Seducing My Bodyguard

LISA

It was eleven at night.

The line outside the club stretched halfway down the block.

I didn’t have to wait in it.

Our car pulled beneath a black canopy at the side entrance, where a man in a black suit opened my door and greeted me by name.

Beyond him, a hostess waited to take my jacket.

No checklist.

No questions.

Just a discreet smile and a private lift already waiting.

My father’s assistant had handled the reservation.

Sophie, my best friend, had handled everything else.

Apparently, everything else included an entire floor of the most exclusive club in the city.

At the top of the stairs, deep-red roses climbed around a glowing sign bearing my name. Beneath it, glossy gift bags crowded a table, their thick ribbons spilling over one another.

A photographer stood nearby, lowering his camera as we stepped out of the lift.

For a moment, I just looked.

The mezzanine curved around the main dance floor, separated from the drop by smoked-glass railings.

Below us, bodies moved beneath shifting lights, faces appearing and disappearing in flashes of gold and violet.

Up here, everything glowed.

Small lamps illuminated marble tables and silver ice buckets. Burgundy velvet booths formed intimate circles around arrangements of roses.

Behind the private bar, amber light shone through rows of bottles, and a bartender was already pouring something into a line of waiting glasses.

The music reached me through the soles of my heels.

There were no plastic cups, no paper wristbands, no one leaning across the bar trying to catch somebody’s attention.

A server appeared beside me almost immediately. “Happy birthday, Miss Lisa.”

I accepted a glass from his tray. “Thank you.”

Twenty-one.

It ought to have felt different.

Instead, I was painfully aware of the man standing just behind my shoulder—and the fact that he hadn’t said one word about my dress.

“Turn around,” Sophie demanded. She appeared in front of me before I could take a sip, her silver dress catching the light with every step.

Sophie had never needed much help drawing attention. Her blonde hair fell in thick, loose waves over one shoulder, and her hazel eyes held the unmistakable gleam of someone already enjoying herself.

The dress glittered over her voluptuous figure, its plunging neckline and fitted waist giving way to a short skirt that shimmered whenever she moved.

On anyone else, it might have looked like an outfit chosen for a grand entrance.

On Sophie, it looked entirely natural.

“Hello to you too.”

“I’ve seen the front. I need to appreciate the whole decision.”

I rolled my eyes, but I turned.

She made a delighted sound. “Oh, your father would hate that.”

“That wasn’t the only consideration.”

“No. Of course not.” Her gaze slipped past my shoulder.

I refused to follow it. I had already looked at Alex three times since leaving the car.

He was near the entrance now, speaking quietly with the club’s head of security. Even in a room full of men who paid considerable money to look impressive, he was difficult to overlook.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a lean, athletic build that his dark suit did very little to disguise.

I knew how strong he was from the effortless way he handled heavy doors and luggage, but there was nothing bulky about him. Every movement seemed measured, economical.

His white shirt was open at the throat, without a tie. I had been trying not to notice that since he arrived at my apartment.

I wasn’t doing particularly well.

He was too handsome for his own good. A strong jaw, dark brows, and a mouth that rarely smiled but became unfairly distracting whenever it did.

Nothing about him suggested he had spent the drive sitting beside a woman who had chosen her entire outfit with him in mind.

Which was unfortunate.

Because I had.

The dress was red—not burgundy, not some subtle shade I could pretend had been an understated choice. A rich, vivid scarlet that made my usual wardrobe look apologetic.

The fabric clung to me from my bust to my hips. There were no loose folds, no clever draping, nothing to soften the shape of my body beneath it. Thin straps held up a low, square neckline, and the back dipped beneath my shoulder blades.

And it was short, barely covering my butt.

Walking required care.

Sitting was a problem I had decided to leave for later.

I had spent an hour in front of my bedroom mirror, turning sideways, looking over my shoulder, asking myself whether it was too much.

Then I’d imagined Alex looking up when I walked into the room.

That had settled it.

My heels were red too, with narrow straps around my ankles. I’d left my black hair loose down my back and kept my jewelry simple—diamond earrings, a bracelet, and a ring I was currently twisting around my finger.

Sophie caught my hand. “Stop.”

“What?”

“Second-guessing.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re trying to unscrew your finger.”

I let go of the ring.

She leaned back to look at me again. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you.” I meant it.

I just wish the compliment had come from someone else. I swallowed the small ache in my throat.

Across the entrance, Alex finished his conversation.

His gaze found me.

I straightened without meaning to.

For a moment, he didn’t look away.

Neither did I.

Then the lift opened behind me, and his attention shifted to the arriving guests.

Of course it did.

“There she is.” Oliver approached carrying a narrow gift bag and wearing the sort of smile that had probably never failed him.

