The billionaire's bodyguard (MxM)

part: 8

                  POV: Davis

"Ethan, we need to talk about this," I insisted, my voice firm as I glanced up from the stack of paperwork on my desk. Ethan, sprawled in the chair opposite me, flashed a charming smile, clearly unfazed by my serious demeanor.

"What's on your mind, Davis?" he asked casually, his tone light and carefree. But I could see the tension lurking beneath the surface, a sense of unease that belied his easygoing facade.

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts before plunging into the heart of the matter. "It's about the event tonight," I began, my words measured and precise. "I think it's a bad idea for you to attend."

Ethan had told me this morning that we were going for an event that he got invited to.

Ethan raised an eyebrow in surprise, his expression shifting from amusement to mild curiosity. "And why is that?" he inquired, his tone tinged with genuine interest.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to broach the subject delicately. "You know how these things usually go," I said carefully, choosing my words with caution. "The crowds, the noise, the...temptations."

Ethan chuckled softly, the sound tinged with wistful nostalgia. "Ah, yes, the temptations," he murmured, his gaze drifting to the window where the city skyline loomed in the distance. "But don't worry, Davis. I promise to be on my best behavior."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his flippant response, the frustration bubbling up inside me. "That's not what I'm worried about, Ethan," I said, my voice tinged with exasperation. "It's phycho . We don't know how what she can when you're around In an open place."

At the mention of her name, Ethan's expression hardened, a hint of remorse flickering in his eyes.

"I know," Ethan admitted reluctantly, his voice tinged with regret. "But I can't avoid her forever, Davis.  whether I like it or not."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "I'm not asking you to avoid her, Ethan," I said wearily. "I just think it would be wise to steer clear of any potential...complications, given the circumstances."

Ethan nodded in understanding, a solemn expression settling over his features. "You're right, Davis," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. "I'll be careful, I promise. For both our sakes."

And with that, the matter was settled, our conversation coming to an end as we returned to the tasks at hand. But even as I buried myself in my work, I couldn't shake the sense of unease that lingered in the back of my mind, a foreboding feeling that whispered of trouble on the horizon.

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As I stood beside Ethan at the lavish gala, the room buzzing with excitement and chatter, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. It was my job to ensure his safety, to anticipate any potential threats and keep him out of harm's way. But tonight, as I watched him mingle with the guests, a different kind of worry gnawed at the edges of my mind.

Ethan, ever the social butterfly, seemed to be in his element, charming everyone he met with his easy smile and effortless charisma. But beneath the surface, I could sense a hint of exhaustion, a weariness that spoke volumes about the toll his lifestyle was taking on him.

As the evening wore on, I kept a close eye on Ethan, discreetly monitoring his movements and ensuring that he was safe at all times. But despite my best efforts, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

And then, just as the night was reaching its peak, it happened – Ethan suddenly staggered, his face his face paling as he clutched his stomach in pain. Without a moment's hesitation, I sprang into action, moving swiftly to support him as he stumbled.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice laced with concern as I carried him off the ground taking him in my arms towards the nearest exit. Ethan nodded weakly, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

"I think...I think it's food poisoning," he managed to choke out, his face contorted in agony. "I need to...I need to get to a hospital."

Without hesitation I rushed my way outside, I could feel the weight of Ethan's body leaning heavily on mine, his strength waning with each passing moment.

By the time we reached the car, Ethan was barely conscious, his breathing labored and shallow. With practiced ease, I helped him into the backseat, settling him as comfortably as possible before climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off towards the nearest hospital.

The journey seemed to stretch on for an eternity, every minute feeling like an eternity as I prayed for Ethan's well-being. And when we finally arrived at the hospital, I wasted no time in rushing him inside, alerting the staff to his condition and demanding immediate attention.

As Ethan was whisked away for treatment, I found myself pacing the sterile corridors, my mind awash with worry. It wasn't just my job to protect him – it was my duty, my responsibility to ensure that he was safe and cared for, no matter the cost.

And as I waited anxiously for news of his condition, I couldn't help but realize just how much Ethan meant to me – not just as a client, but as a friend, a confidant, and perhaps, if fate allowed, something more.