THE BODYGUARD WHO TAMED THE TRILLIONAIRE CEO
Caden Booker, the arrogant heir to the Booker Legacy group has everything-wealth, power and everything that comes with it. Things take a turn when he survives a car bombing that was meant to kill him, sparking the need for a bodyguard, his bodyguard. Ruthless, secretive, and finally close enough to make Caden pay, Asher takes the job not to protect him, but to end him.
As time unravels everything he thought he knew, Asher must decide between following through with the revenge he has planned all his life or to risk it all for the man he has learned to love.
A tale of betrayal, power and abominable romance, born out of revenge and sealed in love.
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Chapter 1
Caden's Pov
I held up two ties to my neck, unable to make a choice. One of them was a striped tie while the other was a plain black tie. A sigh escaped me when I failed to choose either of them.
"Maybe, I should go without a tie." I mumbled to myself.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, summoned Gatsby all the way from hell.
"You're not leaving here without a tie, mister." She strutted into the room like she'd done a thousand times and reached for me.
"Good morning to you too." I flash her a lazy grin.
She shot me a glare, already choosing the black tie and wrapping it around my collar.
"Just when I thought we'd make it on time." She mumbled as she knotted the tie and pushed it close to my throat.
I nearly gagged. "Hey, easy on me." "Easy on you? News flash, love. I'm not Adele!" She lifted her iPad for me to see. "And second of all, we'll be late to our own event. If you're gonna host something, at least be punctual."
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, mom."
"You wish," She spun around and headed for the door. "Brush your hair, prince charming. Wheels up in 5."
I chuckled as she slammed the door on her way out.
Gabrielle or Gatsby as I call her, is my 15th and only reliable secretary. She's been my sober companion and best friend for the past 5 years. Unlike the rest of my employees who maintain brisk composure and put on fake smiles, Gatsby is carefree and doesn't give an F.
At first when grandpa, God rest his soul, told me he'd personally choose my secretary, I was furious. Was I picky? Yes.
Was I stubborn? You can call me a bloody bull.
But I was a full grown adult and he was choosing my secretary like she was a bag at Chanel.
On the day of the interview, I made it my aim to show her hell but it went the other way around.
She shoved my crossed legs off the polished desk, straightened my tie and passed me 15 reviewed documents waiting for my signature. I was stunned and we did exchange a few words but at the end of the day, I hired her. I liked her grit.
"Caden!" I hear Gatsby's angry howl from downstairs.
"On my way!" I thread my fingers through my hair to give them a tousled look. "There."
It didn't matter what I looked like. People still threw themselves at me. I'm that hot.
I took the grand staircase, my eyes flashing with pride as the maids bowing at the sight of me.
My eyes trail forward and meet Gatsby green ones.
"This way." She said in a firm voice.
"Thank you." I grinned at her fake professional tone and walked out the door.
Once we were out, she led me to the black BMV and entered the driver's seat.
I was too busy fixing my cufflinks when I felt a glare burning through my skull. My eyes shifted to the rearview mirror and I grinned.
"Still upset that we're late?" "No," she started the car, easing it smoothly out of the compound. "Aren't you worried?" "About what exactly?" I asked nonchalantly, scrolling through Instagram on my phone. "The fact that people hate the product? Or the fact that it's controversial and people might want to kill me for it."
"Both," She sighed and made a right turn. "Normal CEO's have bodyguards and military entourage to protect them especially at events like this but you don't."
"Too bad I'm not normal like them, Gatsby. I'm fine without having kids with toy guns hanging around me." I replied curtly. Gatsby didn't speak to me any longer. I took the cue that she'd given up. She is always done whenever we talk about me having a bodyguard or plural. I don't like the idea of being surrounded all the time. It made me look weak and a BOOKER was far from that. I was a Blueblood. I don't need protection.
The BMW pulled up to the building and in that very second, the paparazzi swarmed us, flashing cameras and yelling inaudible questions. "If we had a bodyguard, we wouldn't have to worry about them." Gatsby mumbled as she exited the driver's seat. I swallowed a chuckle as she held open the backseat and I stepped out. "Mr. Valentine, is it true that the government tried to shut down this product launch?" A young brunette asked, practically shoving her mic in my face. "Caden, how do you feel knowing your company's product is getting low ratings?" I ignored their questions and entered the building. My "party" was waiting for me.
