Bodyguard x T

I.

My father was in the mafia. There, I said it. I felt like it was such an unspoken question that I never actually gave an answer.

It wasn't a secret, but it also wasn't public knowledge either. However, recently he's been making enemies in high places and it's caused a bit of unwelcome danger. Not that any kind of danger is welcome, but you get my point. It went a little something like this.

I was walking out of school one Friday afternoon and saw the usual all black Sedan parked out front, awaiting my arrival. It was my father's driver and he always came at 3:30 p.m. sharp to pick me up from school and take me home. There was nothing I could remember now that stuck out as unusual about this car, when I had looked at it at the time, I really did think it belonged to my father. I was wrong.

As soon as I walked up and stood next to the door, I noticed something was off. Phillipe normally would have been already out of the car and the door would have been open waiting for me to climb in. I stood at the window and stared blankly, unsure if I should be scared or not. I couldn't see anything inside the car and my unease grew.

I backed up a step, then another, never taking my eyes off of the window. My shallow brain had convinced me I could escape whatever fate was waiting for me inside. Alas, I was again dead wrong. Suddenly, the door was open and arms were reaching for me before I could blink. I was thrown inside the car, a blindfold quickly put over my eyes.

To make a long story short, I was kidnapped and held at ransom by another mob family who had been testing my father's power. I spent the weekend being held hostage and finally by early Sunday morning I was back in the comfort of my bedroom, shaking like a leaf from trauma. This too would pass however, as sad to say, this was not an unlikely occurrence to be kidnapped. And my father who is sick in the head, was almost gleeful to receive the letter of ransom. It meant he held something others did not. That power or control that meant he was high enough on the totem pole to even be considered a threat. Or at least, that's the way he saw it.

So when I arrived home Sunday morning, unharmed by his "Death Squad" (that's what I called them), he patted me on the head and said, "Welcome back." That was all I got.

The next week passed by in a blur, between school and looking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't being followed, I was exhausted. The next Friday after the "Incident" I received a knock on my door. My father swung it open without waiting for a response and stepped inside. He was a big man, fat and round, filling up the entire doorway. His height was average which just made him look plump and really I wasn't sure how anyone could take him seriously with the most ridiculous outfits he wears.

"I come bearing gifts." He bellows out to me in my small room, as if I should immediately thank him for something I haven't received yet. And that's when I saw him.

He stepped into the tiny room, somehow taking up more space than my father. However, this man was definitely not fat. I ogled him as his muscles tensed in his shirt as his eyes laid on me. Our gazes locked and my breath hitched. Holy mother of-

The man was lean and tall but muscular. He had dark scraggly hair and eyes that could pierce into your soul without breaking a sweat. He wore a black mask that took up most of his face, but somehow accentuated his features. The pandemic still raged on outside these walls so it was understandable that he wanted to protect himself.

"Y/N this is T. He will be your new bodyguard. He does not speak nor does he take off his mask so don't let your sneaky little fingers get close to him. He will protect you at all costs," my father's triumphant smile gave me chills and I decided to throw my sass out.

"I don't need a bodyguard, I can take care of myself."

"Is that what you called it last weekend?" My father laughed. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep for snapping at him, telling him it was his fault. Instead I continued.

"Besides this boy doesn't even look like he could handle himself, much less me." My eyes darted to his again and I could see them grow wide with anger. He may not have half his face shown, but he sure can express himself.

"Nonsense. I have chosen the best and I don't want to hear any objections, am I clear?" My father spoke with indignation and waited expectantly.

"Yes father," I said. My father turned to leave but the bodyguard stayed. He stood in the room and stared straight ahead like a statue, no longer bothering to look at me. I decided on that moment it would be fun to mess with him, maybe get back at my father.

I was sitting on my bed, so I stood up and walked over to him. I halted right in front of him and looked up, noticing his tall 6 foot to my meager 5'4 was a bit of a difference. He humored me and looked down into my eyes again. Something about those irises made me get lost in them.

"Who are you?" I asked quietly, almost too quiet. He bent down until we were eye level making me gulp, my heart rate picked up. I stared back silently and suddenly my hands were reaching up, traveling toward his mask. He smacked my hands away and growled. Something white-hot whipped through my body at that sound and I clenched my thighs together. I backed away slowly, making my way back to my bed and I watched as he took a step forward. He mimicked my steps until I realized I had backed into a wall.

He closed the distance between us and all the while maintained eye contact. I gasped as I felt his body press up against mine. My eyes rolled into the back of my head at the pleasure I felt just from him being near. He suddenly backed off and I heard what sounded like a chuckle. Embarrassment flamed my cheeks at how he teased me and I stomped over to my bathroom and slammed the door.

I looked at myself in the mirror and gripped the sink tightly.

"Game on bodyguard. You have no idea who you're dealing with."