Bossy Bodyguard: Bodyguard/ Ex’s Dad Age Gap Romance (Dominating Desires Book 3)
Bossy Bodyguard: Part 2 – Chapter 14

PART II

“Why did my ex’s dad have to be so hot?”

I didn’t expect to see the handsome man again. In my house out of all places. My eyes drifted from his thick hair to the exposed skin of his neck. I could see a hint of more tattoos. The suit he was wearing was different from before. It was much darker and fitted his large frame perfectly.

He extended his hand, introducing himself. “I’m Cillian. Nice to see you again, Emma.”

Cillian. My throat felt a bit sore from screaming his name all night.

“Damon Grant,” my brother said, shaking his hand while I was still processing that Cillian was in front of me. “You met at the club?”

“Y-yes,” I muttered, pulling the blanket closer and glancing at Cillian, looking away when his deep eyes were still on me. They made me wary and nervous. I shivered, for a completely different reason, and continued, “He saved me. Twice.”

Meeting his eyes, I whispered, “Thank you, Cillian.”

He nodded at me and looked at Damon. “What happened?”

My body froze, remembering the events from last night as sleeplessness and exhaustion tugged at me. I was going to be late for school, but I just… couldn’t.

Damon sighed and showed him my phone. “There’s more. Upstairs, in her room. I’ll be right back, okay? I can ask Mis—”

“No.” I stood up, scrunching the blanket around me. “I’ll come with you. I’m fine.”

Cillian’s eyes were burning the side of my face, but I didn’t dare look at him. Because if I did, I would break. He would know how truly shaken I was. How scared and anxious I was.

“Someone sent her this text when she was coming back home.”

Cillian looked over his shoulder at me. “Were you alone, or was there someone with you?”

“No. My driver was driving.”

He nodded, looking at the paintings hung by the wall as we climbed upstairs. My knees buckled, but I was more furious than scared. I didn’t care about anything else right now than to know who had the audacity to play with me, Emma fucking Moore.

If mom was alive, she’d threaten, torture and even kill that person by herself. Not because I’m her daughter, but because someone decided to scare a Moore. She wouldn’t stand by in a blanket if it was her.

Damon paused just before my room. The white double doors were open from when I had rushed downstairs in the middle of the night and called nine-one-one.

Another reason I was mad at Damon was that he had talked with the cops before they could investigate the scene and scolded me for calling them. Giving me yet another lecture on how it’d look bad in the paper and tabloids. That private security would be better than cops.

“Are you sure—”

I glared at Damon. “I am sure. This is my room.”

I walked past the two men even though my body hated going into the room. Everything was still the same. My lilac, pink, and white comforter on the enormous bed, the dresses I had tried on the day before still scattered on the floor, my strewn makeup and perfume collection with my heels placed neatly on the white shelves.

“When I came back home, I-I wanted to shower and when I entered the bathroom, I saw… this.”

The door was open so all of us could see the words written on the mirror above the sink.

I bought a new pair, don’t worry. Hope you like the present.

With a heart in the end in my red Chanel lipstick. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror or the sink. It made bile rise in my throat.

Even Damon averted his eyes.

But Cillian didn’t care. He walked right inside the washroom, his polished shoes silent on the soft white rug. He was hard to read when he inspected my underwear. I covered my arms, trying to rub off the goosebumps and watched him kneel and tilt his head at the pastel box near the bath.

“Is this yours?” he asked, his voice deep.

I shook my head. “I-it’s not. Someone… I don’t know how it got there. O-or who put it there.”

“Interesting,” Cillian whispered, standing up and pulling out his phone. I took a step back when he moved from the washroom back to my room, speaking to someone on the phone.

“What do you think this is?” Damon asked, his phone trilling in his pants, but he ignored it. “Intruder?”

Cillian ended the call and glanced at us. Like before, I couldn’t stand the intensity in his eyes and looked away. I don’t know why they made me so uncomfortable though they seemed familiar. It was odd. And very infuriating.

“I’ve called forensic to take your underwear and that box, and to check your room. I need to talk—”

“Wait,” my brother interrupted. “I didn’t agree to have more people involved in this. Can’t you replace who did it?”

Cillian hummed and slid his hands in his pockets. He looked so out of place in my white and pink room with his dark clothes and large frame. Even though my room was as big as that suite, Cillian made it look tiny by just standing in it.

“Let me ask you this, Damon, would you ever let a twelve-year-old kid drive your McLaren GT?”

I raised my brows and turned to Damon.

“Of course not. He’s a kid.”

“So, I’m sure you’ll understand why I need a team to look over her room. I don’t specialize in lab work, but they do. Now, do you mind if I talk to your sister alone?”

“I do min—” Damon stopped when his phone rang for the umpteenth time. He glanced at me and I rolled my eyes at him.

“We can talk in the guest room, Mister Cillian,” I said, not waiting for his answer when I saw the dark glint in his eyes.

It ran through my entire body, making me very aware of what I was wearing—absolutely nothing, underneath the blanket.

“Sure, Emma,” he whispered, his voice smooth and soft and making me feel unsteady on my feet.

This man is starting to feel like trouble.

Could I really talk to him alone in a room with a closed door after what happened?