Chanel

My dad was never a good listener, and he really wondered where I got my rebellious attitude.

I told him I didn't want a new bodyguard so soon.

After the shitshow that went down last time, I didn’t trust them anymore. To me, they were just egotistical assholes who thought they were invincible and always in my way.

Dad sent maids that same morning to clean up my loft, his way of preparing for something new. He also delivered white roses, trying to butter me up. Having flowers delivered was cliché, but they were my favorite because they used to be Mom’s favorite. I put them on her grave every chance I got.

Sighing, I tucked my legs beneath me, sinking into the plush leather sofa, reading the cover of the latest Cosmopolitan magazine as I sipped my coffee.

I was on the front cover, my hair styled in quirky, thick curls, giving the world a hard, flirty wink with my puckered lips covered in bold, red MAC lipstick.

I didn’t know whether to smile or be annoyed by the headline.

I flipped to my article and interview where I gave a very, very small piece of myself to them—enough to satisfy the fans and make them hopeful, but not so much they knew everything about me.

To the world, I was just a model. To some, I was “too thin”, fitting perfectly into the mold of society’s many standards, and according to them, I didn’t have enough stretch marks to be considered a real woman. That’s what they thought, but unfortunately I wasn’t in control of the image-editing department.

I had my flaws too. Many of them. They just couldn’t see them and they never would.

A hard knock sounded on the door just as one of the maids turned off the vacuum cleaner. I slapped the magazine closed and tossed it on the glass coffee table, pushing off the sofa and walking barefoot to the door, placing my mug on the counter on the way.

Peeking out of the peephole, I instantly rolled my eyes when I saw Nicole, my manager as well as one of Dad’s assistants, standing on the other side, her hair up in a sleek platinum bun, her glasses low on the bridge of her nose.

She flipped her wrist to check the time, huffing a hard breath. With a heavy sigh, I gripped the knob and exhaled when I came face to face with her.

“I knocked on the door three times, Chanel.” She frowned before barging right past me, placing her designer bag down on the countertop. She wasn’t a very patient human being. “Your guard is here,” she announced, looking down at her cellphone. “He’s a floor above you, dropping his things off and then he’ll be down to introduce himself.” Her thumbs clicked away on the screen of her iPhone.

“I don’t know why Dad even hired him,” I muttered, walking to the kitchen. “We all know the guards he thinks are superb aren’t really all they’re cracked up to be.”

“Well, I did my research on this one,” she stated proudly, lowering her phone to eye me as I pulled down a box of Frosted Flakes. “From what I’ve gathered, he is the best guard in Manhattan—the number one bodyguard in the city, in fact. Someone else showed interest in him, but we offered to pay him double what they were offering, so be good with this one, will you? He’s not like the others. He seems dedicated to his job.”

“How do you know he’s number one in Manhattan?” I asked, dumping the cereal into a bowl. “What does that even mean?”

“According to the Guards of the World catalogue, he is ranked as number one, and from what I’ve heard guards take that catalogue very seriously. They have reviews inside it and everything from their previous and current employers.”

“Sounds kind of lame,” I snickered to myself, picking up the bowl and walking around the counter to sit on one of the barstools.

“Do you really think you should be eating that?” she asked as I plucked at my dry cereal. “You have a kickboxing class in two hours, followed by your jog in the park with Nathan.”

“I’ll live, but thanks for your concern.” I turned my back to her, rolling my eyes.

She let out an agitated breath and went back to clicking away at her cellphone. Good grief, she was a pain in my ass.

I didn’t have a problem with Nicole when I first met her. She introduced herself to me like a winner, and as if she had my best interest in mind, so we hired her. And she was great. She kept me organized while also keeping me busy.

When I first met her, I thought she was beautiful in her own way with her big blue eyes and bright hair. Too bad I wasn’t the only person thinking that.

I found her and my dad in his office one day. She was on her knees between his legs while he was sitting in his desk chair, his head tossed back, enjoying it a little too much. It was the grossest thing I’d ever seen.

Dad saw me before I could get out of his office that day. He’d never mentioned it afterward, but Nicole did and she wasn’t very apologetic about it. They had a thing going on—I wasn’t sure what it was—and I really didn’t care enough to ask for more details.

It was his business, and I guess I couldn’t blame him. He was a widower, after all. He was lonely and needed some kind of affection. Though she was a pain in the ass, she kept my dad occupied which meant less overbearing phone calls and worried text messages from him.

