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r3ver1e
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Synopsis
Under his gaze, with a slow and deliberate motion, the brunette beside him grips the railing and carefully leans back. Aiden's first instinct was to step closer, but the girl's raspy voice stopped him. "You'd be surprised how often I do this, sir." Sensing she had startled him, and perhaps even disturbed him, she added the explanation she knew he needed: "Surely you've had moments in your life when you wished everything would just end," she said, closing her eyes and leaning back a little further. "When I do this, I realize that I don't want to die." The man rested his elbows on the railing and let out a long sigh. She was the first woman in his life he couldn't understand or see through. A unique and complex character, but damn beautiful. "Remind me once again, for the fourth time now, how you passed the psychological evaluation, Miss Joy?" The profound silence between them had become uncomfortable. Aiden felt he should rephrase the question, soften it somehow. For the first time since he'd met her, he felt he'd crossed a line. "Mr. Black," she finally said with a sigh, "when I do this, I realize that I want to live and be happy." Aiden turned his head slightly toward her. Something in his gaze had changed, and Tatum noticed. That's why she casually added: "As for the psychological exams," she chuckled, letting go of the railing, "be assured that I don't have that much cash lying around just to pass them all, only to protect your ass." The man's chuckle put her at ease. She didn't need anyone's pity.
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Chapter 1 - 1

"Remind me again, please, why did I hire you?" I huff, trying to calm myself.

"Mr. Black," the woman in front of me responds, turning in her chair until she's facing me, "you certainly didn't hire me to be a parrot. And admit it, once and for all—you know I make your life better!"

I roll my eyes and shake my head, trying to chase away all the thoughts aimed at her like sharp knives. Very sharp ones. She's a fully grown woman, slim, delicate, and very beautiful—I'm not even sure when or how she ended up being my bodyguard.

"How did you pass the psychological tests, Miss Joy?" I find myself asking. And I don't regret it; it's genuinely unclear to me.

To be a bodyguard, you need to be serious, agile, rigid, and prompt—she's none of those things. Or maybe I just haven't figured it out yet?

"I certainly didn't pay my way through," she laughs, grabbing a pen and twirling it between her fingers. "When are you going to pull that stick out of your ass?"

Her question catches me off guard, and I can't deny it relieves a bit of tension. Maybe I'm too harsh on her, but I have every right to be skeptical. She's been a mystery since I hired her. Now, you might wonder why I hired her if I'm so prickly about it—well, she knows how to hold her own. Her years of experience, the tests she's passed, and her speed in the physical exam showed me that women can be excellent bodyguards too. Her unique personality is just part of the package. And I won't deny it—it's damn intriguing to find out more about her, even though it's so damn hard.

"Mr. Black," my assistant, Kyle, enters the room quickly, letting the door slam behind him. "Sorry about that," he gestures toward the door. "Mr. Magnus Schulz called," he adds, "we have two weeks to decide on Mrs. Martinez's contract."

I bite my lip quickly and sigh. Being in a position where I might have to let go of such a good client makes me want to rip out my hair and plant it back in just so I can repeat the process until I die.

"Alright, I'll make a decision," I finally say, getting up from my chair, searching for my phone. "Is the execution notice ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what's the update on the contract with the agent from France?"

"I don't have information on that yet, sir. But as soon as I get back to the office, I'll let you know!"

"Mhm," I murmur, trying to shove the papers aside without dropping them while still finding my phone.

"Looking for this?" I snap out of my uncontrollable train of thought when her voice breaks through. I glance over at her, then at the phone in her hand. "Pretty disorganized," she says, tossing the phone into my lap.

I'm not sure if I should thank her or scold her, so I choose silence and walk ahead, with her following me. I turn suddenly toward her, studying her face. Her expression was calm, showing no sign of being upset at how I've treated her since she arrived—it's as if she doesn't even care. I fix my gaze on hers and slip my hands into my pockets.

"Are you trying to intimidate me or just stalling?" she says confidently. "Because I'm really hungry, and you don't care about my stomach. Should I file a complaint?"

"You talk too much," I say sharply, opening the door and letting her go out first. "You know any complaints come straight to me, right?" I smirk, stepping out and walking forward with her behind me.

I allow myself a quick glance over my shoulder, and seeing the slight creases forming around her nose and her barely perceptible look of disapproval gives me a special kind of satisfaction. I don't know why, but I enjoy irritating her. Her. Specifically.

"I don't like you today, Mr. Black," she finally manages to say something. "You're not on my list of favourite people."

My grin only grows wider. "I'm never your favourite," I say, pressing the elevator button and waiting, "and I don't even think you have a list."

"You'd be surprised."

My eyebrows rise of their own accord, forming a very surprised expression on my face. Did she just say that she usually likes me, just not today? My gaze slides over her perfectly upright figure, and I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd think she was at least a secretary.