In Love with My Defiant Bodyguard
A billionaire's daughter, Stacy Thompson, a 24 yrs old young lady who has grown to be cold and stubborn, distant from her Dad , David Thompson ever since her mother died. Her dad's priority remains protecting what he had left, His daughter no matter what and Hires a top bodyguard, Isaiah Wright, trained since birth. Stacy meets this defiant bodyguard who becomes a key to opening all the feelings, mysteries and answers that had been buried for so long.
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Chapter 1
Stacy Thompson had always gotten her way.
At twenty-four, she'd mastered the art of wrapping people around her finger-a smile here, a well-timed tantrum there, and even the most stubborn person would bend. Her father's employees? They jumped at her every whim. She had no friends and became so cold after her mom died. Even her father, the powerful David Thompson, owner of Thompson Industries and one of the wealthiest men in America, usually gave in sometimes....
Until today.
"Absolutely not," Stacy said, crossing her arms as she stood in her father's study in their mansion. "I'm not having some stranger following me around, i'm 24 dad!"
David Thompson didn't look up from the documents he was signing. His jaw was set in that familiar stubborn line that Stacy had inherited from him. "It's not up for discussion, Stacy."
"Everything is up for discussion dad!"
"Not this." Her father finally met her eyes, and Stacy saw something there she hadn't seen in the six months since her mother's death-fear. Real, bone-deep fear. "The threats are credible. After what happened to your mother, I'm not taking any chances."
The mention of her mother made Stacy's chest tighten, but she pushed the pain down like she always did. "Mom died in a car accident."Stacy says
"That's what the police report says."David replied
Stacy froze. "What does that mean?"
Her father's expression closed off. "It means you're getting a bodyguard, and that's final."
"I don't need protection. I need answers!" Stacy's voice rose. "You won't talk about what happened, you won't let me look into it, you just want to lock me away like some princess in a tower!"
"I want to keep you alive." David stood, his imposing six-foot-three frame towering over her. "And you will cooperate with your new bodyguard, or I will cut off your credit cards, your trust fund access, and every other privilege you take for granted. Do I make myself clear?"
Stacy stared at her father in shock. He'd never spoken to her like this before. Never been this harsh, this unbending.
"Crystal," she said coldly.
"Good. He'll be here in ten minutes."
"He?" Stacy raised an eyebrow. "You hired a male bodyguard to follow your daughter around?"
"I hired the best. Gender is irrelevant."
Before Stacy could respond, there was a knock on the study door. Marcus, their head of security, stepped inside. "Mr. Thompson, Isaiah Wright is here."
"Send him in."
Stacy turned toward the door, preparing her best dismissive expression. She'd have this bodyguard quit within a week. She'd done it before with personal assistants, and drivers. This would be no different.
Then Isaiah Wright walked through the door, and every thought in Stacy's head evaporated.
He was tall-at least six-two-with broad shoulders that filled out his black tactical jacket perfectly. His dark hair was cut short, military-style, and his jawline could cut glass. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. Bright blue, sharp, and utterly unimpressed as they swept over her once before focusing on her father.
"Mr. Thompson," Isaiah said, his voice deep and professional. He didn't even glance at Stacy again.
"Mr. Wright. Thank you for coming on such short notice." Her father shook Isaiah's hand. "This is my daughter, Stacy."
Isaiah's blue eyes finally landed on her again, and Stacy felt a strange flutter in her stomach. He gave her a single nod. "Ma'am."
Ma'am? Stacy bristled. She was twenty-four, not some middle-aged woman.
"I've briefed Mr. Wright on the situation," her father continued. "He'll be with you at all times. He has full authority to override your plans if he deems them unsafe."
"Excuse me?" Stacy whipped her head toward her father. "Full authority?"
"That's correct," Isaiah said, speaking directly to her for the first time. His expression remained neutral, professional. "I understand this is an adjustment, but your safety is non-negotiable."
"I didn't ask you," Stacy snapped.
Something flickered in Isaiah's eyes-amusement, maybe?-but his face remained impassive. "Noted."
"Stacy," her father warned.
She ignored him, stepping closer to Isaiah. Up close, she could see he was even more attractive than she'd first thought, with a small scar cutting through his left eyebrow. He smelled really nice and clean, like fresh laundry. "Let me make something very clear, Mr. Wright. I don't need a bodyguard. I don't want a bodyguard. And I certainly don't need some military reject telling me what to do."
