"You're so annoying," you groaned as you let yourself fall onto the disgustingly expensive mattress of your California king bed. Ghost was the newest bodyguard your father had hired after he found out that the last one was protecting you a bit too well, mainly inside your bedroom.
Saying that you weren't a fan of Ghost would be an understatement. Usually, the bodyguards quickly succumbed to your charm and your looks, allowing you to come and go as you pleased. And in the best-case scenario, you let them take special care of you whenever the place and time would allow for it. Making sure that this was often the case.
"Shut up, kid," you heard Ghost hiss. And you could also hear the "annoying little shit" he added, even though he muttered it under his breath. His British accent was noticeable when he spoke, and you wondered how he had ended up in the United States, working as a bodyguard for, as Ghost would call it, spoiled rich brats.
His imposing figure looked even more intimidating as he loomed in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest, elbows touching the wooden frame. If he was just a tad more muscular, he would have trouble even fitting through doors, you thought to yourself.
"Stop calling me a kid. I'm 23. It makes this whole situation even more ridiculous." You retorted, rolling your eyes at him, before you went back to looking at the ceiling. Admittedly, you looked a bit like a pouting little princess with the way you were lying there, dressed for a night out at the club.
"I was supposed to go on a date. Come on, just let me leave for an hour," you whined, turning over to look at Ghost with those puppy eyes that always worked. Well, they worked on everyone but him, apparently.
"No," he said, standing his ground, his expression unreadable beneath that ever-present skull balaclava. You would have been lying if you said that you never wondered what he looked like underneath. He's probably ugly, the mean part of you answered inside your head. Ghost just looked at you while you rolled your eyes for the hundredth time that evening, silently wishing for them to get stuck to teach you a lesson.
"Fine. Can I go to sleep now?" You grumbled in defeat. It wasn't like the guy you were supposed to go on a date with was that interesting anyway. He was the type of man who ordered a salad for you at the restaurant while he got a steak and rolled off after three mediocre thrusts. Staying home might actually be the better option. Somehow, none of your dates were really interesting. They were all just little distractions, unable to satisfy your cravings for a man who could truly handle you, one who understood how to treat you in and out of the bedroom.
"You can do whatever the hell you want, as long as it doesn't involve you leaving this house," Ghost answered. "Sleep, paint your nails, go cry in the corner. I don't care." Ouch, someone was feeling mean tonight. And with that, he turned, closing your door behind him.
Your thoughts began to wander after he left. Usually, your pretty smile, your big eyes, and a few convincing words were more than enough to make the bodyguards fold, but Ghost was different. You were not used to not having your way, weren't used to someone being so stern with you, especially not a man.
Ghost was still standing outside your door, leaning against the wall. You had a habit of sneaking out of your window; he had learned that in the first week of working with you when he had to drag you back to the house in the middle of the night. With the way you managed to climb down from the first level of your house in a mini skirt and with bare feet without making a sound, you could start a career as a burglar.
You were a bratty rich kid, and you were a damn annoyance to Ghost. That much was true.
But deep down, underneath the layers of training, self-composure, and mutual hatred, Ghost had a bit of a soft spot for you. He noticed that you were suffering because of your father; he noticed that the fancy house that most people would be jealous of was nothing more than a prison for you.
After all, a golden cage is still a cage.
Your father wasn't a good man; that was clear from the briefing Price gave Ghost before he sent him off to apply for the position of your bodyguard.
