Selena

I groggily groan, squinting at the sunlight blinding through the front yard windows...

Why am I on my parents' couch?

The blanket I tried to drape on Adam last night is on me instead.

Shit.

Did I pass out on him?

Last night replays in my head. Him sitting in the dark. The twisted ink covering his arms, from the sides of his neck, down to his chest. He was asleep, with his head painfully dangling forward. I felt bad. He didn't even have a blanket.

So I tried to be nice, but he shoved his gun into my throat. I lost twenty years of my life in one single moment, stuck on his unconcerned, heavy-eyed expression with his chin tipped back.

"Breathe, sweetheart."

Except I couldn't. On the feet of death, that grating, velvet voice licked the length of my spine, letting off a chain of goosebumps.

Ugh! I groan again, this time in mortification, and throw the blanket over my face. Just bury—

"Rough night?"

Adam.

Fuck. Was he watching me go through this performance the whole time? I don't move.

Maybe he'll go away if I don't—My phone buzzes near my hip. Thank God! Yes, please. I need a distraction.

I snatch it up in my hand, hoping for an exciting message from a friend or something. No.

It's my 8 AM reminder to take my medication.

Crap. The ones I left at home? Haha. Because my father thinks he's in a mafia and he's holding me hostage to prove his unconditional love.

What kind of love is this, if it's hurting me?

I don't want love if it doesn't come with respect. I don't give a shit if it's unintentional. He refuses to ever see things from my perspective. Or acknowledge that my way of experiencing life is valid. I shouldn't be put down for not living his version of how my life should be.

"What are you doing?" Adam approaches me over my shoulder, looking down at my phone.

"What does it look like? I'm calling an Uber." There. He'll be here in five minutes. I'm out of here.

"You think I'm going to let you go?"

"You think I'm going to let you go?" I mock him, wrinkling my face. I stand up and start moving towards the door. "Is that supposed to be intimidating, Mr. Macho? You think I won't fight?"

"Selena?" My dad enters the living room area, standing by the doorframe that connects to the kitchen. So basically, close enough to have heard everything, but too far to catch me.

Which means, I only need to deal with Adam.

I look at the white cup of coffee he's holding in one hand. Ew. Plain black coffee? Fine. Whatever.

"Do you mind if I..." I take the mug from his hands with complete nonchalance, ethereal grace, and I brush my gaze over at him as I take a slow sip. My father and him silently watch me.

I'm going to gag, this is the most bitter, disgusting cup of coffee in the world.

I let out an unladylike shudder and give the offensive liquid back to the man with questionable tastebuds. "This explains a lot."

"What does?" he asks.

"This." I yank the door open and bolt out. I'm free! I'm running a million miles an hour, in my house slippers that's just a foam bottom and a little plastic string. "Oh, fuck." I laugh to myself.

I see the black Toyota, my Uber savior, pull into the driveway. I'm about to wave my arm at him and scream for help. But stupid Adam catches up to me and he has the audacity to throw his giant arm around my waist, and pull me against him.

I shriek, my feet disconnecting from the ground as he lifts me up. "Let go! Who do you think you are! To hold me! Hostage! This is not 365 Days! I'll fucking kill you!" I smack every inch of him my hands land on. Cheek, ear, forehead, eye, I don't care.

"Oh my God, would you calm down!" He collects my wrists in one hand like it doesn't take any effort or strength from him at all. Wait. When did he pick me up bridal style? I'm in his arms.

"Um..." Okay. Selena. What's with the tingly heat between your irrational legs? Snap out of it!

"Are you done?" He lifts an eyebrow, daring me to say no.

"You can put me down."

"I asked you a question."

"And I gave you an order."

Adam puts me down before I even finish the sentence, straightening his shoulders back. "I wouldn't have to grab you, but you keep running from me," he grumbles, looking away.

"Oh, wow. You should see a therapist about it." I pout in pity.

He glares.

Crap! My phone fell out of my hand when he picked me up, and now the screen is facing the ground, with God knows how many cracks.

Please, don't be broken. Please, no...

I slowly crouch and hold my phone, flipping it over. A sigh of relief leaves my soul. Thank God.

My Uber driver texts me if I'm coming, and I'm about to leave, but Adam catches my wrist.

"Are you trying to die?" I cock my head at him incredulously.

"I'm not letting you go there alone." Something in his tone strikes me in the chest, sending a dull ache through it. I know he sees it wavering in my eyes. He takes note of it. "Okay?"

I don't really want to go alone anyway. "I thought you wouldn't take me, if I asked."

"If I thought it's not safe, then no, I wouldn't take you. But there's security everywhere."