The second I stepped into the opulent VIP hall, I expected the guests to greet me with a round of applause like usual but it's a graveyard. "My, you all are very generous." I grin, trying to sound playful but of course, no one gets the joke. I make my way to the stage, my speech ready and the fakest grin on earth plastered on my face. Let's go. After the presentation, a few rounds of applause echoed here and there. Now, it was time for questions.
A few journalists ask me about the new product and I give them the replies I'd rehearsed last night with Gatsby. Once that was over, I decided I needed a drink. I made my way to the bar and ordered a sex on the beach. The bartender slid it towards me but before I could reach for it, a hand beat me to it.
"Mind if I join you?" Nessa slurped the entire drink like the greedy little bitch she was and slammed the glass on the counter. "Wow, Nessa, what brings you here?" I feigned surprise. I was such a bad liar. Of course, I knew she'd be here. She always followed me around in hopes of a good fuck. Girls like Vanessa Thompson, pretty in pink and always squandering daddy's money, want only one thing : a handsome man they can fuck and control anytime they want. Too bad I'm not an ordinary man.
"You didn't tell me about the product launch." She shooed away a woman about to sit next to me and grabbed her stool. She's always grabbing things. "I thought you'd see it on the company's website. You're always checking it, aren't you?" I grinned as I ordered another drink. Apart from being a spoiled heiress, Nessa's company was a tech giant and my biggest competitor. And I knew she always checked our company's website and social media in hopes of finding ideas she could steal. She's been very unlucky by the way. Nessa steals my second drink and drinks it all in one gulp. "Aren't you glad that I'm here? The others are talking. It's not looking good for you, Caden. If only your grandpa were alive..." I cut her off. "Don't you dare mention my grandfather!" I was in the middle of ruining Nessa's night for her when I felt a familiar hand on the small of my back. Gatsby. She leaned closer and whispered behind my ear. "We need to get you out here." Thank fuck. I didn't even care to bid Nessa goodnight. I grabbed my jacket and walked out of the hall.
The launch was over anyway. As we reached the lobby, I turned to Gatsby. "What was that all about?" "I don't know but I got word from the building's security about suspicious activities. We've gotta go right now." She explained in a slightly spooked voice. That's odd. Gatsby is never spooked. "Okay." I pull the front door open and step out.
The car was waiting for us ahead. The moment I reached for it, everything went white. BOOM! My body was flung against the wall. A painful whimper escaped me as I clutched my now dislocated arm and stared through smoke and fire. Flames licked away at the BMW, bending and breaking like shattered glass. An explosion erupted in the ground as the car's remains whisked through the air like wicked rain. My mouth fell open as I stared at the gruesome sight.
What the actual fuck?
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7.8
She woke up in a billionaire's arms in a penthouse with a view of the Seine. She was wearing a ring she didn't remember saying yes i do to
When Lana Cruz wakes up after a terrible accident, the only person there is Adrian Black, the powerful CEO who says she is his wife. His touch is familiar, and his voice is strong but all of my memories of him are gone.
They look like the perfect couple to everyone but this is the revenge Adrian has been waiting years for. Lana broke his heart once, and now he plans to make her fall in love with him again, only to break her heart when she is most vulnerable.
But Paris is a city full of life and danger. Rooftop parties under the sparkling Eiffel Tower, moonlit walks along the Seine, and sparkling galleries set the stage for love, lies, and secrets that could ruin both of them.
As they fall in love, the line between revenge and desire gets blurry. Lana and Adrian must choose between letting the past take over their lives or giving in to a love that is strong enough to heal even the worst wounds.
A storm of passion, betrayal, and redemption in the middle of modern Paris.
8.9
I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.
7.9
For five years, April Gamble loved Julian Travis with everything she had, trusting him completely.
But on a stormy night, he casually tossed a liquidation agreement at her feet, single-handedly destroying her grandfather's company.
He coldly admitted he only dated her to steal Vance Group's internal financial data.
"You were convenient," Julian said, swirling his whiskey without a shred of guilt.
Before April could even process the brutal betrayal, a breaking news alert lit up her phone.
She watched in absolute horror as her grandfather jumped from the ledge of the Vance Tower on live television.
Julian looked at her writhing, screaming form with utter boredom and simply ordered his bodyguard to throw her out.
Blinded by grief and tears, April sped into the torrential rain, only to be completely crushed by a hydroplaning transport truck at an intersection.
As the shattered glass tore into her skin and the metal crushed her ribs, she died with a hatred so pure it made her teeth ache.
