp-Away. We've heard rumors that he plans to open the event to the public this year, and the security team needs confirmation. Don't take long." The radio quiets.

Opening a controlled, private event to the public creates major security risks. Ones that I'd never ignore. But Max has the power to do whatever he wants with the Charity Camp-Away. Not only as the CEO, but he built the highly praised and promoted December event years ago.