Page 3 of Her Billionaire Bossholes

As the secretary secures a keycard and ID for me, I contemplate what the three men are like that run such an impressive operation. It must take something special to build and successfully maintain an empire like this, to lead each component of its multiple layers with equal dedication– from security systems all the way up through medical research.

I'm sure they’re no ordinary business executives, but then again neither is BioCore Solutions itself – it's not just any old start-up here; their reach goes far beyond anything that has come before them in terms of technological advancement. They are business moguls on steroids.

Well, that's what the internet says.

3

LEO

I'm strolling through the halls of BioCore, chatting away on the phone. They're blabbering on and on about something urgent, but I cut them off as I turn the corner.

"I'll have to call you back," I explain abruptly, not bothering to wait for a response before ending the call and shoving my phone into my pocket.

I pick up the pace, knowing the importance of being punctual for this particular discussion. I finally reach the meeting room and casually push open the door. I scan the room, looking for Jackson and Caleb. And there they are, already seated, twiddling their thumbs--it seems I'm not the only one running behind.

Approaching the table, I give them a nod. "Gents. Is he here yet?"

Jackson nods, gesturing to his phone. "Debbie said they're on their way. Had to set up the security clearance."

Caleb grumbles, "They can do that when they aren't on our time."

I drag a chair out and sit down, adjusting the buttons of my shirt. None of us are particularly happy about the board's choice to hire a bodyguard to accompany us after the interview incident, but we really don't have much of a choice.

Jackson shakes his head in frustration. "It's just ridiculous. We're adults, we can take care of ourselves," he says drily.

I nod, feeling the pit of my stomach grow tight with frustration at the thought of someone following us around everywhere we go - like a shadow that won't leave you alone no matter how hard you try to shake it off. Sure enough, Caleb voices my sentiment perfectly.

"Yeah I don't understand why they think we need someone there all day watching our every move." He continues with an air of resignation in his voice as if this is something he has long accepted and doesn't bother arguing about anymore but still feels resentful towards nonetheless- "We don't need to be babysat."

We all agree on one thing: having a bodyguard is far from ideal for any situation. And yet, here we are once again, subject to someone else's whims. I doubt our critics will make a habit of jumping on the stage of a live-broadcast television show, but what the hell do I know?

My brow furrows as I lean back in my chair, shaking my head with a hint of resignation before finally chiming in, "Guess we'll just have ta suck it up."

The three of us continue to voice our frustrations. We know this guy will definitely just get in the way of our work, taking up all sorts of valuable time we could use for something more constructive and meaningful. Ultimately, none of us can deny that at the very least it offers a sense of security - however small - knowing someone else is looking out for us.

We're all sure that if push came to shove the mysterious new hire won't be able to rhyme off detailed facts about who we are as individuals or be able to properly read into any subtle cues within interactions; while still being some sort of 'line' between potential danger and ourselves.

"We're already wasting time sitting here for this meeting," Caleb announces, as if Jackson and I aren't aware of that fact. "Then we'll have to waste even more time getting this guy acquainted with our routines and BioCore's operations--I mean, is it even worth it?"

I can feel the tension in the room as we sit waiting.

Just as the conversation is beginning to lull, the door swings open and Debbie steps into the room. She's accompanied by a tall figure--nearly as tall as myself--who wears an expression that appears rather unimpressed. She can't be our bodyguard... can she?

The tension is now palpable within muted walls of this meeting room that no longer feel spacious or welcoming but rather cramped and oppressive with dread as we await whatever comes next.

"Good morning, gentlemen" Debbie greats with a forced and breathless smile. "I apologize for the delay. This is your new personal bodyguard."

We exchange glances of disbelief and Caleb sighs quietly in frustration as we all take stock of the situation. The woman looks like she means business - dressed head-to-toe in black tactical gear complete with utility belt and combat boots, carrying herself confidently, as if she's unaware that, despite her height, she looks like a petite, mulatto fairy.

I study her carefully - from her taut muscles to the way she holds herself, it's clear that this woman is capable of handling herself in a fight. I can see her hands are lined with callouses. Knowing that she must train often in hand-to-hand combat only fuels my interest. But it's not her combat skills that catch my attention; it's her face.

She wears no makeup, yet her full lips are perfectly formed and inviting. Her eyes are fierce, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. Her hair is slicked back into a tight bun, emphasizing the sharp planes of her face. When she finally meets my gaze, I can feel my breath hitch.

Damn, she's beautiful. Or she would be if not for the security get-up. The board can't seriously have hired a woman as our bodyguard.

4

JACKSON

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