Page 1 of King
1
Marilyn
Steph knockson my office door and lets herself in.
Immediately, I’m suspicious. She never knocks. She’s been my best friend since we were knee-high. Now she’s my executive assistant and chief advisor.
Usually, Steph storms into my office without a second thought as to whether I’m busy.
She’s a force of nature who’s always got my back and I love her. But right now, she’s acting weird. My Spidey-senses are tingling.
“He’s here,” she says.
I look up from the email I’ve just been writing. I take my glasses off and place them on the desk in front of me.
“Who’s here?” I ask.
“You know,” she squirms. “The guy we were talking about last night.”
Suddenly it clicks. Now I know exactly why she’s acting so strange.
“I thought we discussed it, and I said no?” I say. “I thought I told you that the whole thing is ridiculous and that there’s no way in hell I’m going to let some creepy perv ruin my life.”
“You did say that,” Steph says, “but I took the liberty of ignoring you. It’s for the best.”
I stand up and slam my hand down on the desk. “God damn, Steph! For the best, my ass! I don’t want a bodyguard. I’ve got a can of pepper spray in my handbag. I’ve taken self-defense classes. I can take care of myself. I don’t need some big neanderthal following me around eating burgers and farting and opening doors for me. Now go out there and tell whoever the heck it is you’ve hired that his services are not needed.”
“No.” Steph leans forward on my desk. Her mouth is a thin pink line cut across her usually pleasant face. She’s got that look in her eyes that used to make all the girls on the opposing netball teams take a step back and fear for their lives. “This is serious, Marilyn. This isn’t some weird, creepy guy trying to pick you up in the bar at a hotel or a nightclub. This is a guy who’s been following you around taking photos of you. For months. He’s been posting stuff online. Horrible, graphic, disturbing things. Fantasizing about how he wants to tie you up in his basement and keep you there like some weird sex slave. And it’s my job to have your back. I don’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to you. You’re my best friend. So, please, for me, will you just shut the hell up for once and take my advice and let this neanderthal keep you safe.”
“She’s right, you know.” I look up to see a man standing in my office. He’s not so much a neanderthal, as a greek god. He’s even bigger than I expected. A tower of muscle and power and pure, one hundred percent masculine energy. There’s a gun on his hip. Dark and black, the same color as his eyes. “This guy is no joke. He’s got a record a mile long,” he continues. “Rape, aggravated assault, attempted rape, possession of an illegal firearm, stalking, arson, possession of child pornography. The list goes on.”
“Then why isn’t he in prison?” I say.
“He was. But now he’s out, and he’s found his next victim.”
I stand up and turn around, looking out of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that surround my impressive corner office.
We’re on the thirty-second floor. There are hundreds of people scurrying around on the sidewalks and in the parks below me. They look like ants. Laughing and smiling and heading off to meet friends, or go to work, or go home because they work nights, and even though the sun’s only just risen, it's time for them to have dinner and get a good sleep before they have to do it all over again.
I bet none of them have criminally insane stalkers messing up their day.
“I’m not a victim,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray how scared I feel. “I’m a Forbes businesswoman of the year runner up.”
“That may be true,” the man says, his voice a little gentler now, “but the world is full of creeps and sickos and scumbags, and this one’s got his targets set on you. It’s not fair. But it’s the truth. And yeah, you might have a can of pepper spray and a few hours of self-defense under your belt, but you can’t be ready one hundred percent of the time. You can’t watch your back. You can’t fight a bullet with a karate chop. That’s why you hire a neanderthal like me. To do the things that you don’t want to do, the things you’re not trained to do. To keep you safe. To make sure this asshole doesn’t ruin your life and the lives of all of those who love you.”
I turn back around with my arms folded across my chest. I still don’t like the idea of having a bodyguard. Who am I? The president? It feels so dramatic.
“You’re not a neanderthal,” I say.
A big smile spreads across his rugged, handsome face. “Don’t be so sure,” he says. “I can get pretty savage.”
I close my legs tight as a surge of desire shoots through me. A warm glow radiates in my lower tummy.
“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for you to stick around a while,” I say, “at least until this whole thing blows over.”
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King