Isaiah's expression didn't change. "Are you finished?"
Stacy blinked. "What?"
"Are you finished with your tantrum?" Isaiah's voice remained calm, almost bored. "Because I have a job to do, and your feelings about it are irrelevant."
No one talked to her like that. No one.
"How dare you-"
"Stacy, enough." Her father's voice cracked like a whip. "Isaiah, her schedule is on the tablet Marcus will provide. She has a charity luncheon tomorrow at noon, shopping scheduled for the afternoon, and dinner with friends at eight."
"I'll review the locations and make adjustments as needed," Isaiah said.
"You will not make adjustments to my plans!" Stacy practically shouted.
Isaiah finally looked at her fully, and his blue eyes were cold as ice. "Ms. Thompson, let me be very clear. I don't care if you like me. I don't care if you're happy. I was hired to keep you alive, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Whether you cooperate or not is up to you, but either way, I'm not going anywhere."
Stacy felt her face flush with anger. "We'll see about that."
"Yes," Isaiah said quietly. "We will."
Her father cleared his throat. "Isaiah, there's a room prepared for you in the east wing. Marcus will show you. You start tomorrow at seven."
"Six," Isaiah corrected, still looking at Stacy. "I need to assess Ms. Thompson's morning routine."
"I don't have a morning routine," Stacy said through gritted teeth.
"You do now." Isaiah turned back to her father. "Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I won't let you down."
After Isaiah left with Marcus, Stacy rounded on her father. "Are you serious right now? That man is insufferable!"
"That man is a former Navy SEAL with twelve years of protection experience," her father said calmly, returning to his desk. "He's guarded diplomats, CEOs, and foreign dignitaries. He's exactly what you need."
"What I need is for you to tell me the truth about Mom!"
Her father's expression hardened. "Your mother is dead. Nothing will change that."
"But if someone killed her-"
"Stacy, please." Her father suddenly looked exhausted, older than his fifty-two years. "I can't lose you too. Just... let Isaiah do his job. Please."
The raw pain in her father's voice made Stacy's anger deflate slightly. She knew he was grieving, that they both were. But where her father found comfort in protection and control, Stacy needed answers.
"Fine," she said quietly. "But I'm not making it easy for him."
Her father's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
#LATER THAT NIGHT
Stacy lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. The house felt too quiet without her mother's laughter, without the sound of her parents talking late into the night in the study below her room.
Her mother, Catherine Thompson, had been the glue that held their family together. She'd been warm where David was cold, gentle where he was harsh, understanding where he was rigid. And six months ago, her car had gone off a bridge during a storm.
The police said it was an accident. Wet roads, poor visibility, a tragic mistake.
But Stacy had seen the way her father's security had tripled overnight. The way he'd stopped sleeping, stopped eating. The way he looked over his shoulder constantly, as if expecting an attack.
He knew something. Something he wasn't telling her.
And now he'd hired Isaiah Wright-a man who looked at her like she was a mission objective rather than a person-to keep her contained.
Well, Stacy thought, if Isaiah wanted to follow her around, he was going to learn just how difficult she could be.
But as she closed her eyes, she couldn't shake the memory of those cold blue eyes, or the way her pulse had quickened when he'd stepped into her personal space without flinching.
This was going to be complicated.
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9.5
My boyfriend, Jefferson, convinced me to give up my Yale scholarship for him. He was my secret, my escape from the shame of my mother's past, and I threw away my future for our love.
Then, at a gala, he publicly announced his engagement to Aubrey Carroll-the girl who made my high school years a living hell.
He trapped me in his mansion, forcing me to become her personal servant. She tortured me daily, culminating in her brutally killing our dog, Charlie, with a garden trowel.
When her friends arrived, they joined in, stripping me half-naked and live-streaming my panic attack for the world to see.
The man who once promised to protect me watched as they destroyed me.
But as I lay bleeding out on the floor, it wasn't an ambulance that arrived. It was the private security of Alexzander Stevens-my estranged, billionaire grandfather.
He revealed I was his sole heiress, and now, we were going to make them pay for every last tear.
7.7
For three years, Avery Woods lived a lie. Trapped in a high-stakes psychological "simulation" designed by her own father, she was forced to endure the life of a discarded trophy wife, scrubbing floors and suffering in silence to temper her mind into a weapon.
