The Bodyguard

3.

Leslie White loved to see men beg.

Which is why when she found herself freshening up in one of the bathrooms of the gala, her interest was automatically piqued.

Leslie was a gorgeous woman, she took after her mom, minus the blond hair. Regardless, her beauty was the type that brought men and women alike to their knees without much effort. Growing up, her vanity seemed to sky-rocket. She wasn't as harsh or cruel as Jasper when it came to men, but she did bask in the inferiority she made them feel.

She knew, as any beautiful woman did, that men were intimidated by not only her looks, but her character too. Her name.

Strong women made strong women, and having Karla as her mother, meant she knew just about every trick in the book when it came to manipulating men.

Men were not as complex creatures as they'd like to believe. They were actually rather quite simple to understand, and Leslie had no trouble in doing so.

"Wait, please," the man pleaded with her. She was slightly taller than him, thanks to her heels. He was pathetic, she thought. "I was just doing my job."

Leslie knew from the second she walked in the bathroom something felt off. She checked every stall quietly, heels tapping against the white marble floors of the bathroom. In the last one, she found him. A photographer, not so subtly taking pictures of her.

"Who sent you?" She asked calmly, after dragging him out. She had him cornered against the wall now.

"I-I can't say," his eyes flickered down to her exposed cleavage.

So fucking typical, she thought.

"Tell me," her fingers found the edge of his shirt collar, dragging her nails across his pulse. She zeroed in on his lips, then flickered her eyes to his, before saying inches away from his mouth,

"And I might just go easy on you."

"I-It was Bryce! I-I mean, Mr. Levingston," the man sputtered weakly, completely and utterly enamored with the woman who stood before him. "H-He wanted pictures of the event, o-of your family, to see if he could catch any dirt on you."

Just like that, Leslie's suspicions were confirmed. Bryce had sent one of his goons to spy on her family? He must've reached a new level of desperation if he was relying on this incompetent photographer to do his dirty work.

Leslie scoffed, pushing the man away from her. She looked him up and down, he was shaking with nervousness. She rubbed her lips together with a smack and smiled viciously.

"Please, ma'am, I know what your Mother is like," he managed to state nervously after moments of Leslie's intense stare. "Please, don't let Bryce know you caught me. I could lose this job."

Leslie's eyes flickered across the bathroom. It was still empty, all of the other guests at the gala must have still been at their seats. That meant no one would be here to witness what she was about to do next.

"Please-" the man started again, only to be cut off by Leslie's intense gaze.

She eyes were calculating, before a smirk took over her beautiful features.

"I might consider it," she answered. "If you beg."

"W-what do you mea-"

"I mean," Leslie made him walk backward the closer she got. His back hit the marble wall with a soft thud. "I want you to get on your knees, and beg me."

The man looked at her with disbelief, shock. Leslie knew he was probably contemplating all the ways this would damage his already frail ego. She didn't care. When the man dropped to his knees, Leslie smiled triumphantly.