Adam

Selena May.

Born on June 5th, 2001. 

Half Lebanese, half Mexican. 

Distinguishing features: Light brown eyes and long, thick black hair. Majoring in Business at USC with a 4.0 GPA, and working her way up as a Social Media Coordinator at the school's Marketing Department. 

Engaged to Marc Vargas. Twenty-two. Dad is in prison for laundering money worth two billion. Marc was left to look after his mother who's in chemo for cancer. He's a medical student, which Selena's dad is secretly paying for. Apparently, he and Marc's dad are childhood friends.

Her dad is also a shit liar.

What he'll never dare to tell his wife and daughter is that he sells drugs to all the Mexican gangs in LA. And he's probably fucked up and put his family in danger. 

That's the only reason he hired me. The company I work for is known only through word-of-mouth. It's a low-key operation that usually ends with me murdering someone to protect somebody else. It pays fucking well. But it's unfortunately the kind of job that also kills a part of you if you're good at it. 

So imagine my fucking surprise, when after all that shit, I'm stuck with a snarky princess who's not only as entitled as I imagined, but she wants nothing to do with me.

I watch in astonishment as she ignores her parents' wishes to have lunch together, making up some bullshit excuse to leave. No questions about the threat. It doesn't seem like she even believes it. She just tosses her tiny bag over her shoulder and heads down the exit. 

Her parents gasp. The dad turns to me to say something, but I'm already after her. From now on, she's all I'm going to focus on. I don't need any instructions. My vision is crystal clear and zoned in, tracking her every move. 

I travel my gaze over the back of her body. She's wearing a black dress that ties around the waist, accentuating her curves. It's a modest-length, reaching below the knee. But the top is low-cup and open like a square. So every step she takes, her breasts bounce a little. 

All this lasts only a couple of seconds. As soon as she's out of the dining hall, she whirls to the right and gets out of my sight. I sprint after her, twisting in the same direction, and I almost tackle her to the ground. She hadn't moved at all behind the wall.

She yelps as our bodies get close, but I halt at the last second and take a step back.

"Why are you following me?" She yells, her face all flushed as she's panting. 

I don't know how to answer that. Because it's what I'm hired to do? Because your dad is a dickhead who put your life in danger, but doesn't have the balls to come clean to you?

"Look, I don't know what this 'threat' is," she continues. "But it has nothing to do with me. I have the most boring life. I don't do anything. So... you following me is not only a huge waste of time, but it's going to be a disaster. I'm a very private person and I don't like people."

"Good," I say calmly. "Then we shouldn't have a problem."

"Oh. Good. So... you agree to being fired?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Wow, I didn't realize..." She blinks in mocking realization. "I don't have to ask you! You're fired." 

"That's cute, but no."

Her jaw drops open. "Excuse me?"

Is that supposed to be her threatening voice? 

"You're excused."

"Oh..." Her eyes narrow like a little demon. "Okay. Let's play like that."

What is that supposed to mean? Whatever. 

"I have to use the bathroom," she suddenly says and walks past me, brushing her shoulder against my arm. She opens the door across the hall, revealing the marble-tiled bathroom with lined faucets, with two women fluffing their hair in front of the mirrors.

She didn't open it wide enough for me to check the left side. Are there windows there? I'm not sure. 

I step in front of the door, straining my ears to listen what's going on behind it. Someone flushes the toilet. Then washes her hands. I hear the electric dryer turn on. Then a woman's voice.

I scan the security cameras on the ceiling, counting how many there are and what they might be recording. There's a continuous traffic of club members and servants walking in and out of the dining hall. 

I shift my gaze to the right window, overlooking the golf course. Men with Easter-color polos and khaki shorts swing a golf club over their shoulder, watching the white ball fly up in the air, then slowly roll next a hole.

I'd die from boredom if I had to do that.

I drag my eyes back to the bathroom, clenching my jaw as my patience starts to wear off. Should I go in there? They'll probably scream. Do I care? 

Something from my peripheral vision catches my attention. I look out the window and see...

Selena racing off in a golf cart.

"Loooser!" She laughs over her shoulder, using quotation marks. "Bodyguard my ass!" 

Fuck! 

I shove a servant holding a silver tray with cakes and tea out of my way. The tray falls on me, smearing my shirt and the front of my jeans with icing. I feel the slight burn of the boiled water on my thighs, but I don't pay attention. I leap out the door and over the flight of stairs, chasing after Selena in front of a bunch of people. 

