Bodyguard My Heart (The Bodyguard #2)

Chapter 1

1

S ix Years Later

Samara

“Well, since we dropping secrets, I’ve been secretly dating Demetrius. Tell him I said hi.” I stood from the loveseat and exited my brother’s office before he could say anything further. My heart was pounding in my damn chest.

“I can’t believe you just did that, Samara!” I scolded myself as I headed down the hallway and into the reception area. I was lucky Royale had too much going on to follow behind me. If he hadn’t, he would surely be on my heels, demanding I explain the bomb I’d just dropped in his lap.

“Rebecca, I’m taking my lunch break early.” I notified the medical assistant at the front desk on my way out the door.

“Okay, how long should I say in case Royale asks?” Rebecca and I had become close since working together at Royale’s plastic surgery clinic. My girl was already used to my shenanigans. She knew I took full advantage of working for my brother, and so did she.

“Just an hour today!” I yelled back, making my way to my car. I wasn’t going to be gone long today since we were busy. I just needed to take a minute to clear my head. This day had already been way too much for me to handle.

First, it was everything this day represented. Add to it the rude visitors that decided to show up today and finding out that Royale had married some strange woman, and I was overwhelmed. My brain needed to reset. As a nurse, I would not be good to anyone if I wasn’t mentally okay.

I walked briskly through the parking lot. The closer I got to my car, the more irritated I became. Seeing two dozen long-stem pink roses sitting on my windshield caused me to roll my eyes. Quickly, I snatched up the bouquet and climbed into the driver-side of my vehicle.

I didn’t need to look at the card. I already knew who they were from. Tossing them aside, I started my car and peeled out of the parking lot toward my favorite sushi lunch spot. I wasn’t halfway down the street before my phone rang through my car speakers. Checking the caller ID was pointless. After what I’d just done, I was expecting Demetrius to call. Still, I glanced down at the caller ID, turning my nose up at the private call.

Knowing it was my father, I swiped decline. There was nothing we needed to discuss. I’d long ago stopped speaking to my father. He wanted to have more of a relationship now that he was behind bars than he ever did when he was a free man, and I just wasn’t interested. He was too late. No sooner than I rejected the call, my phone rang again. This time, I was right about the caller. I wanted to decline his ass, too, but that would warrant a pop-up visit, and I didn’t want to see him today.

“Yes, Demetrius,” I answered, as if I hadn’t just blown up both our spots.

“You real funny, Samara. Why you just tell Ro we fucking?” His husky voice sailed through the car. My body instantly reacted to him. He was heated for apparent reasons, but I didn’t care. This thing between us had gone on secretly for far too long and had slowly spiraled out of control.

“Are we not fucking, Demetrius?”

“Samara, stop fucking playing with me,” he demanded.

“For your information, I never told him we were fucking. I said we were dating.”

“We dating, Samara?” I could hear the smirk on his face through his voice. I’d fallen right into that one. “You gon’ finally let a nigga take you out on a date?”

“Well, no… no… but—”

“If you were gon’ tell him something, why not tell the truth?” He interrupted me, rendering me speechless. “All you did was create another lie.”

Sighing, I pulled my car into an empty parking space at the sushi spot. Telling my brother the truth had been on the tip of my tongue, but I freaked out at the last minute, and a partial truth escaped my mouth instead.

“I don’t know,” I managed to say.

“You don’t know?” he mimicked. Not too many things stressed Demetrius out the way I did. He had been on my bumper every day about telling Royale the truth. The truth, however, was complicated, and I wasn’t ready for the backlash it might cause. Well, some days I was, and some days I wasn’t.

“I don’t know. It felt like the right thing to say. Ro was talking about his marriage and… I don’t know. Was he mad?” I’d left before I could get a reaction.

“He asked questions I ain’t know how to answer, Samara. The shit caught me off guard. He got too much going on right now to process our shit. I’m sure he’ll be bringing it up again.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth.”

“The truth!” I gasped.

“Yeah, I’m trying to pursue you, and you are playing games, baby girl.”

My mouth fell open at his statement. Of everything I expected him to say to Ro, telling him he was trying to pursue me wasn’t on the list.

“Another partial truth, huh?” I shrugged as if he could see me.

“I guess so. I’m just playing yo’ game, baby girl,” he replied, making me blush and fume at the same time. Wasn’t nobody playing games with Demetrius. He was the one playing games with me.

