Potential Enemy

C A M I L L Aᥫ᭡

I GRUNT, blocking Stephan's lazy attempt to defeat me. I need to win this game; my pride depends on it. Not that my life depends on it, but I don't want a bodyguard, especially after having guards tail me everywhere except the ladies' room. I crave a breath of fresh air, but Stephan, my maniac secretary, won't let me. Stephan has served my grandfather since his teenage years and now, in adulthood, has pledged loyalty to me. He's a great guy, but I'll never admit it.

"I win, and you hire him; I lose, and we drop the bodyguard issue," he proposed earlier, and I agreed, confident in my fencing skills. "Eso es tutto lo que puedes hacer, Stefan?"(Is that all you can do, Stephan?) I taunt, dodging his sword with ease. I'm not Italian, but Stephan is, and I enjoy using Italian in our conversations - just to pull his legs.

"Good morning," a deep, smoky British accented voice greets, and I foolishly turn to identify the owner - a dude dressed in a sleek black suit, showcasing his biceps like a model.

But he looks oddly familiar. I don't recall hiring him or inviting any business partners today; he can't be the bodyguard, can he? In a flash, Stephan strikes, winning the game, and I barely notice until he bursts into maniacal laughter. "I win, you're going to hire him!" he says, his voice laced with mockery.

Reality slowly dawns on me - this is all his fault. If he hadn't appeared out of nowhere, I wouldn't have been distracted. I furiously approach him, my heart racing with anger, my fists clenched. "You did this!" I yell. He looks around, feigning innocence, and I hate liars. Unstrapping my mask, I throw it at him, and he catches it effortlessly. "Nice job," Stephan compliments, and I remember he's still there.

"Get out, Stephan, and don't say another word!" I growl, and he retreats into the house. Good. "Now, as for you... Did you get lost or something? Why did you have to come here at this particular time? Did Stephan pay you to distract me?" I demand, but get no response. He's just there, staring with an unreadable expression.

"Are you even listening?" I sneer.

"Pardon, I—"

"Save it! Do you understand how much that game meant to me? You just ruined it!"

The more I say it, the angrier I get. "Well, excuse you... I did nothing; I only greeted you, and you lost focus—"

"Oh really? A fun way of admitting you're a deadbeat straight-up jerk!"

"Alright, fine, I'm sorry," he apologises, and I'm taken aback. I never expected an apology or anything. I never expected anyone to apologise to me, and my resolve slowly calms down. I fold my arms, challenging him to provoke me further. "Well, sorry doesn't change anything."

"At least you're less angry," he says, annoyingly truthful. "But I don't feel any better... Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"I'm here for an interview... I've waited miserably for an hour to see Ms. Dunwoody. I wish to find her and know why she unprofessionally stood me up."

Oh, my word... I had forgotten about that; I thought it was tomorrow.

Taking a step back, I scan him from head to toe, assessing my soon-to-be bodyguard's competence. He's at least bold enough to lecture me on professionalism and bold enough to admit that he is wrong. I may have invited a potential enemy instead of a bodyguard.

"Why are you checking me out?" he inquires, and I raise my head to meet his gaze.

"Me? Checking you out? No, no, please," I laugh, waving my hand.

"You just did that thing with your eyes,"

I close the space between us, looking up at his emerald green eyes. My heart races unreasonably fast, but I won't show timidity. My gaze traces down to his plump lips... "You just did it again,"he whispers, his tone seducing my sense of reasoning.

I hold everything together, resisting the urge to touch his lips. "Very unprofessional, huh?" I say with a giggle, walking backwards.

"Huh?"

"You were looking for Ms. Dunwoody; you've found her," He looks around, confused, and I introduce myself. "I am Camilla Dunwoody, and you are?" His brows knit in confusion as he looks at me. "Well, now you're checking me out," I tease, loosening my arms. "Sorry, I didn't mean to... I just didn't expect you to be this young... I'm Drix Anderson."

And I didn't expect you to be this good looking and charming instead of physically intimidating.

"Young? Did you think I was eighty or something?" I ask, nodding my head slowly and smiling. He barely knows me, which is both a good and bad thing. We won't get close, but he might become too curious about me which might lead to irrelevant questions and I dislike talking about myself. It's more enjoyable when others do the talking, especially when I'm not around.

"Okay, what do you want, Lian?" I ask, trying to wrap up the conversation.

"The interview is today," he replies.

"Oh, yes, that," I say, remembering the interview. "I'm—"he starts to say, but I interrupt.

"I rest on Fridays. Wait in the living room, and Stephan will show you around and provide the necessary details shortly that you need. I'll see you tomorrow,"I say, involuntarily blurting out the words before brushing past his shoulder and entering the building.

Of course, I finally accepted my defeat, I could always fire him in a few days or so and I wouldn't be needing him that often as well. If this goes wrong, Stephan would pay for damages, I would probably go through his profile this evening after my nap to have proper information about him. I do hope he has a bad first impression with Stephan to make things easier for me and all of us.

"Wait... please, am I—" he starts to ask, but I quickly reply,

"Yes, you're hired," and take my leave before he can say another word.