The Billionaire and his female bodyguard

CLARA's POV

Clara Jones had a presence that could shift the atmosphere of a room in an instant.

When she first stepped foot in Fortress Watch Security Agency, the room was torn between admiration and intimidation. Standing at 5'8" with a lean yet powerful build, her movements were fluid but deliberate, like a predator constantly aware of her surroundings.

Her long, straight hair cascaded neatly, framing her sharp features, adding to the aura of professionalism and magnetism.

Her posture reflected years of training, and her calm demeanor softened her otherwise formidable presence. Clara exuded a blend of strength and elegance that commanded attention.

At 27 years old, she was one of the agency's top bodyguards, a woman with a reputation as sharp as her keen gaze. Beneath her tough exterior, there was a softness, a vulnerability, that occasionally caught people off guard, a reminder that despite her hardened shell, she was still human, capable of emotions, and dreams, in a world that demanded strength.

Beep! beep!! beep!!!

My phone buzzed at 6 a.m., dragging me out of sleep. I groggily checked the message from my boss.

"Hey Clara, I need you to report to the office by 7 a.m. You've been selected for special duty with the president's son. Don't be late. See you."

I stared at my phone, my stomach sinking as I reread the message. My heart began to race, and a bead of sweat formed on my temple despite the cool air in the room.

The president's son? The same man I had heard countless horror stories about from past agents?

My mind flashed back to the warnings I had overheard in the break room, the arrogant smirks, the biting remarks, and the utter disregard for anyone's effort or authority.

One agent had even called him "a walking nightmare in a tailored suit." I had laughed it off at the time, silently relieved it wasn't my problem. But now, it was.

I swallowed hard, gripping my phone tighter as anxiety clawed at me. Why me? I thought. MY schedule had been busy enough without this curveball. "Special duty" sounded more like a punishment than an honor to me.

Shaking my head, I exhaled sharply, trying to steady my nerves. Get it together, Clara, I told herself. It's just another assignment. How bad can he really be? But the unease remained, a quiet voice at the back of my mind whispering, You're about to find out.

I hurried through my morning routine, I threw on my standard black suit, nothing personal, just part of the uniform. Small makeup, no time for breakfast, my life had no room for anything but work. I quickly glanced at my watch: 6:40 a.m. There was no time to waste.

Downstairs, the familiar aroma of breakfast greeted me. My mother, still in her nightwear, was making her signature meal.

"Hey, Mom," I greeted, kissing her cheek.

"Good morning, Clara. You're up early. Any problem?"

"None to worry about," I assured her. "I've been assigned to the president's son for special duty. Big meeting, I guess."

She smiled proudly. "That's quite nice."

"I hope so," I muttered. "But remember, your daughter is the best at Fortress Watch, even if people look down on me for being a woman."

My mom laughed softly. "Of course, Clara. I trust you'll do a great job, no matter how others see you. But please, have some breakfast. You're losing weight."

"I'm fine, Mom," I said with a reassuring smile. "I'll grab something at work. I really have to go."

She hesitated but nodded. "At least take some coffee. It'll help you stay..."

"I love you, Mom. I'll see you tonight," I cut in, planting a kiss on her cheek before heading out.

It was 6:44 a.m. when I slipped into her car, donning my black shades and starting the engine. The street was quiet, making the drive smooth as I headed to the office.

ETHAN's POV

Ethan Smith, the president's son and one of the top billionaires, a 29 year old most eligible bachelor in the country.

With a fortune built on a combination of inherited wealth and top rated fashion business, he is the king of fashion and high finance.

Beyond boardrooms and business, his true circle is the sparkling world of luxury, low morals, and of course temporary romance.

He radiates an aura of power and sophistication , his presence commanding attention in every aspect.

His well-defined facial features, including a strong, angular jawline and high cheekbones, create a striking look that immediately conveys a sense of authority and distinction.

Everything about him speaks to a lifestyle of someone who thrives in high-powered fashion environments but still maintains a personal depth that draws others in.

Lastly, he is a playboy and a heartbreaker.

The sun's rays pierced through the curtains, landing squarely on my face and jolting me awake.

I glanced over at the girl from last night, still asleep beside me. No surprise there we'd had a wild night, and she was clearly exhausted. Not that I could blame her.

I sat up slowly, trying to piece together the chaos of the evening. My phone was nowhere in sight, probably lost in the haze of lust that had taken over.

I barely remembered where I had tossed my clothes, let alone the name of the girl next to me. Not that it mattered; this was just another notch on the belt of my carefree, indulgent lifestyle.

After rummaging through the room, I finally spotted my pants crumpled on the floor. Digging into the pocket,

I retrieved my phone, lying there innocently as if it hadn't been forgotten in the heat of passion. The screen lit up as I unlocked it. 6:34 a.m.

The time wasn't bad, but I couldn't afford to linger. I had a full schedule today, starting with an important meeting.

A major company was seeking to partner with mine, and it was a deal I couldn't afford to botch.

Of course, my dad, even the protective president, insisted I take a bodyguard along. He had made it clear this wasn't just about the meeting but about my status as the president's son.

Anywhere I go, he wants a bodyguard to follow. Naturally, I resisted the idea. I hated the thought of being trailed like some fragile heir, incapable of handling himself.

But after relentless persuasion, I finally gave in reluctantly.

Before heading to the bathroom, I turned back to the girl in my bed. I tapped her shoulder gently. When that didn't work, I gave her a firmer tap. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

"Hey, babe," she greeted, her hand reaching out to touch me.

"Babe?" I repeat, laughing. "Did you just call me 'babe'?" I asked, amused.

"Yes," she smiled. "I enjoyed last night. I thought there might be more this morning."

I stepped back quickly, watching as she almost fell off the bed in surprise.

"That's not happening," I said coldly. "Take the money and leave. Immediately." pointing to the cash on the nightstand.

Her face twisted with shock, her anger bubbling up.

"You bastard!" she screamed.

I barely reacted. "I get that a lot," I replied flatly. "Now, leave." I gestured to the door.

She gathered her clothes, muttering insults under her breath as she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I chuckled, shaking my head, before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. The familiar scent of my cologne lingered in the air, grounding me as I turned on the shower. A warm bath was exactly what I needed to shake off the remnants of the night before.

After the shower, I decided to dress in a classic navy blue suit, pairing it with a crisp white shirt and polished brown shoes.

My walk-in closet is a masterpiece of organization, everything arranged to complement my lifestyle. I styled my hair to perfection, I was ready to face the day.

Downstairs, my maid, Kate, greeted me. "Good morning, sir."

"Morning, Kate," I replied absently, my eyes still glued to his phone.

"I made breakfast, sir," she offered. "You're leaving later than usual today. Thought you might want something."

"No, I'll pass," I replied curtly. I stepped out the door, my driver, George was already waiting.

"Good morning, boss," George greeted, opening the car door for me.

"Morning, George," I said, slipping into the car. "We'll stop by the office to grab some documents, then head to the private conference room. I'm expecting a bodyguard too."

"Understood, boss," George replied, starting the car as he drove off into the city,