Page 65 of Her Billionaire Bossholes

The audience leans in, their anticipation palpable as they eagerly await my response. The lights above dim even further, casting elongated shadows around us. It's almost as if the room itself is holding its breath.

"And is it true that you've hired a woman to do the job?" he presses, rubbing me in the wrong way with his tone of doubt and disbelief.

I fix him with an obviously unimpressed stare. "We hired a capable, experienced bodyguard. Gender has no role in it, Will."

A murmuring ripples through the audience as my words sink in. Their curiosity piqued, they exchange glances and whisper among themselves. Is it a man or a woman who stands by our side, ready to protect us at any cost?

"No," he responds, looking rather similar to smacked ass, "of course not."

Leo, always one to steer the conversation back on track, jumps in at this moment, a mischievous spark in his eyes. "Actually, Will," he interjects, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "our bodyguard happens to be the one who discovered those leaks."

The audience gasps in unison, their collective attention captured by Leo's revelation. The host leans forward, his curiosity piqued. "Is that so?" he asks, his voice laced with astonishment. "They must be truly committed," he remarks.

Jackson takes this opportunity to add to Leo's words. "We suspect that the mole responsible for the leaks may actually work for a competing company," he shares, his voice laced with a hint of disgust.

"That's quite an accusation," Will warns lightly, adding a chuckle to his words. "So, you've identified this mole working within your company... Do you have any leads on what this company might be?"

Jackson flips his charming personality on with a little switch. "Controversy might bring progress, but it always brings enemies. I think we all know we aren't running short of those."

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I turn back to face Will, challenging him with my gaze. "We may suspect a rival company of some kind," I continue, "who either planted the mole themselves or bought them out somehow."

"Naturally," Will comments.

I shrug. "It's all a clear attempt at corporate sabotage. They want to bring BioCore to its knees."

Leo chimes in confidently, his voice cutting through the laughter. "They'd have to try a lot harder than this to achieve that," he declares, his words laced with both bravado and determination. The audience applauds, their appreciation for Leo's resilience evident in their applause.

As the applause dies down, I take a moment to survey the room. The atmosphere is electric, charged with anticipation and intrigue.

I only hope that this charade is working.

55

CHARLIE

"Excuse me! Ex- Out of the way!" I give up on politeness and pleasantries altogether as I bolt towards the studio.

My heart is pounding furiously with a mix of determination and adrenaline. I can practically feel the rush coursing through my veins, propelling me forward with each pounding step. Time is ticking away, and I can't waste a precious moment if I want to get to them. My mind is in overdrive as I navigate the bustling streets, my senses on high alert. I instinctively choose the fastest route, weaving through the urban maze with the agility of a seasoned city dweller.

Thankfully, I had enough sense to slip miniature trackers into each of their wallets during my first week as their bodyguard. I know exactly where to go--I just can't seem to get there fast enough.

"Sorry!" I shout, not bothering to look back at the gut I'd just knocked over as they swear at me.

With every stride, my breath comes in rapid bursts, but I push through the burn. I feel like I'm running in a dream, where my legs just can't move fast enough and it feels like I'm running through sludge. No, not a dream. A nightmare.

The nightmare of losing them. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, amplifying my urgency. My ears ring with the sound of my own heartbeat as I race through the city, the symphony of honking cars and blaring sirens blending into a chaotic melody.

I whip my phone out and open the broadcast on the little screen, checking in on them. I breathe a sigh of relief when I take in their perfectly fine appearances, still sitting and laughing and joking around without a care in the world.

"Just wait until I get my hands on you," I threaten through the screen.

Oh, yeah, they're in for it.

As the host's voice continues to echo through the phone's speaker, I race forward dodging pedestrians and taxis alike.

"So, where is this mole, now?" he wonders.

My hand involuntarily tightens around the handle of my backpack, a physical manifestation of the tension that has gripped me.

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