Bodyguard → RK900 x Reader

A New Bodyguard

The crisp, warm weather of Detroit in June never felt so great. The sun was just beginning to set, illuminating the clouds in strokes of pink and orange that painted the sky in a warm and playful gradient.

It's 7pm, and I'm currently at one of my favorite nightclubs, already half-drunk and dancing with my friends. The music is loud enough to damage my ear drums- just the way I like it, and there's a bunch of people who are just now arriving. The party's just getting started!

"Hey, Y/N let's go do more shots at the bar." My best friend, Alana says.

"Good idea." I respond, as she walks over to my and links my arm with hers.

We make our way over to the bar, quickly pushing past all the other people until we finally arrive at the counter. Alana talks to the bartender and orders us a round of drinks, as I lean against the counter and look around. My gaze falls on a rather decent looking guy beside me who had been eyeing me. I meet his eyes and smile as his lips curl into a smirk:

"What's your name?" He asks, as he scoots over closer to me.

I laugh lightly, flicking my hair back flirtatiously as I am about to answer him- when there is suddenly a loud sound that makes me jump and avert my attention to the noise. The front doors had been busted open and about a dozen men, all dressed in black suits with dark shades, come walking in as the DJ turns the music down. I roll my eyes and I push myself off of the bar counter as I try to speed walk away in an attempt to disappear into the growing crowd- but I am stopped when a hand grips my arm.

I turn around and see that it's one of the men who had just busted the door and crashed the party.

"Ugh, seriously?" I glare at him.

"I'm sorry, Ms Kamski. Your father sent us to collect you."

"Tell him to fuck off!" I say, as I try to wiggle my arm out from the man's grip.

"Sorry, but we can't do that. Let's avoid making a scene." He said, as a bunch of the other men walked over and gathered around me.

I sigh and manage to wiggle my arm off his grip:

"I can walk myself out." I say bitterly.

I don't even get to say goodbye to any of my friends as the men my father sent escort me out of the club and hold the door of a dark car open for me to get inside. I sit down and cross my arms as I stare out the window and bite back my tongue. It took everything in me not to cuss out the driver. I was severely pissed off.

When we arrive at my father's penthouse, I am escorted inside past his usual guards and security androids. I was really angry that my fun night had been cut short, but I would be lying if I didn't admit a part of me was curious as to what the hell he wanted from me on a damn Saturday night.

Besides, it's not like he was much of a father to me anyway. The sad truth was that my dad was always to busy and too famous to be an actual father in my life. My childhood was spent with only a few friends and android-nanny's to keep me company. It didn't help that I was the product of a one-night-stand, or that my mother had died during childbirth. I guess you could say it really set the tone for how much I don't give a fuck.

I am led through two, red double-doors into my father's study. His study was so weird, the way he had the architect design it. It was all white, with red accents and it was always freezing cold. I also hated that he had a bunch of those creepy android Chloe models that he fetishized and spent his whole day with. I mentally groan as I step inside.

"Ah..." He says, as he stands up from his desk and walks around it when he sees me, "Finally. I was waiting for you, Y/N. It's been so long." He extends his arms out for a hug.