“You the one playing the games, Demetrius!” I hoped he could hear the anger in my voice. “I’m about to go order my lunch. I’ll call—”

“Somebody should bring your order out in a few minutes.” He interrupted me. Taking my hand off my car door, I sat back in my seat. Why did he always have to do that? Demetrius knew where I was before I knew where I was going.

“I wish you wouldn’t clock my every move.”

“You’re the wife of a very dangerous man. You’re always going to be tracked.”

I looked around, spotting the old-school Tahoe on the corner. The windows were tinted, but I knew it was full of masked-up shooters and people waiting to swarm if anyone tried anything. It was the thing I hated about being married and attached to Demetrius, no matter how he tried to hide the security or dress it up. My life was in danger twenty-four-seven, and that was a lifestyle I didn’t want to live forever.

“Did you get the flowers?” he asked. My eyes looked at the pile of roses sitting on the passenger seat. A happy anniversary ribbon dangled from the stems.

“I got them,” I sang sarcastically.

“Happy anniversary, baby girl,” Demetrius stated. Nothing was happy about being forced to stay married to someone you wanted nothing to do with.

“I take it you haven’t signed the divorce papers yet,” I responded.

Year five had come and gone, and we were still married. Demetrius refused to grant me a divorce. He had this crazy idea of staying married and starting a real relationship. I guess somewhere down the line, he’d caught feelings. It could have had something to do with the countless slip-ups we’d had over the years, but I thought we both understood that was just sex.

“Let this be the last time I tell your hardheaded ass. Ain’t no divorce. I don’t care how many papers you leave in my mailbox.”

“Demetrius, we can’t stay married forever. That was not the agreement.” I reminded him.

“The agreement was dead the moment you hopped your lil ass on this dick. You are my wife, and the quicker you accept it, the sooner we can bring this shit to Ro and stop hiding.”

“The only thing that needs to stop is your delusional behavior, Demetrius.”

“The only person acting delusional is you, wife. Now I have to handle some shit with Ro tonight and tomorrow, but we can celebrate when I get back. Enjoy your lunch.” He hung up before I could get another word in.

“Ugh!” I let out a frustrated grunt. Did I have feelings for Demetrius? Yes, but we couldn’t happen the way he wanted for so many reasons. Demetrius represented everything my brother had warned me to stay away from. I’d spent most of my life fighting to be free of my father and his precious cartel, but somehow, I’d been tied to the one man who controlled it all.

“Ugh!” I let out another frustrated grunt as a loud knocking on my car window startled me.

“Miss, your food!” the restaurant worker shouted, holding up a white, plastic bag.

Quickly, I rolled down my window and took the takeout bag from the worker.

“Thank you,” I replied as I checked out the contents. Everything was there, just the way I liked it. A smile appeared as I watched the worker return to the restaurant. I wanted to call Demetrius back and thank him, but that would only lead to him thinking we were more than what we were. This day was dragging. I would take the rest of the day off if we weren’t swamped. Placing my takeout bag on the passenger seat next to the roses, I reversed and headed back to work. Happy sixth wedding anniversary, Samara! I thought to myself.

“You look thicker than a motherfucker in these pajamas, ma.”

I stared at Ashton and giggled as he poured me a glass of Moscato. My legs crossed to allow the fitted romper pajamas I had on to expose my thick thighs.

“I know, right?” I blushed as he snuggled in next to me on the sofa. “You look good yourself.” I complimented him, admiring Ashton’s slim-built frame. He was my newest boyfriend. Well, he wasn’t my boyfriend. He was more like a guy I was dating and doing nasty shit with. He was tall, tattooed, and from what I’d seen, had a big dick.

“You ain’t even got the dick yet, and them hips already spreading, goddamn.” He placed his lips on my cheek, giving me a soft peck that caused my body to tingle. I liked Ashton. He was nice. He always paid for all our dates and had his own place and car, which seemed rare in this new generation of men. He was a social media influencer, and he made decent money off that.

“This setup is so cute. After today, I needed just a nice romantic chill evening. So, thank you.” I waved my hand around, taking in the setup. Ashton had dinner delivered and transformed his living room into a romantic movie night equipped with a fort and candlelight. Originally, we had no plans for tonight, but after venting to him about my stressful day, he didn’t hesitate to invite me over.

I didn’t know if he knew it yet, but his little gesture was going to earn him some pussy tonight. I needed to release my mental frustrations, and Ashton seemed to be able to do the job. We’d been dating for about four months, and while he’d tasted my pussy, he’d never been in it.

“I appreciate that ’cause a nigga was working hard for your ass,” he said playfully. “You sounded like you needed a pick me up.”

