My Fiancé’s Bodyguard by Ivy Wild

My back wasstiff from sleeping in the makeshift bed downstairs. Johnny wasn't kidding when he said I'd be sleeping in the kitchen. Fucking cheapskate.

The worst part about it was that around 3:30 in the morning, the early crew started arriving to prepare breakfast. So, on the whole, I'd only gotten a few hours of sleep. Whatever the princess had in mind for her grand Miami adventure today, she was quickly going to be disappointed. I was not in the mood.

Not only was I irritated because I was tired, but I was also irritated because Johnny basically vanished the moment we arrived in this stupid city. I'd kept my ear to the ground. Trying to listen to see if I heard any rumors about where he'd gone or what he was doing.

So far, nothing.

Not one clue.

Not one ounce of information.

Aside from what I'd heard through the door on the plane, which wasn't fucking much, I was completely in the dark as to what we were doing here. More importantly, I was completely in the dark as to what Johnny was doing here.

"I've got a bone to pick with you, Max Holt." The voice called out to me from over the hustle of the kitchen, and I closed my eyes and tried to prepare myself for a shitstorm of a few hours.

A finger dug into my chest, and I opened my eyes to meet enticing brown ones.

"I told you breakfast was being served in your room," I said. I surveyed her up and down and suddenly had a feeling why she was angry. "What are you wearing?" I asked her.

"Oh, you noticed," she said, taking her hand back and gesturing to her body. "It seems as if my suitcases and the very reasonable clothes I packed somehow were replaced with a designer wardrobe of the ridiculous variety."

She wasn't wrong. Her outfit was highly impractical. She was currently wearing a pink silk wrap skirt and a white top that consisted of a corset and two large off-the-shoulder puffy sleeves. On her feet were a pair of stilettos that I'd have liked to see up in the air.

Fuck my brain for going there.

"Why didn't you just wear your clothes from yesterday?" I asked her.

"Funny you should mention. They went missing last night."

I gave her a grimace. "I hope you're not accusing me of stealing your clothes."

"As much as I'd like to accuse you of being a panty-sniffer, no, I'm not doing that," she said. "Because I think if even Johnny asked you to steal my clothes, you wouldn't stoop so low."

I rolled my shoulders and looked off to the side. "Meh, you'd be surprised. But, I didn't steal your panties," I said. "Does this mean you're not wearing any?" I asked with a coy smile because apparently I was a dumbass.

"Shut up, Max. I refuse to walk around in this."

"It's not that bad. All you need now are some lip injections and people will think you're from here."

"Very funny," she said, crossing her arms with a huff.

"Come on," I said. "Let's eat something and then we can go."

"No. I want out of here now," she said with a stomp of her stilettoed foot. "I don't want to be around a bunch of thieves." She said the last part a little too loud, and I pushed off the wall and guided her towards the back door of the kitchen that led to the alleyway to the rear of the Mansion.

"Let's not go causing problems," I said to her. "I'll ask around for your clothes when we get back. Maybe they were just taken away to be laundered."

She made a face at me as we stood in the alleyway. "The majority of the luggage is lingerie, Max. This wasn't some mistake."

She said it and I couldn't stop the images that filtered through my head. Fuck, I needed a cigarette. Better yet, something stronger.

"Let's go," I said, cracking my neck. One of the guards rounded the corner and I nodded at him as we passed by. His gaze lingered a little too long on the princess and I groaned. Whatever ideas Johnny had in his head as far as Madelyn was concerned, they were not virtuous. But, what he likely didn't realize was that dressing her up for the cover of Cosmo Magazine was going to make my job of watching her that much harder.

For a variety of reasons.

"I want coffee and then I want a new outfit."

I grimaced. "Coffee I can do, but I'm not getting involved in the whole clothes shopping thing."

"Then get ready to hear me complain all day," she retorted.

I groaned and ran my hands down my face. "Let's just start with the coffee," I said, secretly wishing Xanax was served at coffee shops.

We made it out to the main street, and then we both just looked at each other.

"Well?" she huffed.

"Well, what?"

"Where are we going?"

"The fuck should I know? I don't live here," I replied.

She looked up at the sky and shook her head dramatically. "Good God," she replied before fishing her phone out of the tiny wallet thing on her wrist. She tapped her phone a few times before heading North up the street.

A few blocks of walking in silence had us standing in front of a little coffee shop called Panther Coffee. It was one thousand percent not my vibe.

It was chic.

It was airy.

And it was filled with high-class, high-end people.

I looked at her face and the excitement written all over it and bit back a comment that I knew would kill her joy. I didn't know why I cared about her joy, but I was becoming softer than awkward applause, which was making me just as uncomfortable.

"Come on," she said, striding through the glass doors, looking right at home in her little get-up. I strode up to the register and the barista's smile dropped as she turned her gaze away from Madelyn and onto me.

I growled at her.

Cause it was fun.

Then something hit me in the arm.

I looked down.

It was Madelyn.

"Behave," she chided and my eyes widened. "Sorry," she said, turning back to the woman behind the register. "He was raised in a barn."

The girls had a laugh at my expense, and I gritted my teeth as I looked at the pastries behind museum glass.