"Is that the only reason?" I cross my arms.

"Yeah..." He glances around like he doesn't follow what I mean.

"How about the fact that it's my right as a twenty-one-year-old to control my own life?"

"Huh?" He scowls.

Honestly, why am I bringing this up to him? But still, I can't stop.

"Why are my dad's feelings about me more important than mine?" My voice cracks under the confession. "He claims to love me and he uses that as an excuse to take away my privacy, and because he has money, he hires people to help." I raise my voice, hoping my dad will hear it. "How is that love?"

"Calm down..." Adam says softly, lifting his palms up and holding gentle eye-contact.

"I'm not a fucking horse." I snap, mimicking his action. "Calm down. You think that helps?"

"I said I'll take you wherever you want to go, why are you so angry?" He lifts his hand and wraps his fingers around my upper arm, his thumb grazing circles over my sweatshirt. It's like he knows it's the only way to snap me out of this hurricane of anxiety. I can't handle it.

This is why I need medication.

"Just take me to my apartment," I mutter, giving in as he leads me to his car.

We have twenty minutes in this car ride together. Usually, I wear headphones in my Uber rides so the driver doesn't start any conversations with me—even though, sometimes, a lot of them choose to ignore it. But I don't have my headphones on me.

Listening to music together is going to be really weird. I don't want him to think that everything is fine. Everything is not fine. I'm still not okay with this.

"How often do you bodyguard people against their will?" I ask from the backseat, my tone casual.

"Never. This is my first time." His answer comes out just as easy, like he has nothing to hide.

I'm intrigued. "Why the sudden character change?"

He stays silent, focusing on the slow traffic ahead with unnecessary attention.

Maybe it's a life or death situation. Maybe he owes people money.

"Why wouldn't you just take jobs with willing participants? Is this a low demand season or something? Like, is the market of bodyguards so saturated, that some organizations now do things unethically?"

"What are you talking about?" He seems genuinely confused.

I'm confused that HE's confused. "Why do you think it's okay to forcefully protect me for your own benefit?"

"Oh my God, do you ever stop talking?"

"You know I'm right!"

"You're not."

I scoff, crossing my legs and arms, turning towards the window and look away. "I'm right."

Twenty awkward minutes later—thanks to Adam—we park behind my apartment building.

He wasn't kidding about the security guards. There were so many of them, I'm sure my neighbors are freaking out.

"Hi..." I laugh at the men as they stand in a line to greet me, shyly bowing my head. "Oh my God, none of you need to be here, I'm not that famous yet..." No one laughs. Oh, well.

I'm just happy to be back home, a place where I feel the safest. A cocoon of small space where I have control over everything. Every noise, every detail. Except now, my living room is occupied by men that I've never talked to before.

They're the same, sketchy men I've seen have meeting with my dad since I was a kid. They always stank of cologne, had black under-eye circles, and wore black head-to-toe. When they looked me in the eyes, I didn't see a human. I saw broken, angry, and impulsive predators.

And one of them was about to light a cigarette in the middle of my Japandi cozy aesthetic!

"Excuse me?" I hurry over, realizing way too late that I look like a complete idiot. I'm still in my oversized sweats and sweatshirt, my hair a frizzy mess, and I have no makeup on.

The group of men stop talking and turn their quizzical scowls my way.

"Do you mind not smoking in my apartment?" I tilt my head to lessen the impact. "It's something you should ask to begin with, you know? Before stinking up the place."

The man blinks a couple of times, like he can't believe I just said that.

"Did I say something wrong?" I look at all of them. "Isn't this my apartment? I'm not comfortable with it."

"Alright, alright." He lowers the cigarette from his mouth, brushing past me to leave. "Bitch," he mutters under his breath.

Adam takes a lazy step in front of him, tilting his chin aside. "What did you just say?"

His eyes bulge out, and I swear, I see the hair on the back of his neck rise. I want to laugh at his face.

"Nothing!" He looks around at his friends, silently begging for help.

"Are you sure? I think I heard something else." Adam narrows his eyes, a sadistic smirk on his lips, like this is just a little game for him. "Do you want to say that again?"

"No, man..." The loser looks at the ground, shifting from one foot to another.

"That's what I thought," Adam pins him with a hard glare, but the man who's older than him won't even dare to meet his eyes!

This is badass.

So this is what it feels like to make someone shit their pants. I've always wanted to do it.

It's okay, next time.

I head into the kitchen as everyone starts to leave, and rip open a banana, peeling half of it down. I bite down on it, feeling Adam's eyes on me, and I use it as a distraction to open my medicine drawer. I cover the label of my yellow pill bottle with my hand and swiftly put it inside my pocket, spinning towards the bathroom.