“I did.” I pointed the remote control at the TV and pretended to be interested in watching a movie, but in my mind, I was already lying flat on my back. “What movie are you trying to watch?”

“Whatever you put on, ma.” He threw his arm around my shoulder, and my eyes traveled to the bulge in his basketball shorts. I was long overdue for some dick. The drama with Demetrius had virtually killed my dating life. Any man I got involved with, he threatened their life until they left me alone. Somehow, I’d dated Ashton without him meddling. It may have had something to do with Ashton living in my apartment complex. Before today, I thought maybe Demetrius had been coming to terms with the reality that there was no us and let me be. Now, I wasn’t so sure. If Demetrius was going to ruin this thing with Ashton soon, I was going to get some dick at least before it happened.

Smirking, I lifted from the couch just enough to throw my leg over his lap and mount him.

“I’m trying to watch your dick disappear in my guts.” I leaned forward, placing kisses on his neck.

“Damn, ma, that’s what time we on? You gon’ finally give a nigga some pussy?” He wrapped his arms around me and gripped my ass.

“Yes, it’s your lucky—”

A loud boom from Ashton’s front door opening cut me off.

“What the fuck?” I turned toward the sound, and instantly, my head pounded. Demetrius had just kicked this man’s door in.

“Damn, baby girl. You up in this bitch entertaining a nigga on our anniversary!” His voice thundered as he walked into Ashton’s apartment, a blunt perched on his thick lips. “You fucking other niggas now?”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I just stared at him in disbelief. He was supposed to be out of town with my brother. I crawled off Ashton’s lap as Demetrius ducked down and waltzed his big, six-eight fine ass into this man’s apartment as if he was invited.

“Demetrius, get out!” I waved my hand toward the exit.

“You married, ma? This yo’ husband?” Ashton questioned. He looked confused and hurt at the same time.

“No, it’s not like that… it’s—”

“It’s just like that, nigga.” Demetrius interrupted my attempts to explain. My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn’t find the words. I didn’t know if I should try to salvage things with Ashton, go the fuck off on Demetrius, or try to de-escalate the situation altogether. Demetrius moved through the apartment, taking in the décor. His calm demeanor scared me. Demetrius was always on the go, so when he was calm, it usually meant someone was about to take a one-way ticket to hell. My eyes found Ashton. He wasn’t a street nigga. He probably didn’t even realize his life was in danger.

“You fucking my wife?” Demetrius sat down on the sofa.

“Don’t answer that, Ashton.” I held up my hand.

“Stay out of this, Samara.” He reached into his pants and pulled out a gun. Ashton’s eyes bulged as Demetrius laid his gun on the coffee table in front of us. “You thought you were going to get some pussy tonight, huh?”

“Demetrius, you made your point. Let’s go.” I stood from the couch, grabbing his hand and attempting to pull his big ass up. If I didn’t get him out of there fast, this was bound to end badly, and I didn’t want to have Ashton’s blood on my hands.

“Naw, this setup is nice. Real romantic. Sit down, baby girl.” Demetrius ignored me while aggressively pulling me down into his lap.

“Look, man, I ain’t know she was married. She ain’t tell me shit like that. Y’all can both get out for real.” Ashton put his hands up in the air and surrendered.

“Naw, I like this spot. Nigga, you get out,” Demetrius barked.

“Demetrius!” I called once again, attempting to pull him up from the couch. The disconnected gaze in his eyes told me he was about to trip.

“Nigga, this my crib—” Ashton didn’t get to finish his statement before Demetrius had his face slamming into the table.

“Meechie!” I screamed as Ashton yelped in pain.

“In the flesh.” He looked at me and then back at Ashton. “I ain’t trying to hurt you, lil nigga. I peeped yo’ page. I like that lil dancing shit you be doing. I need to holla at my wife, though. It’s our anniversary, and I’m just trying to spend some one-on-one time with her.”

I stared at Demetrius. My mouth was practically on the damn floor. This man was out of his mind.

“Here, take this for your trouble.” Demetrius pulled out two hundred-dollar bills and shoved them at Ashton. Embarrassment settled in as Ashton stared at me.

“Sorry,” I whispered. There was nothing left to say that wouldn’t have him on the news as an unidentified person. Ashton hopped up without another word and walked out of the house.

“Don’t come back until morning, nigga!” Demetrius shouted behind him.

“Was all that necessary? I liked him!” I shouted as soon as the dangling door shut.

“Yeah, and he likes a thousand other bitches. Have you seen that nigga comment section?”

