Page 7 of Guarded By the Phantom

After the cereal came time for the chocolate bars. The me on screen wasn’t tidy or graceful while she ate. No, she stuffed fistfuls of chocolate in her mouth and washed it all down with loud gulps of soda, getting wet and dirty in the process. When she belched, I closed my eyes and hid my face in my knees, but thankfully, my eyes were dry.

When the video ended, I sat in the tub, biting the inside of my lip as I tried to figure out if there was anything I could do. I knew it was too late to stop the video from spreading, since it was already viral. And not just because of the things I said about my father. That alone would have made it breaking news, but the recording of me stuffing my face and belching was what must have made it spread like wildfire.

It went so hard against the image my mother and the PR team had worked on for years. Whenever I appeared in the media, everything was meticulously orchestrated to show me in just the right light. I was either riding Snowflake, dancing ballet for some kind of charity event, or standing demurely behind my father, an appropriate smile on my face.

I was always impeccable, always smiling, always silent. Just as my mother wanted.

Some magazines called me the it girl of the generation. They discussed my outfits every time I went out, theorized about what my morning routine looked like, published made-up Barbara Ashford diets and exercise regimens.

Well, all of that would end now. Starting today, all the media attention I got would be nasty and horrible. Every stumble, every mistake I made, would feed the hungry machine. I couldn’t stop it. I was the fallen princess.

Maybe there were some ways to mitigate it. The PR team would release a statement saying I was under the control of terrorists or something similar. There would be a huge, publicized investigation into whoever did this. But I couldn’t help with those things. All I was supposed to do was what I always did.

Smile. Wave. No comment.

When I slid quietly into the back seat of my car, I had myself under control so rigid, some of my muscles felt numb. When Victor, my driver, caught my eye in the rearview mirror, I gave him the best smile I could muster, which came out small and pitiful. All my resources were engaged, keeping the scream that lived in my chest from spilling.

“Are you all right, miss?” he asked, the lines around his brown eyes deepening in a worried frown.

I nodded, clenching my teeth as another wave of nausea swirled in my belly, still empty, because I couldn’t swallow even a bite of breakfast.

As we set out, slowly navigating through a horde of paparazzi camping in front of our gates, I bitterly thought how ironic it was.

My driver thought to ask me how I was, but my own mother didn’t.

Chapter 3

Phantom

She had to be on meds. That was my conclusion as I watched my new principal direct her horse in a gentle trot around the obstacles. She seemed almost serene up there in the saddle, her face relaxed, body perfectly in sync with the white horse.

Some powerful tranquilizers had to be at work, though maybe not. They would have impaired her ability and judgment. Which meant there was only one other option: she didn’t know.

I frowned. Could it be possible her folks didn’t tell her about the video? She was young and sheltered according to the file I got this morning. Barely twenty-three, she lived a fairytale life of horseriding and ballet, spending her days in her family’s mansion, her evenings at galas and charity events, sparkling with diamonds.

Destined for some kind of Prince Charming that would make the best match for her father’s career, she was, indeed, a modern princess.

Why, then, wasn’t she locked up in a tower? I wasn’t officially her bodyguard yet. I hadn’t signed the contract, because the lawyers who presented it added a long appendix of “Conduct Standards” that I refused to sign. Fatima negotiated with them while I was here. Watching the princess.

It wasn’t the usual way I did things. For one, I never looked too deeply into the principal before starting the job, because I was always more interested in the threat. Most jobs that landed in my lap were not general protection assignments. I got the clients who suddenly became threatened because they gained an enemy or a stalker.

What I did wasn’t just protection. I did the MSA’s wet work as bodyguard and assassin in one.

My main job was to neutralize threats, so that was what I focused on. Yet with Barbara, the target was too vague to be useful. I asked my assistant in the office to prepare me an in-depth report on mind manipulation, but that was barely the beginning.

My best bet was to lurk in the dark and get him when he came for the girl again.Ifhe came for her. I really hoped he would, because then I could get him and be done with the job.

Fatima often joked I had commitment issues because I didn’t do long-term protection. My preferred method of protecting a client was to get rid of the threat permanently, so that was my goal here. I’d find those bastards. By the time I was done with them, not only would they not be able to control other people, they’d lose control over their own bowels, as well.

And Barbara would be safe.

I hissed softly, looking away from the graceful figure on the white horse.Barbara.That was another thing I never did, and it was learning their names. Like with my last pro bono. I still didn’t know her name and didn’t care to know it, because Jordan was my main focus, not her.

Now, I couldn’t help it. In the absence of a clear-cut target, I focused on my principal, and her name already sat in my brain like an unwanted weight.

A shadow moving next to a clump of bushes to my right caught my eye. I turned, squinting out from my hiding place in the shade of a large apple tree. A paparazzi crouched low behind the bush, fiddling with his camera.

I looked over at Barbara as she circled the show jumping course easily, warming up. I knew the stable had a stringent no-paparazzi policy. I only got in after showing the guard by the gate my MSA badge.

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