Bodyguard

Julian Turner stared at his older brother in shock. “You’ll kick me out of my own company?” he asked the golden-haired, green-eyed man who towered over him by five inches. Anyone who’d lay eyes on Christian and Julian can immediately tell that the two weren’t related. And they wouldn’t be wrong in saying so, for they weren’t. Christian Turner was the legitimate son and heir to their late parents, Cecelia and Damien Turner, founders of Turner Security and James Bay Medical Center in Canada. While Christian had fair skin and a lean built, Julian had a slight olive complexion that hinted of an Italian ancestry, bulging muscles, and a body most women fall for. Where Christian had blond hair and emerald eyes, Julian had midnight black hair and electric blue eyes. There was one thing about the older brother, however, that stood out more than his intimidating height. It was the scar on one side of his face, which he had acquired during a battle in Afghanistan when he was still in the army. “Your reputation will be the end of you and this company,” his brother said instead. “I’m not going to let our parents’ hard work go to ruins because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.” Julian gritted his teeth. Yes, he knew he was a bit of a player, but it’s not like he forced anyone. Everyone he had slept with came to him at their own free will, and no one ever complained about it when it was time for him to leave. He wanted to say that to Christian, come up with some excuse that he was capable of becoming the CEO, just like his parents had wanted him to be. But he couldn’t, not when he hadn’t had a single case in the last two months. “Give me one last chance,” he said with his hands clenched at his sides. “I swear I’ll be worth it. I will prove that my skills are—and still—of value.” Christian sighed, rubbing at his temples. “I never doubted your skills as a bodyguard, Julian. You know this isn’t about that. But I’m willing to give you one last chance.” His emerald eyes met Julian’s electric blue ones, making sure that his little brother understood his point. “But this is it, Julian, no more second chances. You fail this one, and you lose the company.” Julian’s face was all hard lines, skin taut over his cheekbones, as he nodded in understanding. “I won’t disappoint you.” Christian hoped that for his own sake, Julian better not. *          *          * Julian looked at his watch for the nth time before turning his gaze towards the closed door. He’d been at Magenta Fashion for nearly three hours now, and he could feel all the sympathetic stares directed at him by the employees. Apparently, Sia Milton went into these sudden “creative sprees” and would lock herself up in her office for hours on end. No one had any idea when she was coming out, but Julian couldn’t just up and leave either. He needed this job desperately, and he’ll wait the entire day if he had to. Besides, he couldn’t imagine a fifty-something-year-old woman cooped up in her office all day; she’ll need to come out eventually. This client particularly liked to keep to herself as Julian had never seen Sia Milton even though she was close to being a celebrity with her popularity. She shies away from the media and even avoids coming to her own fashion shows. He had a vague idea that her secrecy was exactly the reason he had been called to her office. Now, he’ll need to find out the reason behind it, so he could protect her from future harm. Julian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. If he weren’t so desperate, he wouldn’t be here in the first place, waiting for a woman who ran a fashion house who had so much ego but no respect for a person’s time. And on top of that, it was Ms. Milton herself who had made the appointment. The promise he’d made to Christian ran through his mind as he sat outside Sia Milton’s office. It wasn’t his abilities that Julian doubted. No, far from it. He was the best in his field with a hundred percent job completion rate. It was his character, or rather the lack of it, he feared. He knew he had f****d up in the past, and he wasn’t going to blame it on anyone. He was who he was. He’d committed no crimes, but people have now become wary of him. He couldn’t help it, though. He’d definitely hit all the right genes in the looks department: tall, over 6’1”, and a muscular built. Strong and lethal, he drew attention from miles away. But it was a shame that he always found himself involved with either his client’s daughter or his wife. This was also why he hadn’t yet had the opportunity of guarding a woman until now. Businesswomen and female celebrities steered clear of him, and married men have stopped hiring him entirely. If this kept up, Turner Security would soon be slammed. But he was interested to know why Sia was hiring him despite his reputation. She was the head of Magenta Fashion, a medium-sized fashion house which had gained popularity over the last eight years for its quality for a decent price. Their products were known for their durable materials, as well as their casual, wearable designs which flatter not only those from the upper class—like most of the fashion houses liked to focus on—but also people from the middle-class society. Why someone was after her life rather than ruining the fashion house was mind-boggling. Such attempts often happen when one party starts to get more profit and recognition, and another (or several others) tries to bring it down. But they usually try to sabotage the company, not the owner, not to mention to attempt an a*******n of her thirteen-year-old son. He was cycling his way back from school on a rainy day, and the streets were pretty much deserted. That was all the detail he had been given upon arriving at Magenta this morning, and he had since then, read the file a hundred times over. Julian let his eyes wander the room. Purple couches lined the wall opposite to the boss’s room and a few potted flowering plants hung from the ceiling. A decent-sized bamboo plant was placed on either side of the entrance door to the office. The walls were painted in bright-colored patterns juxtaposed with the calm colors from a painting of a Victorian ballroom, drawing all the attention to it. A little further in the office, a sexy brunette secretary in a pink pencil skirt, white shirt, and pink killer high heels was giving him some serious come-hither looks. And as inviting as she may be, for once, Julian found himself more intrigued by the boss than her secretary. He was about to stand up to get a coffee from the canteen downstairs when the phone on the secretary’s desk began to ring. She picked it up hastily and started answering with quick “Yes, Ma’ams.” If Julian weren’t so stressed, he would have laughed at the startled expression on her face. He raised one dark eyebrow at the secretary once she had finished her phone call, who in turn blushed and pointed him to the door. “Go straight in,” she told him. It’s time, he thought to himself as he straightened his jacket and picked up the file in his hand. Then, he walked to the door and entered the room that would decide his future.