There was nothing left for me to say. The sight of his smug ass sitting here like this was normal was pissing me off. Had I known six years ago this was where our arrangement would end up, I would have never brought him the idea. Standing, I looked around for my purse and keys.

“Where you going, Samara? Sit down!”

“Away from you,” I replied. “You can’t keep doing this, Demetrius! This shit is not normal!” I was pissed, and it went beyond this thing with Ashton.

“Stop making me do it, Samara. You’re my wife. Start fucking acting like it.” The seriousness in his voice made me stop moving and stare at him.

“Your fake wife, Demetrius. This was never supposed to be real. I hate we crossed that line and made it physical, but this can’t happen.” I pleaded with him to let me go. Demetrius stood from the couch and approached me, his size making me back up against the wall.

“You’re right. We were never supposed to be real. But you can’t tell me this doesn’t feel real, baby girl.” His hand ran up my thigh as his hard body pressed against mine.

“Move, Demetrius.” I placed my hand on his chest and attempted to put some space between us, but it was useless. Demetrius was over two hundred and eighty pounds. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Tell me you don’t feel it in your heart every time I make this pussy squirt.”

I was speechless as my juices leaked onto the seat of my pajamas. I hated the way my body had betrayed me for him. Demetrius’s scent sailed through my nose, lighting all my suppressed emotions. My eyes took him in. His tall, stocky build towered over me like a giant, chocolate teddy bear. The designer T-shirt he wore hugged his wide shoulders and muscled arms just right. It reminded me of all the times he’d held me in place while he feasted between my thighs.

“Demetrius,” I whimpered, trying to slide out of his grasp, but his big arms prevented it. This was the problem, the reason the lines of our agreement had blurred. I had no restraint around him. I was putty in his hands, and he knew it. I shook my head in protest of what he was doing to me as one of his hands made its way inside my romper. The other one pulled at the buttons that went down my chest until they popped and my breasts were exposed.

“No panties or bra. You were trying to end that nigga life.” His fingers parted my soaking wet lips and strummed my clit.

“Ooh… shit!” I was trying to control my breathing and think of a million ways to get out of this. The more he stroked me with his fingers, the less I cared, and soon, my body was overtaking my mind. I’d missed his touch, and when I was truly being honest with myself, I had been craving it. Demetrius slipped his fingers inside me, massaging my insides.

“I love you, Samara. Tell me you don’t love me. Tell me you don’t feel anything.”

He littered kisses down my neck. My heart sped up. Demetrius had never uttered those words before. My heart stopped. He loves me. I didn’t know how to respond to that. I loved Demetrius with everything in me, but I couldn’t admit that to him. Loving him would mean I had to accept his lifestyle… Be okay with security watching my every move twenty-four hours a day.

Loving Demetrius meant being okay with snipers on rooftops. I would have to be okay with his late hours and early mornings. Be okay with possibly losing him to the streets or jail. Admitting my love for him meant bandaging wounds, hiding guns, burning clothes, and possibly raising kids that would repeat the cycle.

As bad as I wanted to, I couldn’t utter those words. I didn’t want to live my life being married to a Capo. I’d suffered enough being raised by one.

“I… I… ooh.” He was tapping my G-spot so effortlessly. I could feel my pussy walls tighten around his digits.

“Tell me you love me, Samara.” He quickened his pace as he sucked one of my titties into his mouth.

“There you go, come undone for me.”

“Oh my… fuck!”

“Tell me you don’t feel that shit right here.” He tapped his hand against my chest.

“I’m right there. I’m cumming!” I screamed as I released my juices all over his hand.

“Tell me you don’t love me, Samara, and I’ll let you go.” His body stayed pressed into mine. It was calling me. I should have thrown caution to the wind and told him the truth. Instead, I exhaled a deep breath and lied.

“I don’t love you, Demetrius. I probably never will.”

Demetrius pulled his fingers out of me and slowly backed away. I couldn’t read him. His handsome face was void of emotions.

“The divorce papers will be to you when I return from handling business with Ro. I wish you the best.” He made his way to the front door.

I should have stopped him. I wanted to stop him, but a voice deep inside me said this was for the best.

“Samara!” He took one last look at me. “Divorce or not, if I catch you entertaining that dancing ass nigga, I’m gon’ put two to his head. Something not right about that nigga.” He chucked the deuces before leaving Ashton’s apartment. Tears instantly cascaded down my face as I plopped down on the floor. If I’d made the right choice, why did I feel so horrible?

.