Bossy Bodyguard: Bodyguard/ Ex’s Dad Age Gap Romance (Dominating Desires Book 3)
Bossy Bodyguard: Part 4 – Chapter 51

I winced, wiping the blood from my head, and sped my car. My cellphone was in my other hand as I noted her location and shared it to Elena’s team. I had called her, ignoring her order to stay back, and got in my car.

My vision was blurry, but I kept driving, my hand clutching the steering wheel. He lived so fucking near her house, and all that time was wasted because we did not get search warrants.

I prayed that Emma kept her heels on by some miracle. I had inserted a tracking device in each pair she owned, hoping that I’d never have to use them

We shouldn’t have underestimated the stalker. Look what he fucking did.

My jaw clenched, and I cut the engine, parking blocks away from the house. It was a quiet suburban street with huge bungalows on each side of the road. No wonder no one suspected him, even though he seemed fucking weird. If he was loaded, no one would bat an eye.

I checked the time on my watch and took a deep breath. The normal protocol was to wait for the team, surround the house, enter and seize the stalker and bring the hostage to safety. But I didn’t give a fuck about it when Emma was the hostage.

Checking my gun, I pulled off the safety and marched towards the house. I was going to save her, no matter what. I promised her.

And that’s when I heard her scream.

Emma

My lips parted when I looked around the vast ceiling and golden chandelier. The house was empty, with just a small dining table and two chairs, barely anything else. But it was enormous.

“It’s very… luxurious,” I said, our steps echoing on the floor when he sat me down on the chair. He pulled the other one closer and patted my bare shoulder. I held back my wince and kept smiling.

“I’m glad that you think so. I wanted you to decorate it so I haven’t done anything yet since I got it.”

“Got it?” I tilted my head, and he chuckled.

“Right, my name.” His dark gray eyes seemed familiar under the light and I held my breath when he said, “I’m Drake.”

Drake? Where have I heard that name before? Why does it seem familiar?

I looked at him once again and swallowed. “Drake… N-no.”

“Yes, I’m Drake Grant, little Emma,” he grinned, his hand squeezing my shoulder. “Do you remember me now? How we used to play hide and seek all the time and promised to live together?”

What the fuck? I stared at him. My head swirling with all the memories of my childhood. I remembered playing with Damon… and yes, I remembered bits and pieces of it.

My mother married a famous director, Miles Grant, who made cringey young adult movies with young girls. He already had a son, Drake, from his previous marriage, where his wife died mysteriously. When mom got married to him, they both had Damon and me. I was a kid when they split up, so I didn’t remember him, but Damon went to live with him, keeping his last name.

How the fuck was I supposed to remember Drake when I had been four at the time?

“I was a kid, Drake,” I said slowly and gently.

“So?” he chuckled, touching my hair and petting me as if I was his fucking dog. “You were such a cute little kid back then. I always called you little Emma when we played together.”

“With Damon?”

He scoffed, pulling away and rolling his eyes. “Damon was stupid. Never understood anything and always cried when I told him not to play with you.”

“Why?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know his answer.

“Because you’re mine, little Emma,” he said, his eyes gleaming with lust when they roved over my body and I remembered I was still in that dress. The one which Cillian helped me zip up after sewing it so carefully. Cillian. I wanted Cillian.

“I’m yours?” I asked, still playing dumb, trying to unlock the cuffs underneath the table. But the damn thing wouldn’t budge.

“Yes, you’re mine. I claimed you when you were a kid. But you were so wild that I let you experiment with that Caleb boy.” My hands froze, and I kept my eyes on him when his face twisted into an evil laugh. “Did you hear how he fucking whimpered like a girl when I kicked him? And that ugly bodyguard, too! Both are so fucking weak. And ugly.” He leaned closer and kissed my nose. “They can’t protect you like I can, little Emma. I’m your half-brother after all.”

I hummed, clenching my hands into a fist. I tried to change the subject. “Can I remove the heels? They’re hurting my feet—”

“No,” he said sharply. “I like how you look in heels. Keep them on.”

I watched him walk towards the kitchen and looked around to replace something blunt or hard, but the entire place was empty.

“Honestly, I should’ve just kept you in the fucking cell until you learned some manners,” he said angrily when he slammed a plate on the kitchen counter, making me jump. “First, you ignore my messages and then got a bodyguard, and slept with him like a fucking whore! When I tried to save you from that creep, you hurt me!”

He was screaming, banging the drawers shut when he poured something on a plate and walked back to the dining area. I stayed frozen, keeping my lips shut because the asshole had lost it.

