Kobe

Past

Today was the day.

I nailed the pre-interview last week and was finally getting a new job after taking twelve long months off.

I was now going to be bodyguard of some famous model named Chanel Gooding and watching over her was going to give me the biggest paychecks to date.

I didn’t know shit about her and, fortunately, with this occupation, I didn’t have to know much. All I really needed to know was how to watch her without letting anyone get too close, and to make sure she didn’t get into any foul shit.

I saw her face around often, mostly on lingerie store posters around the city and even on TV. Chanel had curves and hips for days, as well as a great set of tits.

Her lips were plump and full, her eyes a steely gray, chocolate brown curls that framed her face. I gathered all of this from the portrait on the desk in front of me of her and my future boss—her father.

I’d found out a lot about her beforehand. She was twenty-four, loved to have a good time, but loved walking the runway even more. She had a best friend named Skye, who modeled with her in the same modeling agency. Her mother passed away when she was twenty, and by the looks of it, it motivated her because she was an on-the-rise model in various magazines several months later.

The door of the office swung open, pulling me from my thoughts, and I adjusted in my seat as an older man with salt and pepper hair, a goatee, and a navy blue pinstriped suit, stepped into the room.

He didn’t smile or speak when he walked around his large desk, didn’t utter a word.

Shit.

His assistant wasn’t kidding.

He did seem like a hard-ass.

He sat in the large leather chair behind the desk, dropping his elbows on top of it and locking his fingers, staring right me. His eyes traveled up and down, scanning thoroughly like he was trying to get a good read on me.

Clearing his throat, he finally said, “You seem to be strong and well-built enough.” He loosened his long fingers to pick up a sheet of paper in front of him. His looked it over slowly and then side-eyed me, lowering the paper.

“You were a bodyguard for Miss Manhattan three years ago?” he inquired.

“I was.”

He dropped the paper. “And what made you want to leave that job?”

“It just wasn’t a good fit for me.”

“So, you’re that type?” His eyebrows drew together just as my head cocked with curiosity. “The type to go from job to job because nothing is ever good enough for you?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“It says here you were the guard for a famous artist who lives here, in Manhattan? A man?”

“Yes. But he was just an intolerable jackass. I had no choice but to leave when he started threatening me. Plus, I needed to. Personal reasons.”

“What personal reasons?”

“Things I don’t wish to elaborate on right now.”

“I see. And Miss Manhattan?” he questioned. I was glad he overlooked the personal topic. “Why did you leave her?”

“Her people wanted me to be the driver too, but didn’t want to pay me extra for it.”

He scanned the paper once more. “My resources tell me you have been ranked best bodyguard in Manhattan.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s why it shocks me that you were out of commission for a full year.”

I nodded, but one of my hands balled into a fist. Ignoring the ache in my heart and the noise in my head, I said, “It was a personal decision to take that time off.”

“Personal. Sounds like your favorite word.” He sat back in his chair, stroking the hair on his chin, as if deciding whether to believe me or nor. “This job is about trust. Why should I trust you, Mr. Ward?”

“Because, as you can see, I have a clean résumé and my clients have never been harmed while I’m around. I’m the best in this city for a reason and it’s because I worked hard, sir. Very hard. I know the world sees Guards of the World as a stupid, pointless magazine, but we bodyguards take it very seriously.”

As if my answer intrigued him, he said, “Well good. I’m glad you had the balls to tell me that. Not many would have given such a blunt response without sugarcoating it.”

I shrugged lightly. I’d never been the type to sugarcoat.

“I will tell you now Mr. Ward, that my daughter is very…well, how should I put this…” He dropped his hand, sitting up in his chair again. “Rebellious. She takes no shit, doesn’t like to be hounded, and hates when her guards are breathing down her neck. Chanel can be friendly, but she also likes her space.”

“Understood.”

“As her bodyguard, I expect you to be there, watching and protecting her. She’s a very private person. She loves to have a good time, but as of late, she’s been focusing more on her career, which I’m glad about.” His eyes bounced around the office before finally dropping and focusing on a portrait on his desk. “She broke up with some famous male model a few months ago and is a little cattier than usual because of it, so she won’t be happy about having another bodyguard filling me in on her every move.”

“I hope this doesn’t come off as rude, Mr. Gooding, but if she doesn’t want a bodyguard, why give me the job? Seems like it’ll only cause trouble.”

“Because even though Chanel keeps to herself, she can’t really be tamed. She likes to have fun, even if she’s alone. I don’t trust her when she drinks and parties and all that nonsense. The morning after a party, she’ll call me, saying someone spoke badly about her, or she invited people to her apartment and doesn’t know how to kick them out. That is where you will come in, Kobe.” He pointed at me and I nodded my head. “For that, and many other things.”

“I’ve never had a problem with kicking anyone out.”

“Good.” He pushed to a stand and walked around the desk. Sitting on the edge of it, only a step away, he stared down at me, breathing hard through his nose. “There is something else you should know. I realize my daughter is beautiful—she is stunning, really. Sometimes it worries me knowing she’s so beautiful, plastered all over this city, being stared at by the eyes of God knows who. I realize how hard it must be for a man to keep his eyes away from her. But I will tell you now that she is off-limits to you.” He held up two fingers, still looking at me. “I have two rules when it comes to the bodyguards I hire for her: Keep my daughter safe, and touch her only when she needs help. A few of my guards in the past failed me in this aspect. One had even become obsessed with her. After firing him, he became a bit stalker-ish, which resulted in a restraining order and a ridiculous lawsuit that we were fortunate to win, but there was too much paperwork involved. I don’t want anyone coming onto my daughter. I hope I will not have this issue with you, Mr. Ward.”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Good. Keep your eyes off her unless you’re in public. Keep your hands to yourself. Don’t flirt with her. Don’t engage. Don’t even share a drink with her, even if she demands you to, because I know how she is. If I find out you do anything with her that is not a part of your job, I will fire your ass so quick, you won’t even see it coming. My brother is also the Sheriff of New York City and all it takes is one call for you to be arrested and for your crystal-clear reputation to be ruined. Do you understand where I’m coming from here?”

“Yes, sir. I completely understand.”

“Good. Well, in that case—” he pushed off the desk and released a deep sigh as if he was glad the conversation was over, “—you have the job. I will have my assistant bring in a few non-disclosure forms, some tax papers, and a few other contracts for you to fill out. There will be an apartment rented out for you in the same building as Chanel’s. With that restraining order out, I don’t want to take any chances. Anything could happen and I’ll need someone close to handle any of her sticky situations. Once that is all set up, my assistant will take you to meet Chanel.”

He chuckled, stepping around the desk. I got the feeling he knew something I didn’t.

“I hope you’re ready for her, Kobe.” A smug smile rode his lips. “Because she will not make this job easy for you.”

I wish I’d listened when he said that because it was nothing but the truth.