Page 1 of Snowed in with the Bodyguard

Chapter 1

Holly

The stack of envelopes on my desk mocks me like a row of unopened doors I’m too afraid to walk through. Twelve letters, each from universities, waiting for me to step into a life beyond these suffocating walls. Ivy League, state schools, places where I could finally be free of my father’s control. Each one is a path, a step out of my father’s iron grasp

But freedom comes at a price, and my father’s enemies have ensured that price is too steep. Two years ago, the threats against him escalated, and suddenly, leaving wasn’t just a question of courage—it was a matter of survival. My father refused to let me out of his sight, his fear for my safety cloaked in his usual guise of control and manipulation. So, I stayed.

With a small huff, I turn away, resisting the pull to engage with decisions I’m not ready to confront, not while my life is so tightly controlled.

My desk—a delicate, princess-like piece my father chose for me years ago—feels insulting now, a symbol of his continued influence over my life. My entire room, bathed in shades of white and pink, designed to his precise specifications, is morelike a dollhouse than a personal space. My existence is carefully curated, every choice molded to fit his image of me, leaving little room for independence or freedom.

Needing an escape, I turn to my vanity table, brushing my hair back with a headband as I prepare for breakfast. Despite the soft light streaming through my window, my reflection shows the telltale signs of last night’s Christmas celebration—the tired pallor of my skin and the faint shadows under my eyes. It’s not the first time my father’s demand for a family breakfast has clashed with my desire for a late night. My father is lenient in many ways, but breakfast is non-negotiable. Each minute I’m late will result in one day without my credit card privileges, a punishment he’s carried out more than once. In his eyes, family breakfast is a ritual to assert control, and nothing as minor as a late night will sway him.

I quickly apply makeup, my hands moving with the speed of practice. Bronzer warms my tired skin, and a few smudges of green concealer mask the slight purple hue beneath my eyes. I need a few more hours of sleep to truly erase the signs of last night, but I know better than to let fatigue slow me down. My face, finally prepared, bears a polished look that will satisfy even my father’s sharp eye.

Moving to my closet, I choose a Camilla dress in a warm auburn that highlights my eyes, the fabric light and luxurious as it drapes over me. I may be plus-sized, but the dress flows elegantly, its kimono sleeves adding an effortless grace. A white cardigan gives it a softer look, and I finish with a pair of gold high-heeled sandals. My reflection stares back at me, showing a young woman who looks refined, almost pristine, though the hint of weariness in my gaze betrays me. With a last adjustmentto my hair, I set off for the dining room, mentally bracing myself for what lies ahead.

The halls are silent as I make my way down the cream-carpeted corridor. The thick pile muffles my footsteps, each one heavier as I approach the dining room. My gaze drifts across the polished decor—another carefully orchestrated reminder of my father’s hold on our lives. The cold hardwood floors in the dining room greet me, contrasting sharply with the warmth of my bedroom’s decor.

Outside the door stands a familiar figure: Jack Cooper. He oversees all aspects of my father’s security, a shadow who’s become an ever-present part of my life over the last two years. His presence looms, dark and imposing, a constant reminder that my father’s control extends even to my daily movements. I avoid looking directly at him, though his nearness sends a prickle of awareness up my spine. Jack is no ordinary bodyguard; his reputation precedes him, and I experience a strange, forbidden fascination that unsettles me every time I see him.

Inside the dining room, my father sits at the head of the table, his expression sharp and unreadable as he looks me over. He observes me with a flick of his hand over his tablet, nodding toward the empty chair beside him. “Holly, you’ll sit beside me this morning,” he says, his tone is cool and decisive.

My father’s request is unexpected. Usually, my older brother Harry sits there, dutifully following the silent rules of our family dynamic. Today, Harry is on my mother’s right, eating his fruit with a careful precision that reflects our family’s unspoken order.

My mother looks at me from her seat, her gaze warm and questioning. Her silent expression asks,Did you enjoy yourself last night? Was it worth it?

I return her look with a slight nod, but neither of us dare to speak until my father has finished.

“You will have a bodyguard from now on, Holly. So will you, Lucinda,” he adds, casting a brief look at my mother, who accepts his words with a quiet nod. There’s no point in resisting his decisions. My father’s will is absolute.

“Jack is out in the hall now,” he continues, his voice sharp as he looks at me. “Do not try to evade him, Holly. Your life depends on it.”

His words hit me like a shock, though I school my expression, keeping it neutral and unreadable.

What has he done now?

The questions simmer inside me, but I know better than to ask. Any sign of protest, any hint of resistance, will only earn a harsh rebuke. My father’s gaze lingers on me, assessing, as though daring me to defy him.

Jack, the silent figure by the doorway, looms in my thoughts. I know he’s more than a hired guard. He’s a man of few words, with a reputation as contained and ruthless as my father’s.

Yet, in my private musings, he’s become something else—a dark mystery, an unsettling curiosity. I’m drawn to him in ways I can’t explain, tempted by the idea of breaking through his steely exterior. His pewter gaze and silent intensity fuel a desire I’ll never confess. It’s not simply curiosity. It’s a reckless longing, a secret thrill that dances on the edge of danger.

He's not like the men my father usually hires—those men are polished with slicked-back hair and designer suits. No, Jack is something else altogether. He looks exactly what he is—a true alpha in any environment. This is a man built for danger and protection. He’s the epitome of rugged masculinity dressed in black pants and a long-sleeved shirt, his muscular physique exuding strength and power.

I clench my hands into fists as I resist the urge to run my fingers through his slightly tousled dark hair and the full, well-groomed beard that hints at something untamed beneath his stoic exterior.

I remember the first time I saw him. I was walking through the house, restless and searching for a distraction. He was speaking with one of the other guards in the front hall. Tall and broad-shouldered, Jack exuded a quiet strength that immediately caught my attention.

He didn’t notice me standing at the edge of the staircase, frozen in place as I watched him. The way he carried himself—calm, confident, utterly in control—was magnetic. He moved like he was made for this world, his every step purposeful. I should have turned away, but I couldn’t. For the first time, I felt a pull toward someone who seemed entirely unreachable.

Then his gaze flicked up, catching mine. Pinning me. Delving into the deepest recesses of me as though he could see every thought I was trying to hide.

It was only a brief moment, but it was enough. His eyes, a steely gray that seemed to pierce through me, lingered a second too long before he turned back to his conversation.

That seemingly innocent non-verbal exchange left me shaken. Left me wanting things I shouldn’t. With him.

Jack isn’t just another bodyguard. He’s different. And now he’s assigned to me.

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