"I'll have an iced latte with almond milk and a piece of coffee cake," she said.

Something hit me in the ribs.

I looked down.

It was Madelyn.

Again.

"What?" I asked her.

She widened her eyes at me and shook her head a bit. "Order something."

"Oh," I said a bit sheepishly. It was the first time in a long time that I'd ever been invited to eat with someone. I was always just the invisible ghost in the corner. There to die on the patron's behalf, but never dine with them.

"Large iced coffee. And one of these things," I said, pointing to some sort of sandwich in the case.

"Milk and sugar?"

The sides of my lips quirked up. "No. I don't like sweet things," I said, turning a bit to look at Madelyn who rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Can I have a name for the order?"

"Max," Madelyn said, meeting my gaze and smiling deviously. Fuck, I hated how much I liked it.

"Great! We'll call your name when it's ready," the woman said and we moved down the counter.

Madelyn pulled her phone out of her wrist thing again and started tapping away on it.

"What are you doing?" I asked, and then wondered why I cared.

"Posting the photo I took of you last night on Instagram," she said and I did something entirely unlike me.

I panicked.

I grabbed her phone right out of her hands to look at the screen. She snickered as my features shifted when I realized she was searching for a nearby clothing store.

I pushed the phone back into her hands and her snickering turned into full-blown laughter. All of it at my expense.

"So glad you're having fun," I muttered under my breath.

"Me too!" she said, and I growled and closed my eyes to try and calm myself down. I really needed to be careful around this girl. She tested me. Got me riled up. Pulled me entirely off course.

She was so fucking dangerous.

"You should try it sometime," she said just as the Barista shouted "ORDER FOR MAX!" entirely too loudly given our proximity to the counter.

"Men like me don't have fun," I said as we each grabbed our respective orders.

Madelyn walked us over to a table a bit out of the way. It appeared that the coffee shop was located in the neighboring hotel lobby and the two connected. She sat us down at a corner table next to the window, taking the corner seat for herself.

"Up," I said to her sternly.

She looked at me incredulously and I snapped my fingers. "Up. Don't make me ask again."

She finally stood and I grabbed her lightly by the shoulders when she refused to budge, moving her towards the other seat with a little pat to her back before taking the corner seat for myself.

She sat down across from me with her mouth still hanging open.

"Gonna catch flies, princess."

"What the heck!"

"I'm the guard. I sit in the corners where I can see everyone and everything. If someone comes in here shooting, if my back is facing the door, how effective do you think I'm going to be at protecting you?"

"Don't be so dramatic," she huffed, taking a sip of her sugary concoction.

I leaned back into the corner, taking a sip of my own coffee and just looked at her.

"Stop that," she said, a blush tinting her cheeks.

"You're all fake, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" she bit back.

"You. Your whole attitude. The way you present yourself to the world. It's fake. I think I've seen three different Madelyn's in the past forty-eight hours."

She shoved a piece of her pastry into her mouth and glared at me. "I'm acting that way with Johnny because I don't want him getting too close, obviously," she said. She put the pastry down and stared straight ahead for a moment. "Why am I telling you this? I shouldn't be talking to you about any of this."

"I'm good at getting people to talk," I replied with a smirk.

"Yeah, but I'm sure that sort of thing usually isn't voluntary."

I shrugged at her.

She was silent for a few more moments while she ate. "This is the real me," she finally said. "The way I am with you. But," she paused. "It's also not what I want the real me to be."

I stayed quiet, sipping my coffee and letting her spill out whatever this was.

"I've never been given the opportunity to figure out who I really am. My life has been a series of high society parties. Act this way, say this, wear that. There's no real room for personality in all of that. Being around you is the first time I've been able to really be myself."

Fuck, what was she doing to me? Did she even know? No one. No one said they could be themselves around me. Hell, I was so far from acting like myself these days it was laughable. The Max Holt that had enlisted in the Army when he was eighteen was so far away from the Max Holt of today.

All of it because five years ago, people didn't do what they were supposed to do. And I ended up making a decision because of it.

I couldn't listen to this. At least not if I expected to stay in control and at a safe distance. The warning I'd given her yesterday was applicable to me, as well. The Mafia was less stabby these days, what with how far DNA evidence had come and all of the cameras on all of the streets. But, that didn't mean you were safe if you crossed any lines.

And Madelyn Dimes was a line.

And considering my past and why I was here, I was already right up to the edge of pretty much all the lines at this point.

I needed to stay away from her.

If I wanted to live.

I needed to stay away from Madelyn Dimes.

"Did you enjoy your therapy session?" I asked crudely, totally dismissing everything she had just said.

She looked up at me. The brattiness was gone and it had been replaced by sadness.

Another knife slipped into my soul. It cried out, appealing to a heart that was long-since dead.

She wiped a stray tear off her face.

"You wouldn't understand," she mumbled and I felt her words deep inside me. Because they were so far from the truth. I let them hang there, before finally I couldn't take it any longer.

"Ready to go?"

She stood, her demeanor shifting as she put on an invisible mask. "Yeah," she said.

I hated knowing that I was the one to make her put it on.