When the simulation shattered, Avery emerged as the Sovereign-the most experienced CEO in human history, having lived twenty years of strategic warfare in a matter of months. She tore down her father's global conglomerate, erased the world's digital memories, and sought a quiet life in the shadows.
But you cannot delete a god.
Now, a year after the "Great Erasure," the world has gone dark, but the connection remains. Four hundred million people are syncing up through a biological "Chorus," using their own neural pathways to rebuild a decentralized, inescapable Hive Mind. At its center is Mila, a child who is more code than flesh, and the only anchor strong enough to stabilize a new reality.
From the high-tech bunkers of Moscow to the hallucination-filled "Dead Zone" of the Sahara, Avery and her protector-assassin, Julian Vane, must race to stop the Chorus before it rewrites the physical world.
The satellites are dead. The servers are gone. But the Silence is screaming.
8.5
For two years, I was the perfect shadow of another woman. I wore the silk robes Brittain Austin bought, styled my hair exactly how he liked, and spoke in a voice pitched half an octave higher than my own. I was a placeholder, a living statue in a minimalist Manhattan penthouse, waiting for a man who looked at me but never actually saw me.
Everything shattered when a news alert flashed on my phone: "Caryn Newman Spotted at JFK." The original was back. The woman I was hired to mimic had returned to claim her throne, and my secret two-year contract as her stand-in was set to expire in three days.
Brittain didn't even give me the courtesy of a phone call. While he was supposed to be on a business trip, photos surfaced of him shielding Caryn from the paparazzi, his hand on her waist with a tenderness he never showed me. When I walked into his office to return his keys, he didn't look guilty; he just looked annoyed. He pulled out a checkbook and asked, "How much for the hurt feelings?" When I refused his money, he coldly ordered his assistant to freeze every one of my accounts before I even reached the elevator.
I stood on the sidewalk with zero dollars, realizing that to him, I wasn't a partner—I was just an expired lease. I had spent two years erasing my soul to fit into his world, only to be tossed out like trash the moment the real thing came home.
But Brittain forgot one thing: before I was his doll, I was an actress. I pulled my secret weapon from under the bed—a notebook and a raw film cut he never knew existed. I called my agent and launched a high-profile "showmance" with my co-star that set the internet on fire.
As I blocked Brittain's number and moved into a dusty apartment in Queens, I realized the show wasn't over. For the first time, I was the leading lady.
8.5
Elara spent three years invisible in her marriage to billionaire Damien Cross. When he hands her divorce papers, she disappears without a fight.
Six months later, an accident steals Damien's memory of the past five years. He doesn't remember his ex-wife, but he can't stop searching for the woman with sad eyes who haunts his dreams.
When he finds Elara thriving in Seattle, she refuses to let him back in. But this Damien is nothing like the cold husband she remembers, and as he uncovers their past, devastating secrets emerge.
Can you forgive someone who doesn't remember breaking you?
7.1
For ten years, my family kept me locked away, forcing me to play the part of a broken, mentally unstable girl. They controlled me with sedatives and treated me like a ghost in my own home, a prisoner in a gilded cage.
But I had a secret. I was a world-famous anonymous artist with a hidden fortune, and I had an escape plan. On the day of my cousin's wedding, my rebellion was accidentally witnessed by a dangerous stranger who saw the predator beneath my fragile mask.
To silence him, I dragged him into a dark closet. The encounter turned raw and reckless, a violent collision I used as the perfect cover for my escape. I vanished with a new name and a one-way ticket to a new life, leaving him with nothing but a bloodstain and the bitter taste of betrayal.
I thought I was free, that I had successfully buried the girl I was forced to be and the man I was forced to use.
Three months later, on a superyacht in Monaco, he found me. He wasn't just some wealthy guest; he was the ruthless head of a powerful crime syndicate, and I was trapped in his private penthouse. He locked the door, his eyes black with possessive rage.
"The game is over," he whispered. "This time, you're not running."
7.3
Elara Valente has lived her life under her father's control, a mafia princess trapped in luxury. But when she meets Luca, a humble baker who sees her for who she truly is, her world begins to change.
Secret meetings, stolen moments, and forbidden attraction ignite a slow-burning romance-but danger lurks at every turn. With a strict father, an arranged marriage, and watchful cousins, Elara must choose: follow her heart, or obey the world she was born into.