The Bodyguard

The Beach

Emilia stares at herself in the mirror, tracing a thin line down her stomach before turning to the side, sucking it in as much as possible as she observes her bikini. It didn't look that bad, she had never been the skinniest of girls but the halter top and small bottom did make her look pretty good. She didn't like how much of her stomach it shows off, she likes her curves, the skinny waist, but then there's that little pouch at the bottom of her stomach and little slouch in her back that had her feeling self-conscious, not to mention the obvious cellulite just below her decently perky ass.

She supposes it will have to do, she shrugs mentally as she adjusts the halter a little, jiggling her boobs to try and get the stupid thing situated more comfortably. That was one of the few things she liked about her body, they were decent size and had her feeling good about her chest since she at least had one thing to show off.

Quickly sliding on the white romper she uses as a coverup, she grabs a random towel she had found in the bathroom closet. It wasn't necessarily a beach towel, but she knew Mr. Delmont could definitely afford more if she managed to ruin it with some sand. Lastly, she yanks her only pair of sandals onto her feet, the little wedge making her feel a good deal taller than normal even if they only increase height by about an inch to two at most. She supposed when you are as short as she is, any height increase makes a difference.

Pulling her hair out of the messy bun she had used to apply a layer of waterproof mascara, she brushes it out quickly before running her fingers through the frizz with some hair oil that she very rarely used. She wasn't entirely sure why she was trying so hard to look decent for a ruse, but if she was to be out in public with someone as good looking as him, she had to at least not look like total trash. 

Trying to smile at her reflection, she lets it fall relatively quickly as she grabs her phone, one of the books she had brought with her, and the towel, shoving some sunglasses atop her head just in case before stepping out of her room once more. 

She wasn't sure why she had expected him to be waiting for her, when he had told her he would be out in the car, but the pang of disappointment was a clear signal in her chest that she desperately needs to get over this man before he breaks her heart.

Hurrying down to the front door and stepping outside, Emilia finds the car waiting, as usual, impressed by his efficiency. As she steps outside, he moves around the car and opens the door for her, allowing her to climb in before the door closes and he gets in the front seat.

Feeling very awkward and self-conscious she brushes a piece of hair behind her ear and looks out the window, completely avoiding his eyes as they try to catch her gaze in the mirror.

"Are you certain you want to go to Stone Edge Beach?" He asks, his voice saying that he hopes it is a no, but she disappoints him by responding with a resounding yes.

With an audible sigh, the car is put into gear and they pull out of the mansion at high speeds. It is odd, she thinks, no matter how over the speed limit he drives, she never feels in any danger of a crash, but perhaps that is simply him, he does seem to have that effect.

She thinks to herself, trying to hide the little smile that presses against her lips at the mere thought of him. Why had he gotten into her head so easily? It was unnerving that he had managed it, and she was most definitely not a fan, or at least, she told herself that.

The next hour of the car ride is completely silent and consists alternatively  of her staring out the window and playing random games on her phone or hoping that Jazz will actually respond to her texts. She had sent roughly ten at this point, and for a girl that's always on her phone, she isn't responding which is odd.

Sighing softly she shoves the device into her bag and presses the button to try and lower her window. Only, it doesn't move, there is a soft click and she gapes slightly, did he seriously have her window on child lock?

Shooting him a little glare she sneakily reaches around his seat, leaning as far forward as she can to try and reach the button that has that little lock sign for her window, determined not to speak to him.

"Miss Emilia, is something the matter?" Alexander asks, smooth as ever as one hand grabs her wrist, pulling her a little further forward so her forehead is now resting on the back of his headrest and she can't exactly move with the seat belt doing a little choking.

"No, I was just hoping to roll down my window and I didn't want to bother you." It wasn't exactly a lie, but she had the bad feeling he could feel her breath speeding up on the back of his neck and her pulse racing beneath his fingers.

Ever so gently, he rubs the back of her hand with his thumb, and though she can't see his face, she has the horrible feeling that he is greatly enjoying the current situation.

"It is no bother, but is there a reason that you have been refusing to look or speak to me since breakfast?" The inquiry seems innocent enough, but she can feel her pulse going even faster, not particularly wanting to answer it.

"N-no, not particularly." She winces at the stammer in her voice, even though he isn't looking at her, he is still affecting her far more than he should be. She can feel his fingers tracing her own, gently rubbing along them, massaging, coaxing the tense muscles to react.

"Emilia, are you lying to me?" He asks, his voice colder but still calm. All her attention is on what her hand is being subjected to and not wanting it to stop. The situation was so intimate and very much a distraction from what she was telling him.

"Yes" She whispers, but her mouth so close to his ear that she knows he can hear her.

"So, why are you not speaking to me?" 

"Because I don't know if I should trust you." She lets it slip, she doesn't mean to tell him, but it escapes her lips before she can do anything about it.

"Why would you not trust me?"

"Because you work for Mr. Delmont, I don't know you, I don't know your intentions or. .  anything, and you won't tell me."

His hand grips a little tighter but still continues the very nice massage that had her hand feeling relaxed and not wanting to move despite the uncomfortable position of her neck.

"Because I am protecting you, Emilia, and that is all I intend."

Emilia can't stop herself from asking what she really wants to know at that moment, "Then why have you kissed me?"

"Because I like you."

The answer is so simple, she doesn't know how to respond to it as he finally lets go of her hand and she sinks back into her seat, holding her left hand in her lap, it is so relaxed that it doesn't want to move, her fingers curling slowly and refusing to hold much of a grip. Could it be true? Did he really just like her? How could a guy like him, someone that could get anyone, like her?

"And the window stays closed, for your safety." 

"Oh"

Her only response, the only thing her tired and overactive brain can comprehend as she looks back out the window to realize they had arrived, the rocky beach nearly empty. 

Shakily, she takes hold of her little canvas bag that holds everything, and as the door opens a hand reaches out for her own. For the first time, instead of just opening the door, he was helping her out, and she can't help but to hesitate. Should she take his hand? Did she want to take his hand?

Taking a deep breath, she goes against her better judgement and takes it gently with her left hand, allowing him to pull her out of the car and to his side, the strength in his one arm more than in her entire body at that moment as she is pulled close to his chest, just not enough to touch him. She still refuses to look him in the eye though as she murmurs a thank you, dropping his hand as she goes to move away.

As she takes the first step, the hand regrips hers and spins her to face him again, a finger under her chin making her look at him again.

"And Emilia, I know that you feel the same way, so don't try and tell me otherwise." He whispers beside her ear before dropping her arm and closing the door, moving to the trunk where he had apparently brought a real beach towel, chair and umbrella though she wanted to be in the sun.

She turns and walks to the beach, her legs shaking slightly and her left hand still unable to clench into a fist as she tries to ignore her pounding heart, maybe these feelings weren't so bad, just maybe. She hopes as she chooses a place on the beach with plenty of sun and a beautiful view of the waves.