As I picked at my dry cereal, Nicole told the maids to pack up and leave. Not even two minutes after they’d left, someone else was knocking on the door.

Nicole rushed to it, peering through the peephole. “Oh, good. It’s him.” Gripping the knob, she pulled the door open and stepped to the side, letting the new bodyguard in.

As soon as I saw him, eating the dry cereal was no longer my priority. Staring at him was.

And. Fuck. Me.

He stepped into my studio in a pair of dark blue jeans and a fitted white T-shirt. His hair was dark, cropped short, but just long enough to run my fingers through it. He had dark facial hair, not too much or too little, and his skin was the color of one of my favorite Starbuck drinks—caramel macchiato. His features were strong and defined, and his skin tone alluded to some Hispanic heritage.

I could tell he was older than me by at least six to eight years, I guessed. I could tell by how tired his eyes were. He was strong and fit, his arms big enough to wrap around me twice. He wasn’t like the average bulky, bald, thick-necked guard. No, he was completely different.

He was built well enough for the world to know he was a protector, but still lean and cut in all the right places that made him look like more of a gym trainer or an athlete.

Unlike the other guards, whose eyes lit up as soon as they saw me, his remained the same—dark, hard, and serious.

He looked me over once, a lingering, magnetic sweep, before pulling his eyes away and studying the loft. He seemed too big in my apartment, and it was as if all the air got sucked out of the room the moment the door shut behind him.

“Chanel,” Nicole said, smiling nervously as she glanced between him and me. “This is Kobe Ward. Your new bodyguard.”

Kobe Ward. Even his name was different.

There was Jack. Bob. Tom. Ron. Matt. But Kobe? Yeah, he was definitely not like the others.

I pushed off my stool, dusting my hands off as I padded to the middle of the room. He took a large step forward extending his arm and offering his hand. I took it, shaking twice.

“Nice to meet you, Kobe,” I greeted.

“Likewise. I look forward to working for you, Miss Gooding.”

Miss Gooding? I almost snorted. Instead, I waved a hand and said, “Just call me Chanel, please. The formalities aren’t necessary.”

“Okay.” He stepped back. “Chanel it is.” I don’t know why, but having him say my name made my belly clench and then flutter. It was a strange sensation, one I didn’t want to dwell on so I stepped away.

“Kobe will be going with you to training today,” Nicole announced. I looked at her. “I saw some paparazzi camping around the building, some lurking at the coffee shop across the street. They’ll be looking for you after the release of that magazine today, so he’ll help you get through the crowds.”

“Cool,” I murmured. I glanced at Kobe who nodded once in response.

“I’ll be right outside the door when you’re ready to leave.” He turned his back, pulling the door open and walking out.

When the door closed behind him, the room felt more vacant, the air not so thick in my lungs. I fixed my gaze on Nicole, who forced a smile.

“So? What do you think?” she asked.

“He’s . . . really serious,” I noted, plopping down on the sofa.

“Which is exactly what he needs to be. He’s the most in-demand bodyguard in this city for a reason, and it’s clearly because he doesn’t take this gig as a joke. Plus, your father told him to have minimal interaction with you. He won’t be sharing any personal conversations or asking you how your day went—none of that. He will only be doing his job, which is watching over you. He doesn’t have to speak to do that.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Tell my father that every guard’s mission isn’t to fall in love with me. We can have conversations. It’s what we humans are meant to do.”

“Yes, but still. We don’t want what happened with Matt to happen again. We want you safe.”

I sighed, watching as she picked up her bag from the counter and slid the strap over her shoulder. “Please don’t be late to training. And remember tomorrow morning at eight is the photoshoot with Elle magazine. I’ll remind you again with a text.”

“Yup. I remember.”

“Good.” She walked to the door, her heels clicking on the hardwood. “Call if you need anything.”

I lifted my hand and waved goodbye with my fingers, relieved when she finally walked out the door. On her way out, I could see the bodyguard standing there with his arms folded, staring at the wall across from him.

I couldn’t lie and say he didn’t intrigue me. He hadn’t shown a single emotion. He was like one of the guards outside Westminster Abbey, just without the uniform. It was going to annoy me soon—how serious he was and having my father tell him to have minimal interaction with me.

If someone was to work for me, I needed to know who the person really was, or at least catch a glimpse of who they are. It was a personal preference and my dad knew this, but something told me it was going to be hard getting Sir Kobe to crack.

I didn’t want what happened with Matt happening again though, so perhaps it would be better keeping to myself.