Not humiliating at all. No. Especially not with her laughing her head off.

The path is narrow, with twists and turns. There are golf carts going in different directions, because rich people don't care. People are walking their dogs. I almost step on a Chihuahua. I almost tackle an eighty-year-old in a wheelchair. I hate this girl. I fucking hate her. 

Seeing she's about to circle around a hill, I take a shortcut to meet her on the other side, which requires me to run through pink rose bushes. Needless to say, my jeans are getting poked with thorns like an army of hedgehogs. 

It's scorching hot outside. I'm wearing a button-down. I'm covered in tea and cake. But I make it out of there in perfect timing right as Selena is about to pass me. I jump on the side of the golf cart, holding onto the railing.

She screams, automatically letting go of the wheel, and about to crash into a tree. I act fast. My foot slams on the brakes and I lift and twist my body, shielding Selena before she lurches out of the cart.

Both of us are breathing hard and fast, our chests heaving against each other. I have my arms enveloped around her seat, to ensure she doesn't fall from the exposed sides. 

"Oh, fuck..." She gasps. My eyes close for a second as her lips accidentally brush the side of my neck, her hot breath fanning across my skin. She gulps. "Um...c-can you..."

I pull back a little to study her face, keeping my arms on each side of her. She doesn't seem hurt, just scared. 

"You didn't think I'd let you get away, did you?"

Her eyes burn with angry and embarrassed tears. Hm. I cock my head. She did. 

Seeing how she's too shaken up to speak, I use the opportunity to take us back. 

"Move over." I step out of the cart and walk around her, claiming her seat. I look over my shoulder, stretching my arm over her headrest as I back out of the trail, turning around.

Assuming she doesn't want to see her parents, I park at the front by the valet, and I hand the attendant my ticket to retrieve my car. Selena does the same, but unfortunately, she doesn't get the same response.

"Miss, your parents took your car with them already." The poor man smiles while I pray she doesn't snap his neck off. 

"You just gave some strangers my car, because they said they're my parents? What if they lied?"

"Um, but they're regulars..."

"Next time, if you don't ask for my permission before giving my keys to somebody else, you're going to regret it."

My eyebrows raise at her boldness. What a bitch. But she's not wrong. 

She notices me staring and rolls her eyes. I don't say anything. My job doesn't require much talking, usually the clients are the ones who open up and spill their secrets, especially if they're drunk. But as their bodyguard, I need to keep a certain distance from them to be able to do my job. 

I made that mistake once, and it was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

They finally bring forward the car Selena's dad rented for the job. Oof. I get a half boner. 

2022 AMG G63 in metallic black. Sexy. Sleek. 577 horsepower, 4.0- liter twin turbo V-8 monster engine. 

Come to daddy.

I'm purring with pleasure to get my hands on her, excited to drive. But first, I open the passenger door and motion my arm at Selena to go inside.

"And if I want to Uber?" She raises a brow in challenge.

"It's not safe," I say, plain and simple. "I'll be your driver from now on."

"And if I refuse?" She takes a step closer, which forces her to raise her chin. I stay still, calmly looking down at her as she narrows her eyes. "What are you going to do, throw me over you shoulder like a dumb caveman?"

Dumb caveman? The little...

"Get in the car."

The corner of her mouth slowly curves up. "Make me."

Should I... whip out my gun and shoot her? No. I need the money.

I close my eyes and crack my neck side to side, rolling the tension that has balled into knots. She crosses her arms like she's also not planning to back off, sizing me up from head-to-toe. 

Which is comical, because I'm twice her size, even though she's acting like it's the other way around. 

The birds in the nearby trees are chirping and the new cars from the parking are brought forward for the guests waiting in line. They start to honk, asking us to move. 

Selena waits for me to budge, her eyes slightly widening as people yell out complaints. I don't.

Her neck and chest slowly turn pink as she boils with embarrassment. I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to smirk, letting my gaze linger below her face so she knows that I noticed.

"Fuck you," she mumbles, rushing inside the car. 

You wish. 

I chuckle quietly, shutting her door. 

~A/N~
Surpriseee! I updated way early. Happy Saturday everyone <3 Or whatever day you're reading this on!