He was attractive, with blue eyes and blond hair, and bangs covering his forehead. His navy suit fitted him beautifully, but the open collar and relaxed smile kept him from looking as though he’d come straight from a meeting.

He kissed my cheek, then stepped back. “Happy birthday. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

There. Simple.

He’d looked at me. He’d noticed. He’d said something.

Apparently, it was possible.

Oliver handed his gift to a waiting member of staff and offered me his arm. “May I escort you to your own party?”

“Only if you promise not to make a speech.”

“I prepared something.”

“Burn it.”

“Twenty-one has made you cruel.”

I laughed and took his arm.

Our friends had claimed the largest booth, a broad horseshoe of velvet overlooking the dance floor.

Tiny handbags and discarded jackets occupied the few empty places.

Bottles rested in silver buckets, and someone had already arranged a collection of glasses into a precarious tower.

At one end of the table, two brothers were arguing about a villa their families had rented the previous summer.

At the other, a girl I knew from school held her phone above the roses, searching for the perfect angle.

“Birthday girl,” Sophie announced.

Everyone turned.

Then I was being hugged, kissed on both cheeks, and pulled toward the table. Someone took my drink so someone else could embrace me.

A hand straightened my hair.

Another pressed a gift into my palm before a server gently offered to put it with the others.

For a few minutes, I forgot to look for Alex.

Sophie insisted on photographs beneath the sign.

Oliver stood beside the photographer, offering instructions nobody had requested.

“Chin up.”

“It is up.”

“More regal.”

“It’s my birthday, Oliver. Not a coronation.”

“Your father booked an entire floor. Forgive my confusion.”

I laughed just as the camera flashed.

Then we were settling into the booth, and I discovered that sitting in my dress required more concentration than I’d anticipated.

I eased onto the velvet, keeping one hand discreetly over the hem.

Sophie leaned toward me. “That dress wasn’t intended for sitting.”

“I’m discovering that.”

I crossed my legs and reached for my glass.

From my seat, I could see almost the whole mezzanine.

The bar. The stairs. The entrance.

And Alex.

He stood a few feet beyond the end of our booth, close enough to reach me quickly but far enough away not to look like part of the party.

He was very good at that.

Being near me without ever quite being with me.

For two years, he’d occupied the edges of my life. Outside doors. Beside cars. Across crowded rooms.

Somewhere in those two years, I had stopped thinking of him as the man my father had hired to keep me safe.

I wasn’t sure he had ever stopped thinking of me as the assignment.

A server bent beside the table. “May I bring you something to eat?”

I glanced at the tray. Tiny lobster rolls, delicate pastries, something topped with caviar.

“Not yet, thank you.”

Across the room, Alex looked toward the untouched plates in front of me.

I knew what was coming before he moved.

He approached the open side of the booth and bent slightly so I could hear him. “Have you eaten?”

I tipped my face toward his.

This close, I could see the faint texture of his shirt and the little crease between his brows. “Yes.”

He waited.

I sighed. “Not recently.”

“Have something.”

“It’s my birthday.”

“I’m aware.”

“I was hoping that might earn me a less practical conversation.”

The corner of his mouth moved. Barely.

I watched it anyway and my heart skipped a few happy beats.

Then his eyes lowered and my pulse stumbled.

Finally.

He reached toward my wrist. “Your bracelet’s coming undone.”

I looked down. The clasp hung open.

For one ridiculous second, I considered letting the whole thing fall.

Instead, I put down my glass and fastened it.

Alex waited until I finished. Even then, his attention flicked briefly toward the stairs, where another group had arrived.

“Thank you,” I said.

His gaze returned to mine. “You’re welcome.”

Then he straightened and stepped away.

Sophie watched him go. “Oh, darling.”

“Don’t.”

“You looked so hopeful.”

“I said don’t.”

She put a small plate in front of me.

“Eat something before you declare war.”

I picked up a miniature pastry.

The menu had been explained to me when we arrived. Everything had sounded expensive and exquisite.

At this moment, it tasted mostly like sand and disappointment.

Across the mezzanine, Alex resumed his place near the entrance.

Had he really not noticed?

I glanced down at my dress.

There was very little of me left to the imagination. I’d known that when I put it on. I’d liked it when I put it on.

Now I was suddenly conscious of the neckline. My bare thighs. The hem I had already tugged into place twice.

Maybe he had noticed.

Maybe he simply didn’t care for it.

I hated that thought more than I wanted to admit.

Then I looked up.

Alex was watching me.

Not scanning past me. Not checking the people behind my booth.

Really looking at me and my pulse stupidly stumbled again.

His gaze lifted to my face almost immediately.

Almost.

Heat spread beneath my skin.

Before I could decide what to do with it, Sophie stood and raised her glass. “To Lisa.”

A/N October 27, 2026

Trying out a short story for fun :) enjoy!