Why did five years of devotion mean absolutely nothing to him? Why did her family have to die just to feed his ruthless greed?
When she opened her eyes again, the harsh hospital lights blinded her, but the familiar burn scar on her arm was gone.
She wasn't the betrayed financial analyst April Gamble anymore.
She had woken up in the body of Altagracia Blanchard, the most notorious, obscenely wealthy heiress in New York.
Julian had taken everything from her, but now, armed with a billionaire's empire, she was going to bury him.
7.5
I lay paralyzed in a luxury Swiss clinic, my body a heavy sack of meat I no longer controlled. The heart monitor’s rhythmic beep was the only thing louder than the silence, a mocking countdown to my inevitable end.
My fiancé, Jordan, walked in looking impeccable in the custom suit I had bought him for his birthday. He wasn't alone; my best friend, Chloe, followed him into the room, wearing the vintage Givenchy dress I had saved for our anniversary gala.
Jordan didn't look like a grieving man; he looked bored as he held up a blue folder confirming that my family's offshore trust had finally cleared. Chloe giggled, leaning over me to ask if I finally realized it was the engagement wine she had spiked seven days ago. Jordan brushed a cold hand over my forehead, calling me a "perfect little asset" before pulling Chloe into a hungry kiss right over my dying body. To ensure there was no turning back, he pulled out a silver lighter and set my living will on fire, watching the only document that could have saved me turn to ash.
I tried to scream, to curse them both to hell for stealing my life and my legacy, but all that came out was a wet, rattling wheeze. My own father, I would later learn, had known about the takeover and chose the profit over his own daughter's life.
As the darkness swallowed me whole, I made a silent, desperate promise: if there was anything after this, I would come back and destroy every single one of them.
I gasped, my body jerking upright as air rushed into my lungs like liquid fire.
I wasn't in Switzerland, and there was no poison in my veins. I was back in my Manhattan bedroom, staring at a phone that read June 12—the morning of the wedding, the day I was supposed to die, and the day I decided to burn their world to the ground.
9.4
Dorene survived a terrifying night with a bleeding, dangerous intruder in her hotel penthouse, only to receive a far more devastating blow the next morning.
A black and gold envelope arrived. It was an engagement invitation. Her boyfriend of seven years, Kadyn, was marrying her sweet, innocent best friend, Dolly.
Refusing to hide, Dorene crashed the gala in a blood-red gown. But Dolly was ready. Grabbing Dorene's wrists, Dolly purposely threw herself backward into a tower of champagne glasses, shrieking about her stomach and her unborn baby.
"If anything happens to Dolly or my child, I swear to God, I will destroy you!"
Kadyn roared, holding the weeping Dolly in the broken glass. He didn't ask a single question. He branded Dorene a jealous monster. To completely break her dignity, he publicly handed her over to the city's most notorious, sleazy playboy just to appease Dolly's fake tears.
"Give him a shot," Kadyn told her coldly.
Seven years of love were ground into the marble floor. She was framed, publicly humiliated, and discarded like trash by the two people she trusted most.
Dorene didn't shed a single tear. She gave them a smile of pure, freezing mockery and walked out of the gilded cage into the freezing Manhattan night. She didn't know that as she left, the lethal, blood-stained man from her penthouse was watching from the shadows, ready to help her burn their world to the ground.
8.5
After surviving twenty-one years in a brutal orphanage, I finally returned to my billionaire biological family with the silver pocket watch that proved my identity.
But my relatives didn't care about me; they only loved Corie, the fake daughter who had stolen my life after our mothers switched us during a hospital fire.
On my very first day home, the family faced total ruin over a thirty billion dollar debt.
The creditors demanded a Dunlap daughter marry their comatose, vegetative heir to settle the score.
Without a second thought, my grandmother and uncle pointed their fingers at me.
They claimed Corie was too delicate and precious to spend her life nursing a corpse with a heartbeat.
"You're used to hardship and deprivation," my grandmother sneered, demanding I fulfill my so-called family obligation to save them all.
I looked at these strangers who had ignored my existence for two decades, expecting me to sacrifice my future just so a thief could keep enjoying my stolen wealth.
They thought they were tossing an unwanted orphan into a living hell.
But when I saw the medical file of the comatose heir, a cold thrill ran through my veins.
It was Andres Gillespie.
The man who had taken my innocence during a mountain storm four years ago, and the secret father of my hidden twins.
I calmly set down my coffee cup and smiled at my arrogant family.
"I'll do it. I'll marry him."