“Are you even going to fucking apologize, you little bitch!” he shouted, leaning close and trying to intimidate me.

It hurt that it was working. I said in a meek voice, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?!” he asked, sitting down on the chair, his nose flaring when he ate the gross-looking puddle of mush that looked like badly cooked mashed potatoes. “You hurt me! Your love!”

I licked my lips and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you and… your face was covered, so I didn’t know.”

His jaw was working as he put down his fork and spoon. “Do you mean that, little Emma?”

I smiled and placed my hand on his, the clink of the cuffs dragging against the table. “Of course, I do, Drake.”

He nodded, looking down at my hand. “Okay, I believe you.” He continued eating while I stared at the fork. “I don’t like what you’ve done to yourself.”

“Sorry?”

“You’ve gotten fat. Very chubby too,” he said, a scowl on his face as he pushed his plate away and leaned back. “You’ve got to get in shape, so I’m going to give you one meal a day until you get your sexy little body again.”

My throat went dry. I didn’t know what to utter. All the fear that I had for the arrogant, delusional man sitting near me evaporated into anger. I was about to snatch the fork and stab his eyes when he pushed his chair from the table and patted his thigh.

“Come on, you can start apologizing to your dear stepbrother by sucking me off.” He unzipped his pants, lowering them to his ankles as I stared at him. The scar on his thigh. “And make it good and sloppy. I’ve seen you give a blowie to that ugly muck of your bodyguard.”

“What else have you seen, dear Drake?”

“What haven’t I done and seen for you, my little Emma!” He said it like he was proud of it. “You know, I tried to be nice and talk to your bitch of a mother and get her blessings, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

My heart stopped and I stared at him. “You talked to m-my mom?”

“Of course, I did. For you, little Emma,” he crooned. “But she insulted me, called securities on me and told me to stay away from you. She insulted me so I killed her.”

My eyes burned, looking down at the floor. They were right, mom’s death wasn’t an accident. It was murder. He killed her because she tried to protect me.

“I killed Lincoln for you,” he smiled as if reminiscing about it. “Remember that dirty old lawyer?”

I nodded, wanting him to continue.

“I was there, hiding in the study when he touched your shoulder and said those things to you, little Emma,” he said, his smile widening as if he loved telling me how he watched me get harassed and did nothing. “I let it go because you were young.”

“So you killed him recently.”

“Yes, I needed to get revenge on him.” He was serious. “I’ll bring you that Caleb and that bodyguard’s head, too, so you are not scared anymore, okay?”

My throat burned, my hand shaking with anger when he kept spouting bullshit.

“Don’t worry about the silly stuff. Come on, suck me off!” He was whining, begging me to suck his dick.

I kneeled on the floor and looked at him. “Can you keep your hands on the chair? I want to try a new thing. You will love it, Drake.”

He instantly got hard, bile rising in my mouth when I gave him a tight-lipped smile as he kept his hand on the arms of the chair.

“Hurry!”

“Yes, Drake.”

I calmed my heart. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled slowly when I got closer between his legs. His ankles were still in his pants. I could do it. Cillian had taught me how to defend myself. I could do it.

With my eyes laser focused, I grabbed the fork and slammed it down on the scar that was on his left thigh. The fork dug into his skin and he yelped in surprise and pain. I pulled it away and stabbed him with it again, glaring at him.

“You like that, you piece of shit!” I cried out and pulled away when he tried to grab my hair. I was still wearing the damn heels when I crawled away from him.

“I trusted you!” he groaned, his thigh bleeding as he limped towards me. “You are a bitch and a whore! I’ll treat you like one!”

I tried to stand up, but he slapped me, making me yelp when pain rang on my cheek through my body.

“Stop!” I screamed when he pushed me down, pinning my hands over my head and tugging at my dress. “Get off me!”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m going to breed you with my babies, you fucking whore!” His hands were harsh. Tears spilled out of my eyes and I tried to get ahold of something, anything.

“Stop!” I begged, pushing him, but he was too strong—Cillian was also strong, but he sprawled on the mat when I had tried it.

Using my hands, I jabbed his throat and when his grip loosened, I pushed him off of me with all my strength and stood up. Scrambling away, I picked up the bloody fork in my shaking hands.

“You’re dead to me, little Emma,” he spit out, rubbing his throat when he stood up. “I’m going to fuck you and kill you.”

“I dare you to touch me again, you asshole!” I shouted at him, tears sliding down my face, when I looked over his shoulder and started sobbing.

Finally.

Drake yelled, ready to pounce on me when he jumped in. I slumped on the floor, covering myself.