"What's that for?" he asks over my shoulder.

"Can I have a sliver of privacy?" I roll my eyes before shutting the door.

I swallow the banana down just to have some food in my system, then drink the pill with the faucet water, grimacing in disgust.

He saw. What lie can I makeup so he doesn't tell my parents? The last thing I need is for dad to look into my medical history. He'll threaten my psychiatrist to tell him everything and ruin all the progress I've made. I'd rather get kidnapped by these mysterious stalkers than let my dad mock me for taking care of myself.

Kids in this generation have it so easy. What could you possibly be stressed out about? You're just more weak and sensitive, because you haven't experienced actual hardship.

As if saying that makes the person feel better. All it does is make them feel even more like shit.

I sheepishly have no choice but to exit the bathroom and face Adam. He's already standing in front of the kitchen island, his tall legs in a comfortably wide stance, facing me.

"Please, don't tell my dad," I say. "No one knows about these pills."

"Are they yours?"

"Of course, they are!" I gasp. "You think I'm that stupid?"

"I'm just asking..." He keeps his voice soft, though there's speculation in his dark eyes as he scans me up. "What do you take them for, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I mind."

If my best friend doesn't even know, why would I tell someone I've known for less than twenty-four hours?

"Okay." Adam lifts his palm in surrender. "And you don't have to worry, I won't tell anyone."

I narrow my eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Why not?" I narrow them even more, now I can hardly see him.

"Because it's your privacy." There's a low, delicious chuckle rumbling from his chest. Like dark chocolate, with nothing but seriousness in his eyes. "I work for you. That means protecting you from anything and anyone, including family."

The brick walls around my heart crack at his words. "Really?"

"Obviously."

He's so hard to figure out. Is he being sweet or is he doing his job? Which one is it? I don't know how to respond. On one hand, I have butterflies overwhelming my belly, to the point that it's hard to breathe and my skin is tingling. And the other part feels like a dumbass for being the damsel in distress who's sexually attracted to an objectively appealing and forbidden man.

"You're going to work for me," I say in astonished realization.

"I am."

"For me."

"Selena?" A woman's voice asks behind me.

My landlord.

"Hi, Blanca!" I chuckle, shrinking under the scrutinizing look she pins my way. What did I do now? "Is this about the security guard zoo downstairs? I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"I've called you ten times since yesterday!" She comes closer and shoves her open hand in my face, yelling like an entitled mother.

"You have?"

She has. I've seen every single one. I'm sorry, but I had a crazy day yesterday, okay? Whatever my landlord had to tell me could wait while I sorted out the new 6'4 human stuck on my back.

"You left your door open," she continued. "I thought you're in the laundry room, but no. You were at school. This is the third time in the last week!"

She's right, I can't argue about that. It's not normal. It's stupid. I live alone. I should be more careful about locking the door after myself.

"Well, starting today, I'll be motivated enough to really work on it." I chuckle, scratching my head. Honestly, I'd never want to experience this aga—

"You didn't think to close the door?" Adam questions Blanca, suspicion oozing from him.

He could totally beat her up. Oooh. Or hold her arms back while I throw a kick or two.

"I was at work!" She slaps her thighs in defeat, her eyes widening as if Adam might attack her. "And why should I take care of her? I'm not her mom! She shouldn't forget something like that in the first place. Or she shouldn't live alone. Everyone's scared all because of her."

My chest sinks like someone threw a rock into a lake. I didn't mean to upset anyone. I set reminders to lock the door and wrote it in my to-do list. I honestly think something is wrong, because there's no way I could forget to lock it three times in one week.

"Did you call her emergency contact?" Adam asks, causing her to freeze like she's been caught. "Hm? No. You didn't."

Oh my God. That's right!

"Yeah, why didn't you call my dad?" I put my hand on my hip. Dad picks up every single phone call. Always.

"I-I..." She stutters. Her shoulders sink with shame. "I forgot..."

"Yeah..." Adam pretends to think about it. "You shouldn't forget something like that in the first place, should you?"

"Of course!" She joins her hands in front of her and throws a nervous smile my way, stepping back. "Let me know if you need anything..."

My scowl only deepens. Since when did Blanca become so submissive?

Is it because of Adam? No. I think she was just scared of me. That's awesome.

"What?" He flicks me a side-glance.

I bite my lip to not smile, but it's hard. "Nothing."

A/N
What did ya'll think?! If you've read my other books, is Selena our brattiest brat so far?

Please vote & comment if you're enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it <3